A few short stories about Mr.Misaki's Magical Maladies
Lain rifled through his satchel one last time. Goggles; check. Spare empty bottles; check. Invoice and receipts;
check. Three cure-alls and a spirit stone for the fire, should rack about $500. You probably think thats cheap
seeing as you can't get this stuff in stores, but the mark up he put on is standard western economy including
delivery. There are of course, more .. exclusive items.
There was a special bottle inside his coat on a custom built holster that bolstered a two chambered plastic and
rubber bottle, with three refills. He also had spare ingredients to make more in the satchel, there is no stressing
how important this stuff can be. Float, his first concerto, was a blend of malleable neutrinos with honed nutrients
(hyper active sucrose) then a healthy underkick of adrenalin to get it into his bloodstream. The tiny sonic emitors
already drifting around inside then react to the stimulant automatically causing such a drastic, but minuscule, force on
the body's cells ones weight appears diminished to the point you weigh as much as helium on a subatomic level. The
other was Caelum de Sanctum, his overture, not yet perfect but still effective to half a meter distance was a much
subtler blend of photosynthetic pigmented layers that flush to the skin (by a crafty body temp control suit) to
create at first layers of colour to blend into the background. Then the tricky part, using the reaction to the sun by the
photosynthoids it was possible to attach mirrors that inversely reflect the sun in huge proportions. Sort of like
shining a huge watch at someone whilst you stand in a blue suit in front of a blue screen. The only other space was
for his wallet and some business cards, more about that later. He squirted roughly 0.5mg of both Sanctum and Float
into his mouth and took a hit of water from a flask.
The parachute he used looked like a weird silver scard attached to two harnesses, so it could be worn under his
jacket which has zips up the shoulders and down the back that can rip back when released. As not to waste time he
turned up the heat in the climate suit and launched the glide wing, pulling back on the handles he shot upwards and
the supports dug into the chute making it taught as he ascended. Evened out. Then slowly started scything downwards,
the kidney shaped material was able to achieve a similar affect to the Sanctum to camouflage him but nowhere near as effective, most
people just figured he was a rich nut or something, out skydiving for teambuilding maybe.
See the thing here is, I should point out, parking in the city is expensive and Lain isn't a bad or unreasonable
guy. At all. But his scooter was hidden on a corner of central park to avoid fines and it wouldn't be going anywhere with the clamp on
and no fuel anyway. He landed. Fuel and water went together, for some reason, in a slung over converted water pouch. With two
compartments, much like his potion bottle. The hover scooter glugged two litres of BioGen (the term he had affectionately given the
fuel) and hummed into life, hovering a foot or two from the ground so he could step on. The theory here is that if you weigh very little
and use a very good fuel, a relatively simple machine will get you places very quickly, less friction. This time, 5mg of Float. The
scooter had its own emitter that basically made it look like it was on the ground going really fast sp no Sanctum. Ok it's a
projection of some wheels basically, underneath it, nothing too fancy, just enough to not get arrested.
Drop today was for Sandra Rotetsku, a second genner from China town, apparently. I got the impression it was a stage
name as her daughter had been dubbed Madeira Wisteria and was an aspiring singer/songwriter (waitress) at a singing
karaoke diner downtown. Sadly she would be at work. Ah, but such is life.
He hummed down North Boulvd. casually avoiding traffic and dotting up onto the pavement occasionally, it wasn't far
to High Rise Heights, a nice plaza on 82nd that sounded better than it was. Putz probably put a disclaimer on the
name from India before he even came to the city himself. Nonetheless, left down Washington and three blocks down
flying past black iron railings and rusty fire escapes, every part the picture we make it but it does give leave to
think about what makes places so iconic and so easy going. Life is hard here; in reality. Most people don't make it
and those of them that do give hope to others by making light of the rest of rhe bad stuff.
Maybe it'd be better for more people to get their hands dirtier on the street instead of the stock market.
-
He could see Sandra a mile away, out on the carpet under the promenade with a cup of tea, happily gawping at the kid valet on duty. Naturally most people would think Lain was out to do something illegal the way he dressed and acted but truth is he got to be so well known by people around that nobody ever really asked the questions he didn't want to answer. Baller handshakes a go.
"Love your ride man .. always .. you repainted again?", Valets name was Oscar as per gold nametag with maroon trim, a half nod suffices.
"So I have your things, three cure alls in disposable and a new spirit stone, I didn't scent it ..", handing her the bag, she checks the glow on the stone to see it hadn't been charred or cracked already, it was being sold as brand new. You make it in the god damned fire any- anyway and she took a dabble of thin pink liquid, He couldn't not smile as colour flooded her face, her eyes turned to Oscar.
"Five hundred, do you want anything on order now for next month?"
She righted herself and fixed on Lain, "Actually yes", she said handing him the money, "I wanted to ask if you had an elixir for my cat, she's terribly old and getting rather frail but I can't stand the idea of a new animus at home .. is there any way?".
Yawn. Hard work and uncertainty, I'd need a diagnostic on the cat, time, to actually care.
"Yes, I can do one with no guarantees for $150 as long as it's with the usual repeat."
"No guarantees. Fine, thankyou Laney, I'll see you"
"On the 11th, at 10am. Easy".
A hug, we're not cold people round here. He has to wipe a little of Oscars imaginary drool of the scooter as he pulls Iscars drooping jaw off it, in seconds he's waving back trying not to overcook the bike as weight seeps back in. The climate suit works using magnets so it was easy to put reverse polarity receivers, or grabbers, on the seat of the bike for when the body is destabilised. Anyway, slow was good as the three blocks back up to North drifted by, theres a dope pretzel stand on the corner for breakfast too. Everything is fresh OJ and salt beef for ten minutes, listening to Joy Jones with my hat pulled down too, good days are good. Good mornings are better. Kipped up and ready to get home, no point in wasting good juice, the journey meanders itself back to Reisman Square.
Scoot happily put to bed for a nap, Lain looked towards the building he lived and worked from, The Alpman Building, 46 stories of offices, filled with litigators, stock brokers and internet marketing advisors. The trick here was simple, take a little Sanctum, wait for the sun to pop its early morning eyes out over the skyline and go on through, quickly and straight past security to the lifts, which go to the top floor. Only a few people up and down for coffee as market opens up for its jog. Then to the door up, which ironically is still totally theirs, all that needed to be done was to copy one key. Not that hard if you can be virtually invisible. There was more security, of Delaney's own design which obviously wouldn't trigger so with relative ease he pushed the steel door to the roof, gasping in air and sunlight as Sanctums evil double edge grabbed his heart and lungs for a second, a quick slug of water managed to pass the clotting though.
All thoughts of cures and desperate ploys were sent asunder by Shyro landing right in front of him kicking up a big old puff of fresh grass seeds and dry soil, lovely. Home was home and there wasn't much to do before the next delivery.
