Author: Alastair Millar

“I hold souls in limbo, or consign them to oblivion.”

“Come again?” She’d asked what he did, and now just looked confused. He grinned; he didn’t often get hit on in bars, but she was pretty enough in an obvious kind of way, so what did he have to lose?

“I work for MemoriaCorp – you know, the people who make copies of your loved ones so you can keep talking to them after they’re dead? I’m the chief avatar wrangler.”

She looked at him for a moment, wide-eyed, and then: “Oh Em Gee, a fellow geek! I thought the only people in this place were lawyers and brokers!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he waggled his eyebrows to show he was joking, “but I come here because they mix a better martini cocktail. Want one?”

“With that recommendation, sure!” she squeaked, sliding onto the barstool next to his as he signalled the barbot. Her name was Annie, he learned, she’d moved to Chicago to get away from her overbearing parents, and she worked as a remedial programmer for CPD’s rollerdroids. She was bubbly and smart, and clearly in need of a little company, which suited him fine. A couple of hours and a few drinks later they went back to his place together.

The door had hardly dilated shut when she grabbed his elbow. “Alone at last,” she purred into his ear, as he turned and took her in his arms.

“D’you want a fix first? I’ve got some good stuff.”

“No, just you,” she murmured, and leaned in for a kiss. He was vaguely aware of her fingers on the back of his neck, and then everything went dark.

* * *

When he awoke, the only thing he could move was his eyes, and they darted wildly around their sockets. He was on the couch, and she was sitting in the chair opposite, smoking one of his expensive herbsticks.

“Ah, you’re back,” she said, unsmilingly. He tried to speak, to curse at her, but his vocal cords wouldn’t cooperate. “A paralytic,” she added. “Under my nails. Illegal, but a lot of us working girls use it.”

A pause. And then: “My real parents died in an aircar crash years ago. When my grandmother passed, her avatar was the only family I had left. I missed one lousy payment because my banking agent glitched and was taken offline for maintenance, and MemoriaCorp–you—instantly cancelled her policy. Deleted her. Took her away from me all over again.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it when you told me who you were; I was just looking to turn a trick. And then I wanted revenge. So here we are.”

His eyes weren’t moving any more, but she could see the fear in them.

“Sitting in your office pressing buttons, you’ve got no clue how much harm you cause. How much pain. How much rage. I. Wanted. To. Kill. You. But sitting here I realised that that would make me a murderer, just like you. So I’m leaving now; the drug will wear off in a few hours. You’ll probably soil yourself, and I’m not sorry. But all those people left behind, milked for their savings, grieving…? Remember them. If I can find you, so can they. Think about that before being so quick to flip the switch next time. Or someone’s likely to flip yours.”

Tears were working their way out of his eyes. Shame? Anger? She couldn’t tell. And as she left, she knew it wasn’t important, because all that mattered was that she was better than him.