The Mall (23 page)

‘No,’ Colt answers certainly.

‘To your knowledge or in your experience is this brown infected with any pathogens that may affect our own?’

‘No.’

‘To your knowledge or in your experience has this brown ever purloined?’

‘No.’

‘Well, then. That’s in order,’ Jossiefeen says, cheerfully ticking off her list. ‘Representative Badly?’

‘Uh,’ the Representative grunts, clears an oceanful of phlegm from his throat and spits a huge yellow wad into the vase on the table in front of him. ‘This associate of yours.
The dark brown. If it doesn’t start consuming to its quota soon, it will become unassigned. We can’t have disregard.’

‘Um. I hardly know…’ I don’t know what to say. Colt rubs my leg in support. It gives me strength. ‘We went through a lot together, she and I. Rhoda – uh, the
dark brown – helped me make it across here. I wouldn’t be applying for this wonderful opportunity if she hadn’t helped me. She won’t be any problem to you.’

‘Uh. You’re in no position to vouch for—’

‘Representative Badly, I am inclined to believe this young brown. And given our current personnel constr— Given that. I don’t think we should judge this young worker on his
associates. We know how browns are. This is why we enhanced the penetration system. Disregard is not an issue to the business units any more.’

‘Gflk.’ The octopus man shrugs his blubbery chest and neck in lieu of shoulders. ‘You, Agent…’ he looks down at the application form ‘…Jossiefeen,
are the Personnel Agent on the application, and I am the Management Representative. I will leave you to do your job.’ He fixes those massive, rheumy eyes on mine. ‘But I warn you,
Darneel, I
will
do my job. I will be surveilling you. Any disregard or any hint of purloining and…’ He leaves the threat hanging.

Welcome Agent Jossiefeen smiles at me and shifts her eyes as if to say,
Don’t worry about him, he’s just a grumpy old octopus and his job is to pretend to be threatening,
he’s a pussycat, really.
Her subtle, normal eyes are essential to this task. ‘Well, I’m prepared to accept your application and would be delighted if you could start today, on
the Dead Shift. That will give you some time to get some proper apparel and to get a phone and open an account and learn about your tokens. You’ll be pleased to know that we’ve raised
the Welcome contribution, so you’ll have ample tokens for anything you might need to get started. CCO Colt, could you please help orient CCO Darneel before his shift starts.’

‘Yes, Agent.’ Colt smiles at me. She’s got a really pretty smile.

‘Could you wait here for a few moments?’ Agent Jossiefeen holds the door open while Representative Badly hefts himself up and grunts his way through it.

‘Felicitations,’ says Colt when both agents have left the room. ‘You made it. We’ll be able to devour together every day!’

‘Is that it? They didn’t even ask about my experience, what I knew about bookselling.’

‘It doesn’t really matter, does it?’

‘I don’t know anything about my pay, my shifts, nothing.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I’m your sponsor.’

‘But… why are you helping me? How could you answer those questions? You know nothing about me.’

‘I like you,’ Colt says. ‘You make me feel… normal.’

Agent Jossiefeen comes in again with a long black case. ‘Last thing, of course, is equipping you with the Service Enhancer and performing the induction penetration.’ She unpacks a
chain and an anklet onto the table, a package of sterile wipes and what looks like a half-sized pneumatic drill.

Holy fuck. What the hell have I gotten myself into? No. No! I thought it was just Colt. Just the phone shop. I didn’t think. Oh my God.

Fuck
.

How stupid.
How fucking stupid
. The android guy at the bookshop. I didn’t think. Oh fuck. I need to vomit. This is not.

Wrong choice. I need a reload.

‘Wait,’ I say. ‘Is there any chance to…’ What am I going to say? Change my mind? Start again? I’m here in the Management’s nerve centre.
They’ll never let me get out.

Jossiefeen isn’t listening; she’s rifling through the black case.

‘Oh bother. They keep on taking the adaptor away. I’ll just be another moment.’

Colt stands up to stretch her legs. She paces to the wall and idly reads some laminated posters on the wall.

‘I didn’t know this… this… thing…’ I indicate the drill on the desk ‘…that everyone got it. I thought it was—’

‘Don’t worry,’ she says without turning around, ‘it’ll be fine. It’s sterile, see? There’s nothing to worry about.’

Last chance. I flip out my phone and type

I pray to everything I know. Colt’s tranquillity is making me even more anxious. She’s acting like a robot. She’s not going to help me.

Thank God, my phone vibrates. Rhoda will get me out of this.

‘Here we go.’ Agent Jossiefeen bustles in and plugs in the drill. ‘Colt, will you assist, please?’

Colt moves behind me and hugs me around my chest with a surprisingly strong grip. Her touch must stun me a little, because next thing the spike on the drill is whizzing in front of my face with
a well-oiled buzz and Jossiefeen is crouching down beside me.

I feel Colt’s lips on my ear, her hair tickling my neck. ‘Don’t worry, Daniel, you get used to it.’

Jossiefeen finds her spot, just under my skull bone below the ear, and the drill goes in, smooth and hard like a screwdriver into a rubber doll.

chapter 21

RHODA

Holy shit. The apartment is twice the size of my parents’ house, and no expense was spared with the decor. The floors are marble, the ceilings are high and intricately
moulded, and the kitchen’s a gleaming expanse of brushed stainless steel. The walls are all painted in shades of tasteful off-white, and I’ve counted three spare bedrooms, all with
state-of-the-art en suite bathrooms (two even have bidets). And there really is a Jacuzzi in the master bedroom, roomy enough to house half of Manchester United.

I wander back through to the open-plan lounge. There’s a huge widescreen television on the wall above the mantelpiece, and a conversation pit dominated by a porcelain wood-burning heater.
It’s the kind of place you see featured in the pages of
Hello!
magazine. It only needs designer furnishings and Nigella Lawson or Victoria Beckham propping themselves up against the
polished kitchen counter to complete the picture.

‘You like?’ The estate agent hovers next to the breakfast bar. I let her sweat for a bit, enjoying the feeling of power. She’s been checking her watch almost continually since
we arrived, but I don’t want to let her know what I really think about the place – best to pretend to be nonchalant, like someone who’s used to swanning around in this type of
luxury.

‘It’s okay,’ I say, shrugging.

But there’s something strange about the apartment… something I can’t quite put my finger on. Then I have it: there are no windows. It’s so elegantly lit that I
haven’t noticed the lack of a view.

I rack my brain to think of the sort of questions you’re supposed to ask estate agents without looking too desperate.

‘Um. Why is it on the market?’

‘The last inhabitant depreciated, of course.’

‘Depreciated?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The estate agent clears her throat. ‘Have you made a decision? I can really see you in here, ma’am, I really can, oh yes I really think this is the
right place for you the place you want to be.’ Her estate agent’s patter is losing its lustre, and she’s now clearly on edge. The attachment on her real leg starts beeping and she
eyes it nervously.

‘What’s that?’ I say, pointing to the red flashing light just above her ankle.

‘That’s the Management letting me know I have to get back to my post soon.’

‘How long have you got?’

‘We have fifteen minutes to close with a client.’

‘And if you don’t?’

She smiles at me brightly again. Sweat beads her forehead.

Shit. I’m being cruel. Time to put her out of her misery. ‘In that case. I’ll take it.’

She sighs with relief. ‘Thank you.’

And anyway, it’s just for now. Just until I find Dan and we sort ourselves out. We might need a base, after all.

‘What about furniture?’ I ask.

‘Oh, ma’am,’ she says, handing over a triangular-shaped keycard. ‘That’s up to you. I just know you’ll have a wonderful time filling it with lovely things.
Thank you so much for letting me be your houser.’

She nods, and backs out swiftly, plastic leg clacking over the tiles.

I wander back into the bedroom and check out New Rhoda in the bevelled mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. I really do look taller, and I’m sure it’s not just the new boots. The dress
hangs slightly loosely from my shoulders, but there’s nothing I can do about that.

Should I treat myself to a quick Jacuzzi before I leave? It would almost be a crime not to.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s probably just the estate agent again.

But when I open the door I come face to face with a half-naked giant of a man.

‘Howzit, neighbour!’ he says.

‘Um… Hi.’

Christ. He must be at least two metres tall, and his shirtless frame almost fills the doorway. His oiled skin strains over pecs and abs that are too defined and sculpted to be real – they
have the look of CGI about them – and I can make out the crisscrossed scars where the implants were inserted. And he’s done something bizarre to his chin, it’s way too large to be
natural and there’s a cleft in the end of it large enough to fit several fingers. Ugh. His skin has the same ghostly pallor I’ve seen on everyone in the mall. Even dark-skinned people
look faded somehow. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t see sunlight for fuck knows how long.

‘Just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood,’ he says.

I struggle to smile back. That chin is really freaking me out. ‘Thanks.’

He peers past me and into the kitchen. ‘I’m so glad it’s no longer vacant.’

‘Right. And how long
has
it been vacant?’

He scratches his chin. ‘Hours,’ he says.

‘
Hours?
Seriously?’

He nods. ‘I know. Ages. But I wanted to tell you the primo news. Needless Things is having a sale!’

I can’t help the thrill of excitement, which is stupid, really. I mean, what’s the point of a sale when everything’s free?

‘Thanks,’ I say.

My phone beeps.

Aren’t you going to get that?

Oh good. The voice, which has been absent for a while, has decided to show itself again.

‘Go away,’ I hiss.

The guy looks at me in confusion.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Just talking to myself.’

‘Oh. Try the brain-drainer on Ward level G. Worked wonders for me.’

‘Thanks.’ Maybe that explains the fucked-up work he’s had done. I raise my eyebrows in an ‘is that it?’ fashion, and fortunately he gets the hint.

‘Oh,’ he says, turning around as I’m about to shut the door on him. ‘Sleep when you’re dead.’

‘What?’

‘Level D. Great pillows.’

‘Awesome. Thanks.’ I slam the door before he has a chance to speak again.

I thumb through to the message. Thinking about it, how could the battery have remained charged for so long? Another mystery. Like the fact that I’ve just been given a free luxury
apartment.

Like I said, there’s no such thing as a free lunch
.

‘Whatever.’

I check out the message.

Dan never had a problem with your hair
.

‘Shut up.’ I’m speaking out loud again. Must stop that. And the voice is right. I’m not going to find Dan by hanging around here.

Looking both ways to make sure Cleft Chin isn’t anywhere to be seen, I make my way down the corridor towards the mall. The doors to the other apartments stretch into the distance like
those in a generic hotel. I pause to listen at a couple of them, but can’t hear anything. Their occupants are probably all at the mall. Shopping till they drop.

I think you mean shopping till they die
.

As I reach the end of the corridor, an emaciated guy wearing one of those admiral costumes pops up from behind a concierge desk and rushes to open the glass doors that lead into the mall.
‘May I wish you a primo shopping experience, ma’am,’ he says.

‘Cheers,’ I say.

‘And may I mention that there’s a sale on at Corpsicle.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Better hurry,’ he says. ‘You don’t want to miss out.’

I hesitate. ‘You worked here long?’ I say.

‘Indeed,’ he says proudly. ‘Since school.’

‘Did you know the person who lived in…’ Christ, I’ve forgotten the number of my apartment.

401
.

‘Right! 401. The shopper who lived there before me – did you know him or her?’

‘Shopper De Nooy? Of course I knew him. I know all the Shoppers, ma’am.’

‘What happened to him? Was he sick or old or something? Did he move?’

He chuckles. ‘Move? Your language is interesting if I may say so, ma’am.’ He glances at his watch. ‘If I’m not mistaken he was recycled at oh nine seventy. Is there
a problem with your new apartment? I can inform Management if so.’

‘No problem. None at all.’

I nod at him and hustle away. I don’t actually want to know any more.

Coward
.

It takes me a while to get my bearings. I hadn’t really been looking where I was going as I followed the estate agent to the apartment block. I decide to head towards the escalators, try
to figure out where to go from there. A couple of approaching middle-aged women dressed in teenagers’ clothes step to the side as I pass. One of them has wrapped cling film around her neck in
a poor attempt to smooth her wrinkles, and her friend has done something to her nose – the nostrils look as if they’re sealed up. They smile at me admiringly as I pass.

‘Hi,’ Cling Film says to me, and her friend gasps and nudges her.

‘I can’t believe you just spoke to a Shopper!’ the whisper follows me down the aisle. ‘Isn’t she beautiful!’