Here’s another chapter from the new novel. That’s it for the blog- if you want to read more, you’re going to have to send me an email and/or comment here to be a part of my focus group.
Chicago, United States of America
“The current hot story is, of course, the recent death of Saidar Duvalier, a key member of the Prime Reserve Board.”
The news announcement came from a large monitor in the center of one of the walls of a spartan, clean, almost sterilized automart. Moderately unsuccessful businessmen on their lunch breaks were glued to the screen. Everyone already knew that Duvalier was dead, and the corporate shrill was just hashing out old news. They were watching the stock tickers at the bottom of the screen, watching for new trends in the uncertain times following the death of such an epic figure, and only half-listening to the broadcast, and only half-tasting their plastic-wrapped lunches.
“Red Dragon! I need Red Dragon!” a man screamed into his computer’s microphone, overwhelmed in his urgency to reach his broker. A ripple of Red Dragon purchases went through the room, like the effect of a rock tossed into a lake.
“Saidar Duvailer worked as an economic advisor for the ICON Corporate-State. While ICON has yet to issue an official statement, ICON’s CEO, Victoria ICON, did say that they were still investigating his death.”
A woman passing by on the sidewalk outside stopped and looked in the glass window of the automart. She was Caucasian, had short hair dyed pink and gelled up in spikes. She wore a tattered plaid skirt, fishnet stockings, black ass-stomping boots, and a roughed up army jacket*, decked out with strange pins and patches. Her name was Pandora, and she wasn’t looking at the frantic business men, or the talking head on the news screen. She was looking at a slice of pie.
“Theories surrounding Duvalier run rampant, and many suspect foul play at this time, although both ICON and the International Prime Reserve have neither confirmed nor denied this.”
Pandora licked her lips (bright pink, like her hair), and entered the Hungry-Happy Automart. The walls of the automart were lined with small, see-through hatches, with various items on display for sale. She walked over to a hatch containing a piece of mint chocolate pie, wrapped up in see-through plastic, just like everything else that was for sale here. Pandora turned heads as she walked. Not only was she attractive, but she was very, very out of place.
“One leading theory suggests that Saidar Duvalier was the victim of corporate-warfare, or so-called black operations.”
Pandora touched her thumb to a sensor on the hatch, and it opened, unlocking her pie. She grabbed the pie, a plastic fork, and sat down at a plastic table. The hatch closed, and a tube, connecting to somewhere, deposited a new slice of pie.
“Hey babe, wanna see my stock portfolio?” The speaker was a young businessman with slick black hair, and a nice watch. It looked new. Pandora rolled her eyes, gave the man a stupid look, and unwrapped her pie.
Not deterred, the man sat down next to her. “You know, I’m a very successful man.”
Not even looking up at him, Pandora replied (with her mouth somewhat filled with pie) “then why the fuck are you eating at an Automart?”
This remark struck the man so forcefully that he stood stunned, and then excused himself and left. Pandora finished her pie in peace.
*It was, ironically enough, a ICON Corporate-State Special Forces Officer’s Jacket, although one would be hard pressed to tell that just by looking at it.