Gummy Bears

Wok and Roll was a really cool spot.

It looked like a cross between fine dining and a diner. However the hell they pulled that off. Thread was the 1980s of the real shot through with borrowed bits of the early 2000s. A strange, almost surreal prison for us all to live in. A place that adopted what it wanted to.

Like a zoo.

Sometimes I felt like the illusion had a grand designer. Someone who was in love with a specific time period. Then again, I remember watching old videos that said the world felt like it was stuck in the 90s for one-hundred years before it all went to shit.

Before the illusion swallowed all industry and then in turn, apparently, all of mankind. Most of human consciousness was here. Couple people refused but…

They just kinda struck me as crazy.

Sorta conspiracy nutballs who call cellular service a curse.

We know who they are.

Don’t we?

Wok and Roll’s parking lot was small.

Just off of Tortuga Boulevard. It had a four lane highway that had north and south bound traffic, lots of restaurants and a clear view of the crystal lake wall up ahead. This part of the city dipped down so it looked like the lake could come spilling inland and wash over all of us. Because of it’s bowl shape, Thread didn’t really have a horizon. It was just an endless curve that went upward for miles in the distance.

In every direction.

Honestly, it was beautiful.

I stood there in the parking lot, marveling at it while the mounted speakers from Wok and Roll played Earth, early 1900s era music.

In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins filling my ears while I stared at it, my eyes tick tocking about, absorbing every detail with my mouth open.

Spacing out was so easy…

Wish I had pot.

Okay, so maybe I do do drugs.

What do you want? I lie all the time.

The Silence have a rule: Never fight alone. They’ve definitely considered breaking it a time or two because of me. Most of my battalion hated the shit out of my ass. Mostly for lying.

I stared at it the distance for so long Dvar pulled one of my braids.

“Hey!” I felt my head tug and my amber eyes flicked about, finding him with my frown.

He had already sauntered over to the door.

A simple glass door in the middle of broad, wide windows. Looking inside I could see classy, diner era booths, and deep in the back was a stage. It had a drum set on it, room for a full live band, and a microphone for a singer. Though this early in the day no one was performing.

I kinda was upset about that. Even checked my watch. I loved big band… always thought drummers were cool. It was like watching a madman make a painting. A drummer just bashing his kit into the ground. Losing his mind to the rhythm. I had a lot of respect for that.

Controlled chaos. Off-beat… sorta like my life.

I couldn’t be the only wild child with a rough past who had that notion, right?

Anybody?

Beuller?

I glanced over at the digital clock on the wall.

I had to.

Thread looked the same all the time and honestly I didn’t even believe my watch anymore.

Hurrying to catch up, I jogged a few steps and came to a stop, Dvar opening the door wide for the both of us.

He let me through first and I felt his big, possessive hand crack against the curve of my ass.

“Aah!” I literally screamed.

Fuck that stung.

My eyebrows knitted together hard, right palm grabbing a handful of my ass-cake, glaring back at him.

“Come on, man… I thought you said not in public.”

“No. I said that to you. You not in public.”

“That’s not fair.” I balked.

“Two problems with your argument.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna enlighten me.” I hissed back, standing in the doorway to the diner as he slid past me.

“Yeah… You have no rights.” He explained with a slow blink in my direction.

“Yeah. I get that. A) Fuck you. B) That was just one thing.” I shrugged.

He stopped walking towards the front counter to look back with a smirk.

His left hand gestured at me like he was squeezing a round, firm invisible sphere in his palm. Letting his cheeks puff a little as he blew a thirsty little exhale.

I glowered.

“Yeah, yeah…” One of the many curses I was blessed with.

My entire frame rode the fence. I was either a very unfortunately built girl…

Or the other thing.

What he liked.

What Fox liked.

What a lot of people liked after the fall of man. In this hedonistic world, both here and the real, it seemed like everybody was trying to negotiate some face time with me when given the opportunity. Someone might see that as a benefit. I didn’t.

But hey. Maybe The Silence was onto something.

Pimpin’ Pretty Boys ain’t easy.

They perfected building frames like mine. Frames built to entice the middle of the road. We could flirt one way or the other. I was built more like a Courtesan Hunter than not, primarily because of my borrowed female DNA. Either way I was definitely built…

Specifically.

I tend to wear my clothes a little baggy for that specific reason.

I was built almost the opposite of Dvar.

Pretty sure my attitude and disagreeable was just about the only thing that held my man card up.

Sure I wasn’t completely bitched out. But I was definitely close enough for a handsy dude not to care.

I marched in behind him, anger in my steps, feeling the residual tingling sting of a handprint hovering on the surface of my ass cheek.

A constant reminder that Dvar liked me-liked me.

I threw him a nervous sidelong look.

The crackle-sting sensation was starting to itch. I had to stand there and ignore it if I didn’t want to look like a drunk hobo, scratching my ass in public.

Not in public.

I practically mocked the words in my head.

I looked at Dvar again, this time glaring.

Fucking horny gorilla.

“You’re an asshole.” I finally said.

But then I realized he’d kept walking moments ago. I was standing there thought looping with my eyebrows tight, staring at nothing that entire time. Fuming about an ass cheek he’d long forgotten he smacked.

“Over here.” Dvar said casually.

“Oh.” I said, trying not to feel stupid.

“Yeah.” He gestured at the table as he slipped into the booth.

I followed, looking around the restaurant.

Checkered floor, red stool seats at the bar, plush red booths, the stage further in.

I liked this place. It didn’t look like an Asian spot at all. It looked really casual but I could tell they spent a lot of money designing this place. Most of this shit didn’t even exist anymore.

Except for the chopsticks.

And the Buddha.

Why was there always chopsticks and a Buddha?

My amber eyes flicked over to the mantle.

“Oh, hey. Krishna. Hare Krishna.”

Dvar looked over at the blue skinned Krishna statue on the mantle by the stage.

“Hare Krishna,” he repeated.

“You’re a Vishnavite?”

“Are you?”

“I like Krishna… bit more partial to Ganesha though. Elephants are cool.” I said with a big dopey grin.

Dvar stared. For a long beat.

“You’re an airhead.”

“Hey.” I bitched, frowning as our waiter came over and brought two menus.

I took mine and Dvar took his, setting his car keys over to by the condiments with his wallet and phone.

I stared at it for a moment.

His keys not the menu.

They had an odd talisman dangling from them. Of an albino viper or cobra or something.

I wasn’t sure, I barely paid attention to anything that didn’t interest me. Though, come to think about it, I could totally watch a couple hours of documentaries on snakes.

I added that to my mental checklist of things to do while avoiding Dvar’s palms on my booty.

“No. I’m not a Vishnavite,” Dvar finally said, flipping through the menu slowly.

“Oh… I just asked cus… y’know. Lot of the illusion are Hindu. Or Taoists.”

“No, I follow its sister way. The One Logic. As all Dharma Yogs do. As you know, the way of the Dharma Yog isn’t too dissimilar to the way of the Karma Yog. Many of its tenants are borrowed from it.”

“Guess it doesn’t really matter either way. Krishna says all worship to God honors him. Pick one. Out in the real they’re abrahamic God people. I think Jesus is kinda cool.” I said, looking around the Indo-Japanese diner.

“You’ve read the Bhagavad Gita?” Dvar asked.

And for the first time since we met he sounded impressed with me.

My amber eyes moved to him. I felt a little flattered. Most of the time I just had people tell me I sounded stupid or the stuff I liked was dumb. His reaction was surprising.

Either that or my version of normal was so abusive that any kindness seemed like a gift.

I didn’t know how to feel about that, so I bottled the feeling.

Like I always did.

Surely that’ll never be a problem again in my life.

Bottled emotions…

Nah.

“Yeah…” I said, “I wasn’t really ever able to understand God before. I mean, I still don’t- who does, right? But like… it was the first thing I ever read that explained God in a way that made sense. Like… God as a concept. Not just some shit people say to each other on Sunday or whatever."

Dvar blinked slowly. His right eyebrow shifted up once and that was all.

But it was enough.

I smiled and went back to the menu.

“Oohhh! Let’s go!” I said excitedly.

Dvar was already smiling.

“Butter chicken and ramen! I already know what I’m getting.” I slapped the menu closed like a kid at a pizza place and slid it aside.

“Figured you’d like it here.” He chuckled.

“You bein’ nice to me?” I asked, smiling a little.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

I nodded, my amber eyes resuming their slow tick-tocking about.

“Okie-dokie.” I nodded again, mostly distracted.

Dvar stared at me.

I’d kind of gotten used to that.

Mostly.

I kept shooting him glances to see if he was still staring and getting myself caught.

My eyes would run for it immediately.

“So, what do you believe?” He asked after a still moment from the both of us.

“I believe I’m a clone. I believe it doesn’t do us any good thinking about the afterlife.”

“You believe you are cursed.” He didn’t ask. He concluded.

“…I mean would you call it anything else?” I asked. “I don’t think products get an afterlife. Is there a heaven for toasters?” I asked, looking at him with that genuine question.

Even though it was rhetorical.

He breathed a knowing sigh and nodded.

I saw understanding on his face.

“One can hope,” he said. “Though I think I understand you better now.”

I shrugged with my eyebrows.

It meant a lot to me.

“What do you believe?” I asked, looking up at him.

“I believe a great many things.” He sat back as the waiter returned.

“Boss Olmedo,” the waiter nodded in greeting. “How can I start your meal? Are you already ready to order?”

“Chana Masala and basmati rice,” Dvar said, clocking my odd eyebrow in his direction at his order. “I’m vegetarian.”

“How the hell did you get that big being vegan?” I asked frowning. More than a little jealous.

“Hot Yoga.” He joked.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“Right.” I said back sarcastically.

“Ask silly questions,” Dvar chimed as the waiter shifted his attention to me.

“And for you, buddy?” The waiter asked.

Wait, he’s Boss Olmedo, I’m just Buddy?

That’s fair.

Dvar saw the way my eyebrows flicked up at what I thought was disrespect.

He breathed a short sound of amusement.

I could tell the waiter was natively Indian even though his skin tone could have been from anywhere in Thread. He was a young man with heavy freckles on his brown face.

I looked at his name badge.

Jasprit.

“Hey, Jasprit,” I greeted with a chipper tone, my amber eyes moving over his name and face, accidentally trying to memorize them.

“Hello, sir.”

“Do you speak Hindi?” I asked.

“Punjabi first, and Hindi, yes.” He nodded.

“Cool, can I try to order in Hindi? I’m trying to get better at it.”

“Oh, certainly sir.” He nodded.

“Thanks. I’m gonna give this a try. Let me know if my Hindi sucks. Mujhe butter chicken aur basmati daud ke saath naan chahiye.” I said. I knew I was only conversationally adept.

Far from fluent. I could get through a conversation if someone held my hand a little.

Jasprit smiled and I could tell he was about to do just that. I could see the amusement on his face.

"Not bad, but actually sir, you just asked me for ‘Basmati race.’ Daud means running. You want chawal for rice. So it’s Mujhe butter chicken aur basmati chawal ke saath naan chahiye."

“Damn. So close.”

“Not really, but it’s okay. Good try, I’ll get both of your orders started right away. Would you like a beverage while you wait?”

“Water,” Dvar said, handing over his menu.

“Water.” I parroted him, handing over mine. “Mild by the way. I’m kind of a spice-vagina.”

Jasprit nodded and started away.

“A spice-what?”

“A spice-vagina.” I repeated. “Y’know. I don’t handl-…”

“I know what it means. Why did you say it?”

“I can’t say spice-vagina?”

“Stop saying spice-vagina.”

“You just said it though,” I pointed out, my face scrunched up in annoyance at the hypocrisy.

“Not the point,” Dvar said, knocking on the table with his fingertip. “Not in public.” He finished firmly.

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” I nodded quickly, realization setting in.

Dvar looked out of the window.

Not nervously.

He just kept his eyes out there.

Like he was waiting on something.

“What?”

He relaxed into the booth and exhaled a slow sigh after a deep, serene inhale. I envied the calm he had all the time.

“Red convertible. Remember it from earlier?”

“With those Yakuza guys in it?”

“Yeah… Thread and Meridian are run by a Chaebol. Handful of powerful families. Used to be 5 gangs. Now there’s just 3. The other two still haven’t gotten used to the… let’s say ‘changes’.” Dvar said, liberally using air quotes on the last word.

I scoffed, “Yeah, well, what are they gonna do?”

“Jump us.” He answered.

“Jump us…? Wait, what? I don’t wanna get jumped,” I frowned.

“You’re about to.”

“Huh?” My amber eyes snapped up to him. Then I followed his pointing finger to the parking lot.

The red convertible from earlier pulled up to the intersection and looked at both of us through the glass. And by looked at us, I mean everyone in it. All four of the guys from earlier.

One of them had a flip phone up to his ear.

“Oh come on…” I sighed, dread starting to bubble in my stomach.

It was just me and Dvar. Most every fight I’d been in I was with a highly skilled battalion, or platoon, or squad.

Or Mido Khan.

Who was pretty much a walking platoon. Safety kind of came pre-packaged in Silence missions.

Out here I was on my own.

“Yep… Aaaaand there’s car number two.” Dvar said, just as another convertible screeched to a stop at the same intersection. All of the men in them started pointing, gesturing and talking excitedly.

“Fuck…” I said through clenched teeth. “What are we gonna do?” I asked Dvar looking up at him, my eyes big and worried.

“We? No, no. What are you gonna do? I’m gonna sit here and wait for our food. I’ve gotta make a couple phone calls."

“…Dvar.”

“Mhm?” He intoned, reaching over to pick up his phone from the corner of the table.

“…You’re joking right? I don’t have any weapons. I don’t have channeling rings, bracelets, a punch cannon… hell a sword, man!” I looked at them again through the window, “They have swords! You have to be joking.” I stared.

“Mm-mm.” He shook his head a little, sliding his car keys over to me.

“What am I gonna do with those? You want me to run?”

“Please use your head.” Dvar said, staring at me as if I’d just said the dumbest thing in the world.

I was starting to panic.

How the fuck did he expect me to use my head?

Did he realize that wasn’t something that ever occurred to me?

“Use my-... use-… What the fuck does that even mean!?”

The slap that crashed against my face reset my core programming.

I blinkity-blinked oddly, then hardened a stare at him.

“That really hurts! Do you realize that!?”

“... Yes.” He said after a stare.

“So why do you keep doing it?”

“Not. In. Public.” He said calmly, “Do you think I want to keep slapping you?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

I rapidly blinked my amber eyes out of sync with one another for a second as he came back into focus.

“Go look in the trunk. There’s a sword. Wooden box. Do. Not. Touch. My. Punch cannon." He precisely instructed.

“Why?! They most definitely have punch cannons. I’m gonna get knocked out, Dvar.”

“No you're not and no they don’t. Very few Chaebol are Dharma Yog. Right now that’s just me. And just you. Not any of those dust mops,” he said as he looked out of the window again.

“Wait, I’m a member of a Chaebol?” I said, grinning a little. “That’s so cool.”

“Get that dopey grin off your face,” Dvar said, but he couldn’t stop his smile. “God you’re such a boy. Look, hurry up. Chaebol at least fight with honor. They might jump you, but they’re only gonna bring whatever weapon you bring. Until you break that rule. Don’t break that rule and you won’t get knocked out.”

“By a punch cannon.”

Dvar rolled his eyes in a blink, his head tilting as he resigned himself.

“By a punch cannon,” he agreed with a sigh.

I nodded, looking out the window again.

Eight Yakuza. Two cars.

“Piece of cake.” I swallowed. “I should probably tell you… I’m like the worst in my battalion.”

And what I didn’t want to say… I’ve never had a fight without someone with me.

Mido, my battalion… someone.

I didn’t want to say it out loud though. What if he thought I was a defective product? I wasn’t quite ready for rejection like that. Or going back to The Silence, a failure. I couldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

“A battalion of Dharma Yogs,” he reminded me, “I’ll make you better later. Can I make this phone call now?”

I nodded and hopped up from the booth, grabbing his keys.

“On the way.”

“Don’t let them dent my car.” He said after me as I started away.

I stopped on my way towards the door to look back.

“Will you buy me candy?” I asked, genuinely.

“What?” Dvar said, his face scrunching up in disbelief as he looked back at me. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He shrugged, going back to his phone.

“She won’t get a scratch on her.” I grinned, impish heading to the door, pushing it open.

The little bell rang above my head as I stepped outside.

Dvar was about to have to buy me candy.

And I never said how much.

That was all I cared about.

I saw them starting to stretch, crack knuckles, spit on the ground menacingly.

Trying to intimidate me as I watched.

I only had one question on my mind though.

“Wait, can you get sick eating too many gummy bears?”