"Wouldn't it be better to leave the engine running?" Clark said as they got out and dropped to the pavement. "Then you could just hop in and leave when it's done, and you'd have less wear-and-tear on your starter."
"In some neighborhoods that'd be okay. In others, not so much." He looked around. Like many areas that weren't corporate housing, this street was lined with battered old vehicles, dry and poorly-maintained lawns, and houses that were barely holding together. Still, he'd seen and lived in worse places than this.
"Oh? Why's that?"
"The last time one of our drivers left her engine running while she delivered a pizza, somebody stole her car. She went back to where she'd parked and it was gone. The cops found it a month later, filled with cigarette butts and empty beer cans and several used condoms."
Clark's mouth fell open as if such a thing had never occurred to him before. Which it probably hadn't.
"What?" he finally mumbled.
"See, that's one of the surprises I said you were in for." He walked across the front yard and Clark followed him
Clark shrugged. "Well, I honestly can't see anybody trying to steal a car like yours."
"Yeah, I doubt there are that many people who'd want to drive around in something like that. Besides, it wouldn't exactly be hard to find if someone did steal it. But there'll always be somebody, somewhere, who'll try to jack it or take something out of it just to fuck with me." Jack reached the front door. "Okay, try not to get in front of me. I'm gonna record this in case anything weird happens."
"Record?"
"With these." Jack pointed at his eyes. "I record video clips of my more irritating customers and sell them to make a few extra bucks. A couple of my friends have a video channel and they've managed to land a few sponsors to cover their costs. They've had a few bucks left over after paying the bills in the last few months, so they buy my clips. They put 'em on their channel along with reactions, and I'm told they've gotten quite a response from the audience." He chuckled. "With all the fuckedupness I see every night, it's a pretty steady source of income."
"Oh. Well, that's good." Clark grinned suddenly. "I've been wondering about your eyes, actually. My dad works for a company that makes things like that, but I don't think they do custom ones like yours. Just natural-looking ones."
They reached the front door. Jack rang the doorbell before replying.
"I got mine from someone who doesn't work for any of the corporations. He just has his own small operation. Does cybernetics, other electronic stuff, works on vehicles and whatnot."
"Ah. I bet you could've gotten a better price from an official dealer, though. Pay a lot for those?"
"I doubt I would've paid less for top-of-the-line models. Besides, I couldn't go to one of those places because I don't have medical insurance." He arched an eyebrow at Clark. "I can't afford it, but every time I apply for assistance, I'm told I make too much money to qualify. So I had to borrow the money to pay for my eyes."
The door opened before Clark could pry any more, which was a relief. Jack didn't want to explain how an unlicensed cyberware dealer had access to bleeding-edge technology. Not that he actually knew, himself. Cybernetic body parts had been around in various stages of their evolution since before he was born. A lot of progress had been made since then. Still, none of it was quite as advanced as Jack's eyes, or so he guessed from the stuff he'd seen in Warren Hu's workshop.
Jack began recording and tried to smile at the customer, a guy in his sixties, and didn't care whether it looked convincing or not.
"Hi." He glanced at the screen on the top of the hotbox and rattled off the total.
"Uh … how much?" The guy stared at him.
Jack held in a sigh and repeated the amount. Oh, yeah, this is gonna be a good one.
The guy stared at him and Clark a moment longer, then said, "Why don't you come in while I get the cash? It's gonna be a minute."
Jack glanced into the room and found two other people, a man who appeared to be in his thirties and a girl who looked around twenty. Jack used his eyes to check for heat signatures just to see if anyone else was in the house, and found one human-shaped pattern behind the door. He stepped through the doorway, peeking around the edge of the door as he did so. The other person was an old woman sitting in an armchair and looking at him with eyes that couldn't quite focus properly.
Entering a customer's house was a safety issue, but Jack had stopped giving a shit three years ago. Besides, the way his luck worked, these people wouldn't turn out to be dangerous, but would just try to coerce him into their masturbatorium or some goddamn thing instead.
She pointed in the general direction of the guy and mumbled, "He'll get the money. I can't see real good, so I can't do it myself."
"Ah. Okay." Jack waited for him to hobble over to the table, pick up a wallet, and fumble with its contents. He glanced at the younger guy and noticed there was something a little off about his face, just like the girl.
The girl lifted a handful of sunflower seeds to her mouth but wasn't able to get them in. They rolled off her hand and sprinkled onto the ugly brown carpet, and the girl began chewing even though her mouth was empty. She didn't seem to notice.
Jack watched her chew air for a moment before shifting his attention to the old guy, who was still counting dollar bills. Meanwhile, the younger man turned and held his hands out, expecting Jack to hand the pizza over. Jack shrugged and opened the box. It wasn't as if he couldn't handle these people if they tried to pull something. He took the pizza out, handed it over, and kept recording everything he saw.
He glanced over his shoulder and found Clark hovering near the door, fidgeting and looking as if he might bolt any second. Jack chuckled and returned his attention to the older man. Finally, the guy finished counting the money. He hobbled over to Jack and gave it to him. Jack flipped through the cash to be sure the amount was correct. It was -- the exact amount, in fact.
Jack stuffed the cash into a coat pocket. "Thanks." He turned to the door and walked back to the hearse. Clark hurried to catch up with him.
"Wow," Clark muttered. "That was weird."
"I bet there's some inbreeding going on in that house. Those people look like they stepped out of the deepest, darkest corner of Garth Ennis's imagination."
"Who?"
Jack sighed. "Let me guess. You don't do much reading, do you?"
"Nah." Clark shrugged. "I read a lot of sports and car magazines, though."
"What a fuckin' shock." Jack got back in the car. He had to resist the urge to drive off and leave Clark standing by the curb. When Clark closed the door, Jack started the engine and lurched away from the curb, heading on toward the next delivery and wondering if it would be even more fucked-up than this one.
The way his luck usually worked, it was almost a sure thing.
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