Èryuè 1st 250X Cont.

Sirka shook herself away from her memories and glanced out from the balcony. She watched the cascades of grey rain plummeting down to the cobbled streets below.

The faint glow of neon-lit signs flickered across the cityscape like a marbled coloured glaze. Sirka wondered how many stray kids were stood down there with their tongues stuck out, tasting the acid rain until they couldn't stand the burn anymore.

She thought about how the street vendors would currently be scrambling to cover their wares so as to protect them from the weather. The usual blue plastic sheeting hurriedly pulled across carts of fried dough balls or buttered noodles.

A swooping sound jerked Sirka's attention back to the balcony balustrade upon which she was seated. A bedraggled and smog-covered pigeon stood by her bare feet, cooing hoarsely. Sirka smiled softly before reaching for her unfinished protein bar, crumbling the brown mulch into a scattered offering that the bird quickly accepted.

"You shouldn't feed those things."

Sirka jumped as Tasha's voice came from behind her on the balcony. "Dirty flying rats," her maid sniffed, gesturing towards the pigeon hobbling up and down the stone railing, his gnarled stump leaving scraped pock marks in the layer of soot.

"They carry diseases too," Tasha warned, jerking her arm forwards to scare the bird away. Sirka narrowed her eyes as she watched him flap off into the vapour clouds hovering above the city. It wasn't long before his outline was lost to their nebulous grey forms.

"I can't catch diseases," Sirka mumbled, drawing her fingers back from where she'd been proffering further crumbs.

"So far as we know," Tasha said airily, "but it doesn't make sense to be touching those things at any rate." She sighed and scraped her greying brown hair back over her shoulders, "Won't you come inside? It's time for your pills, I'll fix you some warm milk."

Sirka closed her eyes and half smiled, "Synthetic or Bovine?"

Tasha snorted, "The amount of pills you take we can't afford Bovine every time." She reached out to squeeze Sirka's shoulder, "I'll put some cocoa powder in it from Akeem's personal stash and you won't be able to tell the difference."

"He's fired people for less," Sirka grinned as her green eyes flashed open to meet Tasha's warm brown ones. The maid huffed and clicked her tongue, "He won't fire me, I'm the only one that remembers to buy his spiced eggs from the market. Anyway he's in a good mood today - it's your birthday dinner tonight."

"So I've heard," Sirka murmured, swinging her legs back over the balcony railing and following the maid into the penthouse.

She slid the glass doors shut behind them, the toxicity alarm was already bleeping a minor level warning on the ceiling. Tasha shot her a predictably chiding look, Sirka was the only one that ever opened the doors.

"We'll be smelling the pollution for weeks," the maid grumbled, moving to press a coded sequence of buttons on a wall mounted keypad, "I'm constantly having to activate the nanos."

Sirka bit her lip so as not to smile at Tasha's frustrated expression. Moments later there was a whooshing sound, indicating that the microscopic robots had been released. Undetectable to the human eye, they could be programmed to redistribute harmful pollutant particles in the air. Nanotechnology, however, was a luxury only the truly wealthy could afford.

"How many are coming for my dinner?" Sirka asked with an amused look as Tasha rolled her eyes. They both knew Sirka's condition did not allow for friendships or even acquaintances.

"Three including you and your father. Medic Poulter has been invited," Tasha replied.

"He invited my Medic?" Sirka responded incredulously. "For what possible reason? So the man can see where nineteen years of his pills and suppressants have gotten me?"

"Don't be ungrateful," Tasha chided, "those pills and suppressants allow you to..."

"To what?" Sirka interrupted with a sigh.

"Oh don't ask me about the science of it Sirka!" Tasha snapped, throwing her hands up in a defeated gesture. "To be able to bear the physical and mental pressure of three extra strands I suppose. I mean we upped the dose only yesterday and look at you today - talking in full sentences and everything! Besides, it stops you from seeing fractals doesn't it?" Tasha hurried on ahead into the kitchen, leaving Sirka to sink down on the couch in the opulent living room.

Fractal suppressants - their invention eight years ago had heralded a new era in helix-orientated treatment programmes. They had been guaranteed to work on eighty-four percent of sufferers and as far as Akeem and Medic Poulter knew - they had worked on Sirka.

She sighed as she glanced up to the armchair opposite her where a black-haired girl was sat cross-legged, wearing a white night-shirt with her green eyes fixed on Sirka. The girl smiled widely when she noticed Sirka looking back at her.

"Happy birthday!" Iskra announced before her face took on a frowning expression and her fingers scratched agitatedly at her knees, "You can't see them you know - the eyes? In the dark but they're there and you know they're going to be blue, like blue daisies but all the petals fell off and that's why no one can eat pumpkin pie."

Sirka blinked slowly and looked back down to where she'd inadvertently been scratching at her own fabric covered knee. "Thanks," she muttered before stilling her hand. "Happy birthday to you too."

She turned away from her fractal and looked back out of the balcony windows at the greyed panorama of the Polis beyond.