“Are you surprised? They bought your building after all.”

“My God, I’m going to be rich. I am rich! I have five hundred thousand dollars in my account right now, I checked, oh my God!”

“You need to settle down, Saru, you haven’t done anything yet. Don’t think they’ll let you keep that money if you fail.”

“I don’t need to listen to you anymore! I’m rich!”

She grabbed Eugene's $900 bottle of Baron Foran scotch and tore out the cork. She took a deep, long swig, so long Eugene tried to grab the bottle away, but she pressed a stiletto heel into his thigh and he doubled over. Right after the briefing with ElilE she’d raced back to her apartment and thrown on the best clothes she had—she looked pretty good, she thought. Now she sat on the corner of Eugene’s desk, heels on his thighs, skirt flirting open and closed in front of him as she swayed her knees back and forth—damn, she couldn’t seem to keep them still, another swig’d do the trick. It touched and annoyed her that Eugene refused to look up her skirt, tilting his head uncomfortably in any direction but right in front of him.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” he said. “You’ve got to get to work.”

“Work?” she said. This annoyed her. She kicked Eugene’s chair, pushing it back so it banged into the copper radiator behind it. She clamped her knees together. Fine then.

“I don’t need to work, Yoo Jeen, because I, am rich.”

Eugene sighed. He held out his hand for her to hand him the scotch. She held up a finger and took another long swig before handing it to him. He started to reach for a glass and then gave up and drank right from the bottle. It was like their lips were touching through scotch. Rich people scotch. How much money did Eugene have? Was he ten-million-dollars rich?

“Look, I’m thrilled you got this contract but it is serious business. I’m looking at this brief and you do not have a lot to go on.”

That annoyed her more. She found herself hating Eugene suddenly, lecturing her on work and responsibility. What did he know? All he did was shuffle papers around and take bribes.

“Don’t you mean ‘we’? We don’t have a lot to go on. You’re my partner after all,” she said.

“I’m your lawyer—that’s not quite the same thing.”

“Huh, I dunno, I thought you’d be a bit more supportive of me.”

He slapped his knees and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“No, I don’t know. What do you want? What do you want from me?”

Isn’t it obvious? she wanted to scream. I’m going to die out there you idiot and I just want one good screw before they cut my tits off! She just growled at him and the growl ended in a scream. She flipped herself backwards over the desk and landed in a pile. She picked herself up, grinning through her tangled hair, and threw a bunch of hundreds in the air.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Here’s for your trouble, sir.”

He put his head in his hand. Sissy came in, glaring daggers. Saru grabbed her by the waist and planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth, then pushed her away and stormed down the hallway, knocking over all the tables and ornaments she passed. She got to the street and puked on the sidewalk.

She dry swallowed two Claritol, and then two more—she’d grabbed about ten pounds of them from the Gaespora pharmacy. The familiar effervescent tingle washed over her brain, a bit more intense than usual, and all the fog and the joy and the delusion rolled out. All that was left was the terror. It wasn’t something she was used to—sure, fear, that was normal, that was the once-in-a-while, kick-in-the-pants, get-you-moving sensation that was just part of the job, part of life. But this was something else; this was fear even when there was nothing to be afraid of, no men with guns or hungry elzi or torture fetishist around the corner. It was stupid to be afraid of things that weren’t right in front of you, but she couldn't help it.

It was those damn Gaespora. That trick ElilE had pulled with the night and the Dracula voice. Way to go brother, way to psych out your star player before the big game. She’d always been able to trust her eyes, or at least some other sense. No matter how strong the drugs or how sophisticated the hack, there was always that nagging knowledge that something was amiss, that she was being played. But up there on the roof—that was real. It was night, everything felt right, but it wasn’t true. That was new. She was dealing with aliens, maybe, or people that thought they were aliens, which was just as bad in her book—especially if they could pull a trick like that. That was the problem—she didn’t know what she was up against. She needed to inject some logic and flush that doubt.