I’d been having such a fantastic dream before I started choking on my own puke. 

I roll over, splattering red across the floor. 

Why is it red? 

I try to breath, but I can’t. 

I shove the legs off me so I can sit up, but I slide straight off the bed into my own mess, face first. I heave, gagging, but my breath is still blocked. 

I hate when I’m the one gagging. Other people? Fucking gorgeous. 

Trying again to puke, my chest feels like it will explode. Nothing comes out. I grip at my neck. There’s a broken mirror in front of me. I’m puke smeared. Eyes bloodshot. Face turning purple. 

Hair looks good though.

My chest convulses, but my arms have given up, falling to my sides as I slump against the edge of the bed. My vision begins to fall into white. 

Why is it called blacking out? It’s usually white for me. 

What the hell was I dreaming about? Maybe I can get back to it after this. I’ve gotta finish the plot line.

Right, it was my brother. But it didn’t look like him, that’s weird. But it was him, that’s for sure. Who the fuck knows what dreams are anyway. I once heard someone say that they were a god’s last mercy for designing the world how it is. What about people who have nightmares though? That’s pretty shitty. 

I’m lifted forward and beaten on the back. An explosion shoots out my mouth, across the mirror I face. 

I gulp air. My chest is on fire. 

What a weird dream. I’m trying to remember it but its slipping like its water. 

“Kallix! Kallix are you alright? Oh my god!” 

Who the fuck is screaming at me? 

I rock back onto my calves and look up. A girl is looking down at me. Damn she’s pretty, even with the makeup smears. That must’ve been who’s legs I moved. 

“Can you breathe? Talk to me baby!” she cries. 

I burp. “Bright as day. Clear as morning.” I grab the side of the bed and pull myself to my wobbling legs. Now that I’m not suffocating, my headache smashes into me like a tsunami, gripping the left side of my head, neck and shoulder like a clamp. 

There’s another girl passed out on the bed, naked and bruised. 

A burly man lies in the corner of the room, crumpled in half, bleeding from the side of his head. He’s snoring. 

I stumble to a desk, littered with cleansers and eyeliner and foundation and whatever the fuck. I grab the whiskey bottle, but its empty. It’s just the tiny line of liquor that teases you into thinking you can get a lick out, but it never leaves the neck of the bottle. I toss it and flinch as it smashes on the floor. There’s a vial of white dust next to the mirror. There’s a spray nozzle attached. Bansilin. Fucking Bansilin. Should I kill her?  

“Hey! What’s your problem?”

I check the door to the room. The stairs leaning down are draped with a mangled carpet, burnt in patchwork. There is a giant robotic dog emulation, sprawled across the bottom step. It’s ears twitch with my movement. Beyond it, I can hear more slurred chatter and groaning. 

I turn. 

There’s the window. 

But she stands between me and the window. I stumble to her, letting my hand fall on her waist. “Sorry babygirl, just checking around to make sure you’re safe.” I lean in for a quick kiss. 

“Ew! Kallix you’re covered in puke. Why is it red?” She recoils. 

As she shrinks from my grasp, my path to the window frees. 

Freedom. 

I’ve overstayed my welcome. You should always have the pretty ones to miss you. 

But wait. 

I need cash. 

She probably has some around here somewhere. 

I swivel to her desk and yank some drawers open. Cables. Touch Cards. Fucking lipstick. 

There. Embedded in a bracelet. How fucking escapist 

“Kallix get out of my stuff! What the fuck are you doing?” 

I pick up the bracelet and break it. I hold up the piece that has the credit microchip and tap on the microscopic screen. Four eighty six. Not bad at all. 

“Put that down and get the fuck out. Right now.” There’s the crackle of electricity behind me. 

I glance over my shoulder. She’s furious, face all scrunched up. Looks like a goblin. Ha, she’s adorable, even when she’s mad. Who is this girl again? 

There’s a military grade taser in her right hand, phone in her left. “I will call the police.” 

“You do that baby, I’m going to get something to eat. You want anything?” 

“Put it down!” 

Her shrieking stabs my brain. “Fuck, alright, calm down. No need to get hysterical. I set the bracelet on the desk, but as I turn, I grab an empty bottle. I rip sideways, smashing it against her head. 

She falls gracefully back onto the bed. The taser hits the other guy, sending him into convulsions. 

The dog downstairs erupts into barking. Terrible, prerecorded barking. Sounds like they used one sample for every bark. It doesn’t even vary in volume or tone, just the same bark shooting out, over and over again. I’ve never heard a real dog’s bark but I even in movies its better than this. It’s metal teeth will still tear me into beautiful pink ribbons though. 

She’s groaning and trying to sit up. 

It’s probably time to leave. 

I stumble forward, tripping on a pillow and smack into the windowsill. I lurch forward, flopping forward and falling straight out. 

The girl screams. 

Ah. Sweet, fresh, smoggy air. 

Oh fuck, wait, this was the third floor? 

As I spin through the air, my hand shoots out, grabbing the gutter drain. I yank myself towards the building, ripping the gutter from the wall in the process. I feel my shoes touch the wall as I slide down, giving me leverage. I spring off, pushing myself out and against the neighboring house. The concrete tears the back of my shirt, but I land feet first on a windowsill on the floor below. I slip off, grabbing it with my hands and swinging into an arc. 

A dumpster breaks my fall. 

“Kallix! Kallix what the hell!” 

I grunt, pulling myself from the dumpster. A wrapper sticks to my elbow. Wait, there’s still food in the wrapper. The remains a burger. Fucking score. 

I wolf down the few bites, and vault out. 

I jog off as a drizzle breaks out. Her shouts fade away. 

Four eighty six credits is crazy. 

I reach for the bracelet in my pocket, but its not there. 

Fuck. Left it on the desk. 

Whatever. I’ll figure it out. 

The sound of the West Side engulfs me. It is day… I think, but the neon signs still flare. The dense blanket of clouds giving the shade they need to shine. The smog of cars and industry fills my nose, the perfume of my world. It smells like oil. It smells like opportunity. 

The headache presses deeper. I want to cut out my muscles and tendons and stretch them out on a clothesline. I don’t have any pills, but I also don’t want to talk to my brother right now, so I’m at an impasse. 

A spindly arm shoots out, grabbing my ankle with an iron grip. “Oi!” I shout, lifting my other leg to stomp through the man’s wrist. 

“Eyes blink in the sky and we bleed but never sigh!” 

I stop before I break his hand. I recognize those ramblings anywhere. “Stoodio! How’ve you been my man? Streets treating you well?” 

His grip tightens, dirty, broken nails digging into my shin. “And the blood drips down to the sewer below and feeds the rats, and the rats run to raven lord, because he has tamed them long ago, and they bring the blood for his vials and syringes that he stores.” 

“Alright, buddy, that’s good to know.” I yank my leg free. 

Stoodio lashes out like a tiger, biting my ankle.

Good thing he has no teeth. 

I kick him down and continue on my way. 

He’s much more interesting nowadays than he was as a professor. 

I continue my jog. 

I need water. 

I would drink the rain if it wouldn’t make me grow teeth on my tongue. 

Ah, a convenience store. How convenient. 

Stepping inside, I’m blasted by a sanitizing spray. I cough, waving away the sterile fumes. 

Immediately I’m face with a giants screen, showing me myself. In blinking lights it says, ‘YOU ARE BEING RECORDED. ALL ACTIONS DONE AGAINST SUPREME LAW WILL BE HELD AGAINST. YOU’. 

“Alright, alright. I get, jeez,” I mutter, walking forward. 

Shoppers with kind eyes divert their course away from me. Those with dead eyes look me up and down. 

I tread, muddy tracks splattering on the ground as I ignore the cleaning station at the entrance. 

Snacks. Synthetic meat. Fake produce. Energy injections. Pain medication. Travel licenses. Holographic porn. Gatling cigarettes.  Water! Ha. 

I snatch a one liter bottle. I rip open the wrapper and try to open the plastic top. It turns from green to red, blinking. 

A box unit bot slides up to me. It unfolds into a small, child sized robot, with a display screen showing a simplistic face that’s supposed to be cute. “You must make the credit transfer before being able to access your selected item.”

Why do they make the voice so nasal? 

I kick the robot over. It lands with a clang louder than its size would indicate. An alarm starts screaming as its face turns red and angry. It’s roller plate begins whizzing, but without arms its unable to pick itself up. I step over it, walking to the front counter. 

The cashier, a frog shaped, middle aged woman, is speaking into a mic comm. “Yes, there has been a disturbance. Young, sickly, pale, male with torn clothing. Long disheveled black hair. Skinny build, wearing track pants and a grey open hoodie. Looks ill, covered in puke, possible plague risk. Could even be early Scaling starting.” 

I leap onto the counter, squatting in front of her and rip the comm from her hand. I tear it from the link. I like how she flinches at the sparks. I hold the bottle to her. “Open it.” 

“You have to pay for your purchase, sir.” 

I turn my empty pockets inside out. “Too bad.” Why didn’t I rob that girl’s house before I left? She was definitely rich. 

“I can’t open that for you, sir.” 

I crack her with my fist. She cries, blood splurging out her nose. “Open it.” 

With a shaky hand she takes the bottle and swipes the cap along a metal device with a laser outline along the cash register. The top pops off. 

“Thanks darling,” I say, grabbing the bottle and gulping it down. 

I hear heavy steps at the door. “West Side Central Core Police Division!” barks a twat. 

Turning around, seeing two men sprinting towards me, carrying their bellies with them. One of them swings an electric baton at me. I leap over his stubby arms, landing atop the aisle shelves. 

“You are under arrest! By order of Supreme Law, you will taken and tried in court for disturbance of the peace, violating government property, aggravated assault and theft!” 

“Hold on man, I gotta take a piss,” I say, scurrying along the tops of the shelf. I locate the bathroom and leap from aisle to aisle. 

“Get him!” 

I slide off the last shelf towards the bathroom. I slip in and lock the door behind me. 

An old man screams, covering himself with his shirt. 

“Relax.” I step over him onto the back of the toilet and out the window. I twist, climbing up to the roof of the building. It’s flat, with a buzzing generator and puddles of industrial waste. 

I finish the water bottle, then relieve myself with a sigh. 

The cops have already gotten back outside and ran into the alley beneath me. He waves his electric baton, trying to be menacing. 

“Bring a gun next time,” I say, laughing. 

“Return the stolen goods and turn yourself in!” 

“Ok, ok, fine. Give me a second.” I lean over him, looking down into the alley. I open the bottle and let my piss pour down onto him by the liter. His electric baton crackles, jolting into his bones. The scream comes from his partner, because he can’t use his vocal chords as he’s electrocuted. 

I leap over them and onto the next building. “Catch you next time boys. Drinks on me.” 

I scurry across the rooftops, disappearing into the veil of the noise and smog, trying to think about my dream. Too bad, I’ve already forgotten it.