Cyberpunk

the light? Lucy asked.
    Pico shook his head no. He wanted to be in the dark with her even less. He could feel the Senti crawling across his own thigh and he grabbed it in a quick swoop and offered it back to Lucy.
    Keep it, she said, a gift.
    Is it expensive? he asked.
    Extremely.
    He nodded and put it back on his leg, still disgusted by its function. Thank you. Pico sat down on the floor, a patchwork collage of rug scraps, and studied the ceiling.
    Your friend Mouse has a bounty on her head, did you know? Lucy said to Pico. Her whole family does. Did.
    Pico looked at Mouse who still covered her face.
    Not Basucorp, Lucy said, government. The dogs were nothing. You would have received a helicopter ride to oblivion had I not found you. Her wi.n is damaged—it used to protect her identity, but its defenses are fried and now it’s spouting a fire-hose of data, the slutty little thing.
    What should we do? Pico said.
    Lucy shrugged, we must remove it. She turned toward Mouse and exhaled through her lipless bottom teeth in consideration, her cheeks puffed out grotesquely. They won’t send patrols down here, they are too afraid of the disease. But they know you’re around here somewhere. They will be waiting and listening for you. She unfolded her long hands and beckoned. Come here, dear. We must do it now.
    I don’t want to, Mouse said.
    Wants, Lucy said, rarely make much difference.
    It has everything.
    I know, but I cannot fix it. You will be a real pepenador after this. Not many get the chance to start everything over. In time you might even appreciate this. Come. Pico, fetch us a scalpel from the top drawer. Lucy pointed to a set of listing enamel kitchen drawers.
    Lucy slowly pushed Mouse’s face down into her lap and bared the thin white scar at the back of her neck that Pico had seen earlier. Pico balled his fists and hopped once in nervous anticipation, then he bent close and held Mouse’s hand. It repulsed him to see the leper’s ugly claw touch Mouse’s hair.
    Lucy pulled a Senti from her own scalp and placed it on the scar, where it hunched into her flesh. Mouse tensed and then relaxed. After Lucy removed the Senti back to her own scalp she made a deep incision with the scalpel, following the old line of the white scar. Mouse was quiet.
    When the incision was just right, Lucy reached her claw-hand into Mouse’s neck and Mouse screamed. A moment later Lucy pulled out the wi.n, a small white cylinder covered in blood which trailed wispy lines back to Mouse’s neck. Lucy cut the lines.
    Here’s the awful little thing, Lucy said. Now you are one hundred percent human again. You are lucky. You are immune .
    Mouse cried quietly in her lap as two Senti patched up her wound, and then fell asleep there, with Lucy stroking her hair.
    Lucy held out the bloody wi.n and scalpel to Pico. Take these and clean them off.
    He was unsure of how to clean them off and Lucy offered no suggestions. Finally he wiped them on his pant leg. She said nothing after that, so he put the wi.n in his pocket and replaced the scalpel.
    They are helping her get through it, Lucy said. If you wish, there are tools in the bottom drawer.
    Pico found his nacker in a corner and pulled out Lucy’s tools and eagerly set to work disassembling it. He was relieved to have something to do. He repeated in his mind the tharpoon throw that had disabled the machine, and fetched the small module he’d chipped from its top.
    As he worked, he tried to block from his mind what he’d just seen. The image of Lucy’s face behind him, the object that had been extracted from Mouse. Instead he wondered who she was. Who her brother had been. He didn’t remember when they’d come to the dump. Three, maybe four years ago. He thought they’d come like everyone else: When there was nowhere else to go. When they had nothing left to do but become nobody. For himself, he was born there. Nací en la basura, crecí en la basura, yo soy de la basura.
    What will you do with it, Lucy asked, pointing her fleshless chin at the nacker. He thought she looked at it with distaste.
    Pico shrugged. He didn’t know. He only knew he wanted one, and had disassembled and reworked it with a confidence that it could be his. Maybe like a pet, he said finally. But he knew it was not that.
    Lucy raised her eyebrows and Pico turned away from her. She was a ghastly sight.
    I can teach the pepenadores how to cha ! He mimed a karate chop at the top of the nacker to demonstrate how one