Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

and he wore a cap with a visor like a duck’s bill. Like so many before him, he sized me up as I approached the lamppost where he’d stationed himself. I could almost see the gears working. I looked like I had more money than he did, but he could tell I wasn’t likely to give it to him. Out of habit or sheer stubbornness, he tried to talk to me. The unintelligible words came out as a wheeze.
    “No money,” I said.
    He shook his head, indicating that wasn’t what he was asking for. I had no idea what was on his mind, but I stopped and rummaged in my pockets. I found McKesson’s cigarette pack and lighter. I must have shoved them away automatically. I wasn’t sure if I was a smoker or not, but either way I didn’t want to try one. I might be kick-starting a dead habit. I handed them over.
    They were received with an appreciative cough. “Thanks, buddy,” I heard.
    I kept walking. A cluster of businessmen approached next. Their conversation was loud and alcohol-fueled, punctuated by laughter. I thought to myself that here, at least, were some people enjoying themselves. When we drew close and passed by, my one body to their four, they stepped aside and quieted. They gave me as much space on the sidewalk as they could.
    Why was that?
I asked myself. How did they
know
I was different? What instinct or facial expression had tipped them off? Sure, I had a gun in my pocket that probably still stank of gunpowder from being recently fired. But they had no way of knowing that. I wore fresh clothes, including ahoodie, but I wasn’t bug-eyed and scowling. Still, they somehow knew to be wary.
    The encounter disturbed me more than others I’d had because I’d already begun to suspect I was a walking disaster. The more I learned of my life, past and present, the more it involved danger for anyone who came near.
    What had Rostok said about my past? To work with what I had. That meant the photo, I’d supposed at first. I had studied it, and come up blank. There was no date on the back. The picture looked new, even though it had obviously been taken many years earlier. I suspected that was due to the fact that it was an object. If they couldn’t be burned, they were probably immune to the effects of time as well.
    What else had he said? He’d asked me about my earliest memories. He seemed unsurprised I’d lost my memory. There were no questions about that. Was amnesia so common a thing that it would go unremarked upon? I didn’t think it was. Where did that leave me? I thought hard for a while, and there was only one person I could come up with: Dr. Meng. She’d let me go and asked me to keep doing what I was doing, to get at the bottom of the deaths. I certainly hadn’t found many answers, but I knew enough to make a report. I decided I would return to the sanatorium in the morning and talk to Meng again. Maybe, with the new information I had, she could fit more pieces into this puzzle, and we could help each other.
    At the next corner, I paused for a red light near a bus stop. Two Asian girls leaned sleepily together on the bus stop bench. Their heads touched to form a pyramid for mutual support. One wore a spray of magenta spikes, while the other’s hair was a tropical blue. They both sported nose rings and clusters of what looked like staples punched through their ears. Flame-shaped tattoos grew up out ofboth their blouses to lick their necks. They were young and pretty, despite their best attempts to the contrary. I could tell they were tired, rather than destitute. The pair caused me to smile faintly. They were only travelers, far from home. I suspected the dyes could be washed out and some of the metal bits were just clip-ons. Maybe the matching tattoos were spray-ons as well. In any case, they were clearly up past their bedtime.
    Something about the two girls on the bench made me dig out my cell and call Holly. I figured she’d probably gone home by now. I’d avoided it up until now, not wanting to explain Jenna or apologize for meeting her. There had been a waiting game going on between us, I realized. Neither of us had called the other all day. I had to admit, there had been a lot going on and I hadn’t really thought about it much. But I figured she probably had been thinking about us. I wasn’t sure how my call would be received. Had she grown angrier, or cooled off? There was only one way to find out.
    “Hello?” a familiar voice said.
    She had answered on the second ring at 2:00 a.m. I figured