This isn't part of anything I have written, to date.  The following is
based, vaguely, in the works of George Alec Effinger, but that is only
the setting.  Anyway, read on and find out.  Disclaimers and more notes
will be at the end.

Any comments and criticism welcome, just please be reasonably civil.

Business is Business
a short fic

	God, I need a cigarette.
	It's amazing how that is still the first thing to go through my head in
the morning, even after being quit for so long.  I don't need them, not
physically, at least.  Hell, physically, I don't need much at all.
	But it's a crutch.
	At least, that's what I keep telling myself, though it doesn't make the
ache any less.  Somehow, that single thought helps connect all the days
together, though.  A common theme, each day hurting just like the one
before, hollow and empty in the same, familiar way.
	Of course, when I start thinking like that, I know it's definitely time
to get up.
	I slept on this little mattress that came with the apartment since I
didn't have enough money to buy new things when I got here.  It smelled
like old cheese, but I just didn't spend enough time in this rat hole to
go to the expense and trouble of changing it out.
	There was running water.  That's about the best thing that could be
said for this place.
	That and it wasn't Tokyo.  Anywhere is better than Tokyo.
	I took the time to wash out of the sink.  It wasn't much, but better
than many families could do in that part of town.  
	Every now and then would catch a glimpse of myself in the grubby mirror
though I tried to avoid it.  When I've just woken up, I'm nothing to be
proud of.  Especially those days.
	I missed my hair, for one thing.
	Once, it was beautiful.  Long to the point where I had to tie it back
most of the time, but when I let it hang down, it would change itself
into a corona of silky auburn tendrils.  That was one of my few vices
when I was young, running my fingers through those strands and imagining
how bright the future was going to be.  It was gone by then, the hair
and the bright future.  One of the many sacrifices I'd made since
leaving Them.
	I paused, cupped hands filled with water almost to my face.  No one
should ever have something or someone become so dominant in their lives
that they're deserving of capital letters.
	That way lies heartbreak.  Betrayal.
	The cool water washed the thoughts away with the sweat of the night.  
	If there's one thing to be said for the city, it's that it made you
appreciate water more.
	Something about the name of the city still makes me snort in silent,
humorless laughter.  A city named "the city".  It's the kind of name
that comes from people who think naming narrow streets Broad Way is
clever. 
	But why bother with some profound, meaningful name when the city had no
need for it. 
	Out side of the small, glassless window, I could see it sprawl for
miles to a side, but not up.  In the desert, one builds out or down, but
not up.  
	I was dressed by the time my alarm went off.  I tried not to do that,
tried act more normally, but somehow I couldn't.  My body seems to have
a life of its own sometimes, getting up and seeing to my normal routine
without my having to prompt it.
	I hated that.
	I hated all of the things that come along with age.  The
responsibility, the feel that as you get older, you are not so much
getting set in your ways, but congealing into them.
	Another thought that I had to shake off.  Anger accomplishes nothing.
	Nor does running away, some nasty part of my mind pointed out. 
Quickly, I quashed that one as well.  
	Forget it.  Time to get to work.

***
	
	I've had a lot of jobs over the years.  Done a little bit of everything
at one time or another, but there were always certain jobs that I would
gravitate toward.
	Jobs where I could meet people, but not have to interact too much with
them.  Not have them ask questions.
	Occupations like this one.  There was always a call for a barmaid who
knew the business and didn't mind working the afternoon crowd, where the
tips were only a fraction of what could be made at night.
	But I don't care about money.  Well, not about anything in excess of my
bills, anyway.
	I'd been in the city less than four months, but I'd already been given
the keys to this place, so I could open.  People tend to trust me for
some reason.  I used to trust them, too, but that was before... No time
for that now.
	The girls weren't there that early.  There weren't even tourists on the
streets.  Just me and an empty bar.
	The only place lonelier than a bar at opening is a bar at closing.  I
filled the time by cleaning the glassware.  There was always a load left
over from the night before, not because the night shift was lazy, but
because I volunteered to do them.  
	Odd, that.  I like doing dishes.  
	Maybe it reminded me of the days when I used to cook so much.  I never
got to cook in the city since my little apartment didn't have a stove
and no one would eat it if I made it.  
	But Chiri didn't mind, and even paid me for the hour or so I spend
washing in the mornings.  
	Chiri.  She was the bartender most nights.  The club used to belong to
her, I'm told, and it's still called "Chiri's" even though she sold out
a while before.  No one talked about it much, but the real boss was some
rich Algerian guy, but I only saw him once, maybe twice a week.
	Word on the street said he was a street hustler gone mafia boss, but to
me he looked like a man who's afraid that everything around him is one
giant practical joke, and he's the shill.  I can certainly sympathize
with that but still can't say I liked him much.
	They also say he ripped apart a man with his bare hands.  Though I
don't really believe it.  He's just not the type.
	Perhaps half an hour into my dishwashing, I heard the door open and
someone walk in.  Over the water, it was hard to make out details, but
the pace sounded direct and purposeful.
	"We're not open yet," I call over my shoulder.  The girls didn't show
up till half an hour before lunch, and that was still an hour away.
	"I am not here to drink."
	I recognized the voice as belonging to Sheik Marid Audran, the boss.  I
hung up my towel and walked out of the small alcove holding the sink to
stand behind the bar.
	"You sure?  I think I've finally gotten that disgusting gin thing you
drink right." I'm not kidding, it's nasty.  
	"Nah, business before... Well, lately, it's just business."
	I nodded knowingly.  Business is business.
	"I ain't dancing for you.  My work is strictly clothes on."  Sometimes
it pays to have a knack with languages.  I know I find it useful to pick
up accents as I go.
	"Ain't askin' you to.  Just thought I'd drop by and see if you'd help
me out with a little something.  Guaranteed hassle free."
	"I'm listening."
	"Well, I've found myself in a position that requires an insider's
knowledge of Neo-Tokyo, formerly Mega-Tokyo, formerly Japan."
	"What makes you think I can help?"
	"Well, you're Japanese.  I could tell by your accent when you first got
here."
	"Maybe."  I'd only learned Arabic on my way to the city from Damascus,
and the tapes had been in Arabic-Japanese, so he was probably telling
the truth.  "What do you need?"  
	"Information.  It seems the country is collapsing yet again and the new
regime has sent agents to my associates for help reforming."
	"Associates?  You mean Friedlander Bey and his information brokerage,
don't you?"  Friedlander Bey was one of the two most powerful men in the
city, and Sheik Audran's patron.  He ran a large set of illicit
enterprises in the city, but mainly dealt in data brokering to the
nations of the world.
	"Maybe."  He gave me a very studied look.  "Though I wouldn't expect
just anyone to know that."
	"I've been around," I said it very mater-of-factly.  It was true, I
HAVE been around.  Quite longer than most people expect.
	"Then maybe you can help me out here.  These people don't seem to have
any backgrounds as far as we can trace, but they've got the whole
country behind them.  A prince and princess from the titles."
	Somehow, deep down, I knew how this was going to go.
	"Endymion and Serenity?  Ever heard of them?"
	Sometimes, no matter how far you run, things will catch up with you.
	But that doesn't stop me from running.  If they had agents in the city,
then SHE could well be with them.  
	I suppose it came as a bit of a surprise to Sheik Audran to find the
keys to the bar lazily spinning around on the counter and the doors
swinging closed behind my retreating back.  With luck, I'd make it to
the suborbital shuttle station before She realized I was in town.
	Buiness is business.  Action is action.

END

I own none of these characters, which belong to their respective
authors.  

Alright, so, what was the point of this piece?  Well, I thought it was
somewhat interesting though it doesn't go much of anywhere.  The
Effinger characters mostly provide a setting for a SM character to live
in for a few months.  It's short, but maybe meaningful.  Probably not,
though.

The primary purpose of this was to get myself a little more in touch
with my inner child (he does all the writing).  He's a sick little punk,
though, so... well, I'm not sure what was going on in this. Needless to
say, I'm a marginal step closer to getting back onto the writing wagon
and finishing my languising projects. 

Anyway, my thanks to anyone who got through that without getting bored
and leaving ^_^
-- 
Tim Williams
http://www.angelfire.com/tn/twillia/ 

"This time, we're leaving nothing to the imagination.  We tried that
last time, and, in our opinion, it didn't work." -- Henry Rollins,
"Driveby Shooting"