The fading light of the day managed to poke its way, here and there, through small patches on the window where the grime and grease was slightly less dense. From somewhere outside, the high, mechanical scream of a passing train rose to a piercing screech, and the paper thin glass rattled in its frame. After a while, the train’s cries faded away and the dull, distance moan of traffic replaced it, accompanied by the more immediate sound of metallic squeaking and the occasional grunt.
What little light that did make it through was able to, just about, push back the gloom that shrouded the room, its glow thin and hesitant as if unwilling to permeate any further into the tiny apartment. Just below the window, a clunky, cheap TV was perched precariously on a small stand that was struggling to take its weight. A frayed cable wound its way down and snaked across the dusty, stained grey carpet, swerving out of the way to avoid the occasional crumpled beer can or takeaway carton. The cable jammed itself into a socket next to a small, dull yellow fridge. The door hung slightly ajar, revealing a few more cans of cheap, budget-priced beer and a carton of milk that was slowly warming its way to room temperature. Adjacent to the fridge, a doorway led into another room and, as the light peered inside it was able to illuminate a tiny bathroom that was only just able to fit a narrow shower, toilet and sink – and maybe a person, if they squeezed in.
The sound of grunting and heavy breaths became quicker.
Opposite the bathroom doorway, a thin set of drawers hugged the wall, on which a small cell phone was lying. Above the drawers, a metal rail had been hammered into the wall, which was being used as a place to hang t-shirts, jeans and other worn looking clothes. A few had fallen off the hangers and lay crumpled on the floor. Next to these, a rackety metallic bed was shoved into the corner of the room. The loose, wearing springs screeched rhythmically as the two shapes writhed on the threadbare mattress and thin sheets, one straddling the other. The rate of their movements increased, the shape on top pushing down harder and faster.
Finally, the thin figure below gave a last groan, bucked once, twice, three times, then lay back still. For a moment, the only sound drifting through the small apartment was the sound of the breathing. From the streets below came the light, distant sound of a car honking its horn, the vague sounds of an argument.
The shape on top gave a sigh and rolled off, clambering off the bed, moving closer to the light and revealing it to be a woman, her blond hair slightly straggly, the make-up she wore making it hard to say how old she was. The dim light cast a sheen to the curves of her body as she looked down, and then over her shoulder at the person still in the bed.
“I need to clean up.”
The figure in bed shrugged, the bed springs giving another squeak as he sat up, leaning back against the wall. As the woman drifted into the bathroom, the shape in bed leaned over and pulled open the first set of drawers, pulling out a small carton and a lighter then resuming his slumped position against the wall as the sound of water splashing and toilet paper tearing came from the other room. A click, and the flash of flame as he lit the cigarette briefly showed a thin white rat, his messy hair falling over his blue eyes. Then it was gone and his features were once again concealed by gloom, the glowing end of the cigarette seeming to hover in front of his silhouette.
The woman padded back into the room, moved to the foot of the bed and started to pull her dress back on as the rat watched her in silence. When she finished, she stood up and cocked her head at him.
“So?”
The rat waved an arm to the drawer. “Same place as before.”
She crossed to the drawers and pulled one open and fished out a wallet, pulling out a handful of notes. She counted it, then nodded to herself and slipped it away. Heading for the door, she turned back to briefly look at the shadow leaning on the bed. “Same time next week?” From the tone of her voice, it was clear that it was a question she was used to asking.
A small pause. “Maybe.”
The woman snorted, as if in expectation of his answer. “At least clean your windows next time, I can’t see shit in here.” Rolling her eyes, she swung open the door, her shoes clicking as she stepped onto the wooden floor of the grimy hallway beyond, then pulled it shut after her, leaving the rat alone.
Axel sat in silence, staring at the door. As he dragged on the cigarette, his eyes started to wander around the room. He reached up and flicked a switch on the wall to his left. A solitary, bare bulb overhead flickered into life, casting a dusty glow on the state of where he was living. A muscle in his scarred cheek tightened, and he quickly switched the light off again.
The cell phone on the drawers suddenly chirped to life, and Axel jolted, recoiling against the far side of the bed, his shoulder knocking against the wall before his eyes narrowed on the small device vibrating on the wood. Axel’s expression darkened. “For fuck’s sake…” Taking a deep breath, he slid off the bed and picked up the phone, wandering closer to the window as he flipped it open and saw Soren’s ID on the screen. His expression grew slightly distant, his metallic hand moving slowly up the device to hit the RESPOND button. “Soren,” Axel said, his voice dull as he heard the human’s voice on the other end. Reaching the glass, Axel rubbed an arm across the surface, sweeping the grime away and revealing more of the sprawling city of Seryet far below him. The daylight, though fading as the sun sunk lower into the horizon, now poured in with renewed strength, revealing Axel’s lanky body.
His ribs jutted out prominently, and here and there dark bruises were just beginning to fade. The blue glow of his eyes penetrated the lank white hair that hung over them. They were lined with dark bags, combining with the faint scars crossing his thin features to give his stare a slightly threatening look. His tail hung limp to the floor, and the rat’s left hand compulsively tightened into a fist and loosened again. Tightened, loosened. His originally young face had grown drawn in, gaunt. In the year since Lanthae, his face had grown to look like someone much older than 22.
He shook his head to himself as Soren’s voice continued. His left ear, a long white mark along its base showing where it had been crudely sewn back, hung at an odd angle and twitched when he moved. “Actuators… No. No, I don’t think so. Sorry.” Axel muttered, looking around him. If he could feel another bout of anxiety creeping closer, burying himself in augmentation work could keep it at bay, and scattered around the apartment lay random assortments of augmentation parts he’d assembled in an effort to keep the panic attacks away… sometimes it worked. So in all likelihood Axel did have some of the parts Soren needed – but he couldn’t face seeing him again so soon. Only last week Axel had gone up to see him, and the anxiety for the next couple of days had been particularly bad. What triggered it seemed utterly random to Axel; phrases, sounds, smells. Small things that brought back memories of what he’d been through…
Axel took another deep breath, bringing his mind back to the present as he realised he hadn’t said anything for a while. “See you later Soren,” he said and abruptly hung up. Glancing at the time on the screen, he saw it was getting on for 6 PM - almost time to get to work. Bending, the rat picked up his ruffled clothes from the floor and started to tug them on, his body bent as if under immense pressure.
