Asimov's Science Fiction: July 2013 by Penny Publications Read Free Book Online Page B

cheerleader type bloggers ever had to confront a gloppy mound of fish guts in their daily rounds? Probably not. Would she ever reach such exalted heights? It seemed so improbable most days. Little Camila Delgado, CEO, CFO, COO, Forbes 400. Not gonna hold her breath! But at least she had her Big Papi Bengt, lovable whackjob, and they had a roof over their heads and food on the table—
    Bengt? Food? Where was he anyhow? Getting dark, no call, no text. Could he have gone back to the Lifter truck on his own—summoned by the esoteric forces who'd made his ear tag, drawn in like a deer to a poisoned salt lick, a tiger to a steak-baited blind, a f ly to perfumed f lypaper?
    Hastily shutting down her gear, Cammy whipped off a text to Bengt. Still no response. She tried a voice call. Nada. Her nerves started to thrum, like telephone pole guy-wires under hurricane assault. What appeals for help did Bengt's silence leave? Olala!
    "Yeah, sure, he was here, Cam. Left hours ago. I hope he remembers to turn shed-der." "Shedder?" "Like a soft-shelled lobster. So he can squeeze out of the Lifter truck. It's basically a giant lobster trap. They fatten us up and when we can't get out, they ship us away." "Don't be so stoned and crazy, Olala. Help me find my husband."
"Seguro,
I'll give you an app to find the Lifter truck,
porque no?
I gave the same app to your
hombre.
Be sure and shoot a lot of video."
    Olala's use of Spanish was a habit he fell into when talking to Cammy. Normally she didn't mind it, but now it pissed her off.
"Pendejo!
You deliberately sent Bengt into a death trap?"
    "Sorry, ligand. Between a man and his destiny, I interpose my carcass not. No apologies, no blame. You want my search warez? Hold the phone for a squirt of jahjuice!"
    Out on the streets, Cammy turned on Olala's app—but it seemed balky, pre-beta, of no value. The only visible effect was that it changed Cammy's service provider to Wiggleweb. Early adopters get the shaft!
    Shaft? She saw a sudden mental image of Bengt on a skewer running up his butt and out his mouth, her husband roasting on the spit, his skin crackling, his rendered fat dribbling into a trough of seaweed layered over steamer clams, the trough wedged between granite stones amid a seaside fire whose f lames had already blackened Bengt's face and singed away his hair. His blank, boiled-solid eyes were milky white, and sinister reggae music was playing and—
No!
    Something within Cammy rose up to replace Olala's seemingly useless app. A heartlink to Bengt, a gutlink to the living Lifter dessert pudding, a global positioning system using old-school
biological
cells. At every turning, Cammy followed her instinctual twitches and tics, her heart tugs and her intestinal rumblings.
    Seven-thirty PM. Streetlights—those that remained unbroken on this mingy, deserted avenue—blipping on in automatic response to daylight's demise. And there, a block away, the Lifter truck! Hulking like something awkward and out of its native element—like a boxy stranded submarine or a downed suburb of the flying city of Laputa—the truck radiated a sexy/dangerous vibe. Its edges were smooth and gently curved, its cab was sleek and wind-faired. Cammy videoed it. Somehow the truck reminded her of a love-robot Sorayama gynoid pinup calendar that Bengt and his friends had greatly admired. Boyish Bengt and his little needs.
    Quietly Cammy felt along the trailer for a glossy chrome entrance rectangle that would revolve like the pivoting haunted-house bookshelves of many an
Abbott and Costello Meet Karloff
epic. But today the seamless exterior of the truck stymied her efforts.
    Apparently Lifter was accepting no new patrons tonight. Full complement of overstuffed, duck-and-plum-sated victims? No spare room in the giant chrome lobster trap? Cargo hold full! And
cargo
implied a destination, mind you, a place to deliver the goods. Departure imminent, full speed to the abattoir!
    Cammy wasn't about to let her Bengt be salted