New Taboos by John Shirley Read Free Book Online Page A

‘ouch’!”
    He’d told her about “ouch”—a gas that suffused your lungs with burning agony once you breathed it in. It paralyzed you with pain. He’d told her about the worm, too, and what had happened to Steve. She wasn’t eager to fight with robots.
    â€œWhat do you want, Gull?” she asked.
    â€œWe’re moving you,” he said.
    â€œFor the record, I’m demanding a phone call and a lawyer,
again,
neither of which I’ve ever had. I demand them right now! I assume that robot records everything.”
    â€œNot everything,” Gull said blandly. “Come on.”
    The black lockiffer made the bored, twirling gesture with his hand that meant turn around.
    The inside of Faye’s mouth felt desiccated; her heart was pounding. She looked at the black guard, trying to catch his eye. “What’s your name?” she asked.
    He didn’t look directly at her. Like Skaffel. He made the twirling gesture again.
    â€œTurn around now,” Gull said. “Autoguard, be ready.”
    Faye turned slowly around and put her hands together behind her back. She felt the cuffs pinch down,closing cold on her wrists; she felt the discomfort in her shoulders. It was all becoming familiar.
    â€œTurn around,” Gull said. “Go out the door. Turn right, ahead of the autoguard, take one step and then stop.”
    Maybe this is all drama to scare me. Maybe this time they’re letting me go.
    She’d had that same thought many times before.
    Now she walked out of the open cell door, turned right, took a step, and stopped. She saw a man looking at her from another cell. It was the trustee, Carlos. He was stuck in ACU because he’d been caught leading her to Subpod 18.
    He nodded to her, with no bitterness in his face. She nodded back.
    She heard Gull squeaking up behind her. “Go ahead, on down the hall,” he said.
    Faye walked on, her knees weak. The ACU door clicked open ahead of her, directed by the robot. She walked through, down a short corridor. Another door clicked open. She was in Subpod 18. The walkway stretched ahead of her, concrete and iron on the left, old-fashioned barred cells on the right. But now she was seeing it in full light. She heard women talking to one another, one of them laughing, another crying, another calling someone a bitch hag, “just a fucking bitch hag, just a …” Bitch hag, over and over. They passed a cell where a black woman said something to her in a Jamaican patois too thick to understand.
    The guards were fulsome presences behind Faye. Someone hissed a warning at their approach, and the women’s voices quieted.
    Then she came to an open cell.
    â€œEnter the cell,” said Gull.
    Feeling like she was sleepwalking, Faye stepped into the cell. The black guard slid the barred door shut behind her.
    â€œTake a step back, toward the bars,” Gull said.
    She did. The other guard reached through, unlocked her cuffs, and took them. She straightened her arms and stretched.
    â€œInmate Gloria Munoz, dinner is in two hours,” Gull said. “There’ll be a consultation after dinner.”
    Faye turned to see who Gull was talking to. He was looking straight at her. There was just the suggestion of a smile on his face. The black guard was walking away; the autoguard was waiting quietly, beside Gull.
    â€œWhat did you say?” Faye asked.
    â€œGloria Munoz, dinner is in—”
    â€œWhat?”
    A woman she couldn’t see in the cell to her right said, “Bitch, that your name, just shut up! You Gloria now!”
    Some of the women laughed. One of them sobbed.
    â€œYou’re not going to pull that bullshit,” Faye said, her voice cracking. She turned to the robot. “You record this! My name is Faye Adullah, my address is—”
    â€œIt’s not recording now,” Gull interrupted. “You’re wasting your breath. Here, look.”
    He