New Taboos by John Shirley Read Free Book Online Page B

unclipped an electronic wand from his belt. One end of the wand held a sensor; the other end had a little screen, like a smartphone. He pointed the sensor end at her. “Reading your tracker now, and … Look.”
    He held it so she could see the screen. She saw her face on the screen, a miniaturized mug shot. She saw anumber under the face, and under that, the name,
Gloria Munoz.
    â€œI don’t even look the part,” she said hoarsely.
    â€œGuatemalan, illegal immigrant,” he said. “Extensive criminal record. Gloria Munoz. Get used to it.”
    She looked him in the eyes and said in a low, flat voice, “I’m not going to get used to it.”
    He returned the wand to his belt, and walked past the autoguard. It remained behind, for a long moment, seeming to watch her.
    A woman laughed. A woman sobbed.
    The robot rolled away.

    Faye made herself eat part of her dinner, some kind of meat and cheese quesadilla from a package. She washed it down with water from her sink. She went to the toilet, tried to pee. Couldn’t, though it felt like she needed to.
    She went to the bunk and lay down. Her stomach burbled.
    Gloria Munoz. Get used to it.
    She picked at a paint bubble on the wall.
    I should try to talk to the other girls
…
    Later. There would be time. She just felt too limp. She felt like a fly badly swatted. Alive but broken, buzzing to itself as it slowly died.
Buzzzzz.
    Faye closed her eyes. The women’s voices seemed to merge into the buzzing … After a while the corridor lights went down. They didn’t go out completely. The women got quieter. She heard footsteps, and a cell door opening, voicesshe couldn’t understand. She turned to look as someone walked by. It was the Jamaican woman, escorted by the heavy black guard, and a robot. She had her hands cuffed behind her.
    â€œShe going to the berdwar,” one of the women said, down the hall a little.
    Berdwar?
Boudoir.
Rudy had mentioned a special cell …
    Faye turned over on the bunk and picked at the paint bubble. Voices echoed down the hall, unintelligible. Perhaps half an hour passed.
The berdwar.
    Faye closed her eyes.
    Don’t let them do this. Even if you have to kill yourself.
    The bunk was old-style. It had metal-mesh under, that made sounds like a crow when she shifted. She might be able to unwind some of that mesh, sharpen it somehow, and tear her wrists up. Better to bleed to death than to …
    â€œGloria Munoz.”
    Just ignore it. Don’t respond to that name.
    The cell door clicked. She turned to see who was coming in.
    â€œGloria …” Gull’s voice.
    â€œMy name is Faye Adullah.”
    He seemed to have come alone, with not even an autoguard. He licked his lips, looking unusually self-conscious, his arms gangling at his sides. He glanced behind him, then went to the wall beside her, leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest, and spoke in a low voice. “I can arrange it so that you don’t have more than one person. One man only—if it’s me. Otherwise there’ll be a
lot
of men. They have money and power, these guys, and theycan do most anything with you and you wouldn’t like it. If you just give yourself to me, and I mean without a fight, I can … you know … you’d have your own room. There’s a boudoir building and you could have your own … And I’d make it all easy …”
    She sat up on the bench and looked at him, surprised at the stab of pity she felt. She could see loneliness, a kind of blurry desperation in his face. But she wasn’t going down that road, at all.
    â€œNo,” she said.
    â€œGloria …”
    â€œFaye. Adullah. And
no.
No one is going to touch me. No one at all, Samuel. Get me out of this prison and then we’ll talk about you touching me.”
    She tried to make it sound believable. But neither of them believed the offer.
    â€œCouldn’t do it if I wanted