The Information Junkie by Roderick Leyland Read Free Book Online

was, as we sped home and the sun bleached the car.
    And then he talked in that big-balled way. He said:
    'Charlie, get yourself laid. Never mind about that Cybernurse. Get your bloody leg over, spread some mustard.'
    'Belinda...?' I said timorously.
    'Got an idea about Belinda,' he said. 'Leave her on the back burner.'
    'Leave Belinda on...? '
    'Yeah. Put the dish on a low light.'
    'PENSIVE PROGRAMMER PUTS BEAUTIFUL BLONDE ON BACK BURNER.'
    Babies, I'm gonna tell you how it is. That's all I can do. How it was. So I was going home. Martin, an actor, was driving me and there were some friends there he wanted me to meet. The Cybernurse wasn't real but Belinda was. Martin was definitely real which left only Ffion. And Ffion I remembered was the Fierychick, the one who torched the sheets, the one with the fire in her thighs. The one who, when she did the letter V with her legs, set the bed alight and sparked the meadow ablaze. She'd got under my skin. Some of her data had strayed into my program. A little of her information had leached into my database. Her amber had...
    I knew what I was going to face. I knew. I knew. I KNEW. Because I was beginning to remember Martin from the old days. I knew that when I walked through that door she was going to be there. But there was more to it than that. Wasn't there? Because Martin's always been a fixer. He's always been able to set up tricks, pull stunts. I'd open the door and see George Orwell standing there, with a sour smile on his face. Or would it be Anthony Burgess? Or would they all be there? Burgess, Priest, B.S.J.; Hardy, Dickens, Sterne; V. Woolf, L. Woolf, the Big Bad Wolf; Little Red Riding Hood, Big Red Riding Hood; any size Riding Hood.
    Martin said: 'Are you sure you had the full job in there?'
    'Yeah,' I said. 'They cleansed all my data.'
    He said, 'Sounds like they've done just half the job: they've only given you a datascrub, a datascrape.'
    There was a pause while I considered. Then Martin turned, smiled generously in that thick-lipped way he had, and said:
    'Do you think they're beginning to see through me?'
    'I think they already have.'
    'You mean,' he said, 'that I'm a fictive device?'
    'Yes.'
    'So you'll have to jettison me?'
    I nodded.
    'Okay. Let's wait for the next lay-by.'
    'Martin, I think you've misunderstood.' His face blanched. 'You must leave whilst we're moving.'
    'You're joking,' he said.
    'No, I'm not.' I paused a moment. 'But not yet...' I continued. 'Not so near the end of a chapter.'
     

 
    7
     
    Got to tell you, babes, that it is possible. Especially in an Oldsmobile. Here's how you do it:
    'So, Martin, open the door, edge yourself from the seat, keep your foot on the gas and your hands on the wheel.'
    I start to move sideways and take over the wheel so all Martin has to do is retain pressure on the accelerator. I say:
    'Now I'll place my foot on the pedal and, when I tell you, move yours off.'
    So Martin is now hanging on to the open door, ready to jump. I say:
    'I'm going to slow down now.' I ease off the juice. 'Right,' I say: 'Jump!' And he jumps.
    Do I hear him shout, 'Good luck!'? Or is another driver swearing at me?
    So, buddies, now I'm driving.
    Okay. Who's waiting for me at home?
    After negotiating the M25 I start to get into the thick of London traffic and my block of flats comes into view. I pull up, park the car. For a moment I pause because I realise I have Martin's Americamobile. How can that be? However, I dismiss that temporarily and approach the communal entrance, noting there the terracotta anti-skid surface and making a mental note to obtain a tub of it to spread in my underpants.
    But I don't have a key. What am I going to do? The doors are protected by an entryphone. I know: I'll ring the bell:
    'Hi, Charlie,' says Ffion. 'Is that you?'
    'Yeah.'
    'Are your contacts clean?'
    'Yeah.'
    'Coming up for a one?'
    'Mm?'
    'Fancy a slow burn?'
    'Yeah.'
    Knew she was going to light my touch-paper.
    The front door buzzed, I entered and took