Slumrat Rising

No Place Like Home, Thank God

No Place Like Home, Thank God

The Army discharged him at the maintenance depot, then loaded him onto a bus back to the city. It dropped him at the central bus depot in the middle of Harban City, along with thousands of other soldiers getting discharged that day. A lot of families turned up to greet their returning children. Truth told the sibs to stay in school. He had some errands to run.

The train carried him away from the central station out along one of the spidery limbs of the subway system. It was kind of funny. This line, the one that took him back to his old neighborhood, ran from the northwest of the city, down through Central Station with its attached bus depot and overland rail station, then under the river and down to the southeast. On the north and west side of Central, you went through nice neighborhoods. Successful plumbers, small time architects, the necromancers who run the local funeral parlor, those sorts of people. Not fancy, but nice. Nobody there would be ashamed of their address.

Once you were south of Central, though, you were on the wrong side. Loads of shops selling discount off-brand plastic junk. Supply warehouses. Pawn shops with light up signs and two doors that you had to be buzzed through separately. One person at a time. Then even those started fading away, and it was just huge concrete blocks of black mold farms disguised as apartments. Thousands upon thousands of units built so that the least desirable could be stashed somewhere out of sight. Available to labor when needed. Where the Provisional Denizens could breed like the slumrats they were.

Up to heaven, down to hell. Same train line. Truth walked out of the train station, his old instincts flaring to life and being crammed down again. He was still in uniform. And he was a Starbrite Man.

Squeak squeak, motherfuckers. Run for me. He walked right down the middle of the sidewalk, and dared someone to try something.

His first stop was Old Feng’s Pharmacy. He had been too busy after he broke through to come and say something, but every time he ran his Nine Worm Cultivation, he thought of the tonic and Old Feng’s. Prentiss looked unchanged, his mound of flab jiggled as it ever did. The shop felt smaller now. Prentiss felt smaller. Truth knew he had grown. And even the corner stores in the neighborhood around his new apartment had better medicines.

“Hey Prentiss, how’s it going?”

“Truth? Damn boy, you shot up. Guess Army food suited you. Heard you broke through before the SAT and got into Starbrite.” He grinned. Truth noticed his teeth were yellowing. “Glad to have helped.”

“That tonic did work, but it’s also the reason I came by. Did you… get any more of them?”

Prentiss just shook his head. “Nah, it was a scav that brought it in. Guy claimed he found it ‘round back of the warehouses over by West 153’rd. Plainly bullshit, but whatever. Why? I can’t imagine you want to buy more of it. I know you moved out.”

“Yeah, no, not on a fucking bet.” Truth shook his head. “Not big on, you know, public safety or whatever, but I figure you needed to be told in case that shit ever came in again. It did work, kind of. It also nearly fucking killed me.” He gave Prentiss a hard look. “My head was fucked, guts were fucked, puked blood, ten hours of pain I can’t even put in words. I was literally praying for death so long my lips split. I saw impossible shit, the worst trip you can imagine. When I came to and could move my body, all I wanted was to kill. Just kill.”

Prentiss looked stunned.

“So, you know. Not asking for a refund or anything, but maybe don’t sell that shit.”

“I won’t. Prager save us, that’s fucking awful. I am really sorry about that, Truth. You know me, I try to sell legit stuff as much as I can.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. It’s why I’m not busting your balls. Just, seriously, don’t sell that shit.”

“No chance, no chance.” Prentiss shook his head. There was a little lull.

“Hey, how did you know I passed? And moved out?”

“Your Mom told me. Bragged about how you were on a very elite track at Starbrite, and it would be a spectacular investment on my part to buy MegaShroom from her to stock here in the shop.” Prentiss gave Truth a rather flat look. Bordering on unfriendly, even. “You can see how that conversation went.”

There was a total absence of MegaShroom on the shelves.

“Good. Shit’s a scam. I cut ties with her and the old bastard the second I passed the SAT.” Truth frowned hard. “Is she trying to hustle people because I’m a Starbrite Man?”

Prentiss rolled his eyes at the phrasing. “Yeah, your Dad too. Of all the dumbshit things.”

Truth stood there fuming. On the one hand, he knew this was coming. This was a major reason he did everything legally possible, short of changing his name, to separate them from his life. Legally speaking, there should be no blowback on him because of their shitty behavior.

On the other hand, how dare they. How dare they! They wanted to turn him into a slave! Told him that nobody would hire him! Beat him, starved him, robbed him. And the sibs! Now they are running some bullshit scam that might fuck up his career? How fucking dare they!

“I mean, seriously.” Prentiss continued. “Starbrite employs, what? Three hundred thousand people globally? Maybe more. Biggest chunk of that is right here in Jeon, too. And that’s just the people they employ directly. When you get right down to it, this is a Starbrite affiliated shop.”

That jerked Truth out of his spiral for a second. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Prentiss shot him a dirty look. “Our warehousing space, what little I have, is a bit of floor in a warehouse owned by a company which is thirty percent owned by a much bigger company which is forty percent owned by Starbrite. But before you make yourself look foolish, yes, each of those is less than fifty percent ownership, but who do you think owns the rest of the shares? Nobody that would cross Starbrite, is who.”

Truth snorted. He couldn’t laugh, but he kind of wanted to laugh.

“MY POINT is that fucking everybody has some kind of contact with Starbrite. It’s pretty much impossible not to. So trying to scam people saying that your son is a trainee whatever in Starbrite is just very, very dumb. Nobody cares.”

“I care. A lot.” Truth thought.

He made his way from Old Feng’s to Phil’s Scrap, but there was already a queue out the door. And Phil was never one for idle chat. Truth pressed on, until he was outside his old apartment building. He looked up. He really had to crane his neck back. Floor after floor after floor of little boxes. Choking hot and humid in the summer, freezing cold and moldy in the winter. No privacy. You heard every little sound around you, and wished to hell you didn’t.

He remembered the one time a drunk john kicked in their door, looking for the hooker down the hall. The hooker in question “fixed” the problem by writing directions in spray paint on the walls. Truth watched her shamble, naked and filthy, down the hall with a can of spray paint, burnt out of her mind on base and with a Red Bat cigarette hanging from her lip. Putting up the truest ads he ever saw. After that, Truth concluded that virginity had its charms, limited though they may be. He kept hoping for an actual girlfriend, but…

Nostalgia be damned, he hadn’t missed this place for even one second.

He went in. The hallways were still filthy. The spray painted directions had been long since painted over, and long since replaced with even more lurid messages. Was she dead? He couldn’t remember. Probably. It has been a couple of years now. The elevator was working today, which was kind of amazing. Somebody, maybe several somebody’s, had turned it into a full service bathroom. Also kind of amazing, but more in keeping with the spirit of “Home.” He looked up the stairwell. A couple of known dealers and fiends were peering back down at him from way up. One made a little kissy face at him.

He could take him. He could clear the whole goddamn stairwell. It might even be fun. It would definitely be cathartic. So why couldn't he muster the energy to go do it?

The dealers were starting to get fidgety. They weren't used to being stared at, and didn't like it. That kind of look, it meant disrespect. It meant a fight.

When you got right down to it, what did he want from his parents? An apology? Hah. Yeah, no. Not going to happen. How about beating the absolute shit out of them? Maybe starving them? Locking them in the apartment and sliding a single slice of cheese under the door once every two days as the DT's and withdrawal kicked in. Only opening the door to beat them if they made noise, or cried or were too quiet? Make torturing them for the next seventeen years his full time job, as a thank you for "raising" him so well?

Or he could just... not. He could ditch this poisonous, evil fucking slum. He could go to his beautiful Class C apartment, go to the Sibs, go to Starbrite and get paid more money than anyone in this horrible building had ever seen. He could condemn his parents to misery. A life sentence in the slums. However short that might be.

Screw closure.

"YO! Who here needs to take a shit and wants to get paid for it?" He yelled up into the stairwell. He was out of here forever. But he would be a bad son if he didn't leave his parents something to remember him by.

Truth practically sprinted back to the subway. As the train raced northeast, he felt like he was rising from the depths. Like he was being transported from the seabed of an ocean of spiritual sewage. A cute girl about his age came on the train, wearing cute sneakers, a cute skirt and a cute knit top. She smiled politely at him before finding a seat. Truth thought he might get the bends. He hung onto the strap and didn’t try to chat with her. He didn’t think his legs worked at this altitude.

Truth checked the time. The sibs should be out of school. A sensible, decent older brother would make a beeline for home, hug them and have a big happy reunion. He, on the other hand, still felt stained by his dip back into the filth of the slums. Truth knew exactly what would make him feel better. He jogged, still in uniform, backpack on his back, straight over to the Starbrite Personnel Office attached to the apartment complex.

The wait wasn’t too bad, and the pleasant looking middle aged lady who eventually saw him also gave him a polite smile. So, really, worth it.

“I want to enlist.”

“Ah, Mr. Medici, I think you have the wrong recruiting office.” She smiled a little more genuinely.

Truth shook his head in frustration. “I mean, I passed my SAT, talisman maintenance focus. I just got discharged from the Army. I’m a provisional employee.” He showed the sigil on his wrist. “I want to start work at Starbrite, get sworn in, and be a real Starbrite Man.”

She chuckled sympathetically. “I can understand that. Got your discharge orders?”

Truth nodded and handed over the cheap crystal. She dropped it into a little bowl. The spell carved into the bowl glowed a gentle white, as the chained spirit quickly verified and reviewed everything in his military file. The wax tablet in front of the Personnel officer began to writhe. Truth assumed it was taking notes. Given the way the recruiter’s eyes rolled up into her skull and her eyelids started fluttering, the System was dumping a lot of information directly into her head.

“You were a busy little bee weren't you?” She muttered. “Give me a moment please. You have a sort of happy problem.” She twitched gently. “Nice, yeah, I think we can do that for you. Nice, very nice. Great start to a great career, I’d say.”

Truth was shifting in his seat, anxious to hear what she had to say.

“Alright Mr. Medici.” She straightened in her seat, and her eyes returned to normal. “After reviewing your file and the needs of the Company, I can offer you immediate employment-”

“YES! Thank you so much!”

“In Security.” She concluded. “Ready to enlist?”