Hard Luck Hermit

“They’re making a fucking movie about it,” Kamak grumbled. “It’ll tell the story better than I ever could.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be filtered through that specnet drama bullshit,” the haranguing bar patron said. He had offered to buy Kamak a drink, which Kamak appreciated, but was now insisting on making a conversation out of it, which Kamak loathed.

“Good, they’ll probably make Tooley way less annoying,” Kamak said. “And I hear I’m getting played by Shemet 1-1-K-C. That guy’s handsome as hell, right?”

“He doesn’t look anything like you.”

“I said he’s handsome, didn’t I?”

Kamak turned away and returned to his drink for the eighth time, hoping his unwanted drinking buddy would finally get the hint. He did not.

“Alright, just give me one thing,” the annoying patron said. “What’s something you think they’re going to leave out of the movie?”

“Probably a lot of the swearing we did,” Kamak said. “We said some shit you can’t say in the videos.”

“Like what?”

“We’re in public, dumbass,” Kamak said. “But keep it up and maybe you’ll hear it anyway.”

“Keep up what?”

Kamak dared to turn away from his drink long enough to glare daggers at the annoyance.

“I got to take a leak,” he said, before finishing his sip. He did, but that was only half the reason he stood up and left. It was time to execute the classic maneuver of stepping out to the bathroom and never coming back. The bar was probably crowded enough for him to pull it off, and the annoying hanger-on at least had the common decency to not follow him into the bathroom. Kamak found his way to the bathroom and enjoyed the relief of being away from the annoyance, and the relief of relieving himself.

“Hey, are you Kamak?”

The question was answered with a heavy and indignant sigh.

“Brother, if there is one law of the universe, it is that you do not talk to another man while he’s pissing.”

“You don’t look that tough.”

Kamak finished up his current task with a final shake and then moved off, passing his hands under the cleanser on his way out.

“I could beat you in a fight,” the bathroom botherer said. He followed Kamak out the door, wobbling with the unearned bravado of a typical drunk.

“Probably. Go tell your buddies you definitely could beat me, and I agree,” Kamak said.

“Oh, but they’re going to want proof.”

The drunk grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and held it above his head. Before he could even bring it down, he got a palm to the throat. The bottle fell out of his hands, and Kamak caught it midair, returning the bottle (only partially spilled) to the patron the drunk had snatched it from. The drunk gagged on the ground as a bouncer cut through the crowd to grab him and drag him to his feet.

“Sorry about that.”

“Shit happens,” Kamak said. He was used to seeing scenes like that play out at bars across the universe. Some idiot always ended up trying to pick a fight with the toughest looking guy in the room. Kamak even considered it fine entertainment, when it was happening to someone else. The problem was that it kept happening to him.

Kamak stormed out of the bar and back into the streets of the festival. A few people cast sideways glances at him, but he moved too fast for any wayward idiots to try and stop him for another inane conversation. For a time, he just kept moving, trying to stay ahead of the idiots, but it eventually dawned on Kamak that he had to actually be going somewhere. He decided to go for another drink, this time in a nicer neck of the woods.

Up atop the high cliffs, there was a second set of bars and entertainment venues, much larger and fancier than the ones down in the valley. Kamak did not linger too long on the literal demonstration of class stratification and settled in at the quietest bar he could find. The polished stone bartop was inlaid with tiny threads of gold and platinum that spelled out the names of various expensive champagnes and wines in various languages.

A few years ago, Kamak wouldn’t have been able to afford even a single drink in a place like this. Now he had enough money that he could order a glass of their finest chatta without even asking for a price tag. Kamak took his drink and managed to get halfway through the glass before someone interrupted him.

“Kamak D-V-Y-B.”

“Yeah,” Kamak said. Worst case scenario, the fancy champagne glasses they had here would hurt a lot less than the heavy bottles down below.

A silver skinned woman practically slithered into the seat next to Kamak, and made herself comfortable leaning on his shoulder. Kamak did a quick run through of his mental registry of species for silver skin, and then realized that there was no such species. Whoever this woman was, she had the money and the ego to genetically modify herself for the sake of vanity.

“I heard you made quite an impression at Loback Loben’s party,” she whispered.

“I did.”

“I also heard you have quite a long history with Timeka.”

Kamak didn’t dignify that question with a response. She clearly already knew she was right.

“Et-fe Lithrette. I represent EmSolo Aerodynamics. I imagine you’re familiar. You probably killed some of my coworkers.”

Kamak continued to say nothing, because she was still right.

“Don’t worry, no one holds a grudge,” Et-fe said. Kamak believed her. When you went high up enough in any corporation, no one actually cared about anybody else. Kamak’s first major contract with Timeka had been murdering the CEO’s son. Friends and family were just fuel for the fires of profit.

“So did you just come to tell me you don’t want to kill me?” Kamak said. “Because against all evidence, I do assume that about most people.”

“I wouldn’t waste your time on something so frivolous,” Et-fe said, chuckling as if it were a joke. “But I would love to hear some stories of your time at Timeka.”

She laid her real intent on so thick it could barely be called subtext -she wanted company secrets.

“I don’t know anything interesting,” Kamak said, also not bothering with subtlety. Despite cutting ties with Timeka, he had no intent on crossing them. No amount of good reputation would save him from an “unfortunate accident” at the hands of Timeka.

“Well that is disappointing,” Et-fe said. “I had so many...interesting stories I wanted to share with you too.”

“Shame,” Kamak said. He turned away from Et-fe, just as he had with the annoyance back at the bar.

“Do look me up if you ever remember anything intriguing,” she said. She gave his shoulder a teasing brush with her hand as she pulled away. Kamak just rolled his eyes, finished his drink, and left. He’d already been disappointed on the high ground and the low, and unfortunately for him, there were no bars in the middle.