New Character

It was a typical winter in the City, and Christy was sweating. It was so bad that she knew once back home all her clothes would have to go straight into the wash.

Snow fell inches thick and without end. Almost no personal vehicles were about yet the roads were still noisy as dozens of salting trucks did the rounds repeatedly. Sheets of ice on every surface meant wearing boots with spiked soles made of solid arenak. Hundreds of busy humans crunching about their ways made a din only marginally less wearisome on the ears than traffic. The wind currents which served to keep people sane during the summer were now a freezing kiss of ****. Only down in the massive trenches where canals used to run centuries past was there no visible activity. Everyone either stayed bunkered down in their homes. Anybody **** for groceries or to get to work would just enter the Burrows and find their way from there.

By a few heartbeats per minute she wasn't quite running. And all the energy not being spent on maintaining her balance was going into resisting the urge to sprint. To be chased by the devil would have been preferable to this. More eyes were fixed on her each second than in her entire life - at least to her knowledge. Someone was bound to ask her soon. She could see the questions radiating from other people's faces non-verbally: "What's wrong with you?" "Wouldn't you like to strip off a little?"

She was wearing her stuff just the same as yesterday. It was the same woollen overcoat and scarf and beanie and hood as every previous cold season since moving out of the family nest. Through the same parts of the City she had walked around free of undue attention in the same outfit. Near the north elevator station into the ancient reservoir she'd crossed the same old woman with over-large eyes, an Outworlder migrant. That lady had stared at her as if she were painted neon blue from head to foot. Everyone stared at her like some bizarre abomination. She was the only one not exposing her private parts.

All manner of unspeakable horrors were created by the cutting of holes in front of the chest and crotch areas. Buxom women carried valleys of snow while hairy men appeared to have bleached pubes. The cold appeared just as impotent on these mad creatures as Christy, but for them it was effortless. They marched proudly straight or hunched over regardless of the temperature, not remotely concerned about the prospect of frost biting their bits off.

It was time to bail. Back to Mother and Father, all was forgiven. Urban life was a mistake. Christy was already calculating the least cumbersome combination of clothes to stuff into her smallest suitcases, and which means of transport she was currently able to afford. She would most likely claim one of the ticket reduction coupons for students and board a nightly launch of the Mag-Lev. At the old homestead she would do as Dad always wanted, learn to tend the farm, get used to getting dirty and tired every day, learn to love the monsters and machines, fulfil her destiny. Anything but this nonsense.

To quit the City might not be enough. Her view here could be a snapshot of the entire Canton, if not more. The whole world couldn't be affected though. People gawped as though she were trampling some sacred cow centuries unchallenged. Perhaps a local population could be mind-fucked to that extent overnight, but to go planetwide was inconceivable. Christy scoffed at herself. What did she know about what was inconceivable or not? The absolute evisceration of taboo was inconceivable at any scale...

Shattering ice broke her spiralling thoughts of doom. Behind her a car crashed through the street on arenak caterpillars, tiny shards of white flying from its sides. The contradicting noises of a softly humming engine and the crunching tracks grated on Christy, but she welcomed the opportunity to direct her vitriol elsewhere than her predicament. Too busy cursing the vehicle, she completely failed to see it slow down until coasting alongside her. A small majority of the crowd was walking in the opposite direction to them both, so it looked like woman and armoured car were deliberately accompanying each other.

"Dear girl, what are you fleeing from like that? An Ice Warrior? Tell me where you live and I'll drive you there straight away."

Christy nearly fell over face-down in the snow. She stopped dead on the spot and nearly caused somebody behind to collide with her. The caterpillar car also stopped, and she understood who had called to her.

It was a woman at the wheel, and though her face didn’t betray her age, the tone and timbre of her voice suggested she was mid-forties or more. That she had a friendly smile, and the offer of a warm shortcut almost flew past Christy’s guard until she saw through the car window that the lady’s breasts were hanging loose from holes in her jacket; she was one of them.