Page 41 of The Fall

While her back was turned, Kerr quickly darted around the room, searching for anything else out of place. A stray protein bar wrapper. A discarded Stim container. She re-straightened the covers on her bed. Fluffed the pillows.

But with the last drops of alcohol filtered, Kerr’s thoughts still refused to behave. Lusa was naked, right now, in her flat. Balling her fists, Kerr tried to push the facts aside. Why was she still aching for permission to stare for a few seconds?

The tap shut. Kerr heard the curtain pull aside. Drops fell and splashed against the tile. Shuffling. Objects being moved.

Kerr deposited herself on the sofa and closed her eyes in the hopes that indulging her imagination would be enough to satiate her. Her thin towel wrapping around Lusa’s body. What would it feel like to run a finger across those arms, from finger to collarbone without touching scrap of cyberware? How soft was the skin at her throat? If she asked, would Lusa let her find out or kill her immediately?

Kerr swallowed thickly, straining her ears. The clink of something against the steel sink. A rustle of fabric. What did she see through the condensation on the mirror? Was she wrapped in a towel, or standing nude? Did she see the same terrifying goddess as Kerr? Or did she hate a curve? Wish she could reshape a line? Kerr’s forehead hurt. Inviting her here was a terrible, drunken idea, but it was too late.

“What are you doing?

“Just resting my eyes.” Kerr snapped to attention. “The shots took a toll,” she quickly added.

“Ah.” Lusa nodded like she understood. “I thought it might be some cyberware thing.” She shrugged, a bit flustered. “I don’t really understand what that’s like.”

Her mind raced to come up with a cyberware-based reason she might be sitting, hunched slightly forward with her eyes closed. “I mean,” Kerr’s face screwed up in thought. “Optis can record and replay things you’ve seen. But you still need to have your eyes open to see anything.”

“Like my monocle, then.” Lusa said.

“Yeah.” Kerr sat up straighter. “I built that, you know.”

Lusa held the towel close to her body so it wouldn’t fall. “It’s very good.” She pulled the other towel from her hair and shook it out. “Nicer than my mom’s visor.”

Kerr flushed a little too hotly at the compliment.

“How did you know we didn’t use cyberware?” Lusa finger combed the tangles from her hair.

Kerr reminded herself not to stare. “Everyone knows Adlets don’t use the same cyberware we do.” Pausing for a moment, she added, “It’s not a religious thing, is it?”

Lusa’s frown looked painful.

“Sorry, I don’t want to be offensive or anything.” Kerr raised her hands apologetically.

“No, it’s okay.” Lusa said. “Not all of us are like that. Two of my moms use the same cyberware you do.”

Kerr took a minute to process. “How many mums do you have?”

Lusa raised three fingers. Her eyes widening, Kerr quickly rearranged her expression, nodding, as if she knew dozens of people with three mums.

“It’s okay,” Lusa blew Kerr’s flimsy ruse away with a tight breath. “Even in the Adlets, it’s kind of strange.”

Kerr wanted to know everything about her family. She stretched out along the sofa, hoping Lusa would read her mind and volunteer the information. She did not. Kerr caved and asked. “Will you tell me about them? Or is that top secret?”

Lusa pulled the towel tighter and sat on the edge of the bed. “Not top secret, no.” She paused, thinking. “Sesi runs the Adlets. When I was a kid, she would always be the one who played rough with us. Let us get away with things and be there with a big hug when we needed it.” Lusa scratched at her wrist. “I once saw her gut someone who tried to pull something and she carried on the rest of the trade deal like nothing happened.” Lusa chose her words carefully. Kerr could tell she was trying very hard not to say too much.

“Callie played with us a lot when we were kids. She’s sweet and kind and always ready to smother you with love. Her and Grandma Cat always listened when we told them stories that went nowhere or brought them a bouquet of weeds.” A smile slowly spread across her face, but she didn’t look at Kerr. “She’s still Pinga’s favourite. I don’t think it’s possible to give Pinga enough attention.”

“But not your favourite?” Kerr settled deeper into the sofa.

“Favourite might not be the best word.” Lusa’s eyes went to the ceiling, like the best words might be hiding up there. “I’m most comfortable with Talia.”

Kerr waited a beat. “What’s she like?”

Lusa took several breaths before responding. “I can’t really describe her with words that make sense. She always seemed to be in the background when we were kids. She was there, but didn’t really engage, you know?” Kerr did not know, but she kept her mouth shut this time.

Lusa swallowed thickly, like she might cry. “My teens were confusing. She got me in a way the other two couldn’t. She’s easier for me to talk with.” Lusa picked at her fingernail. “She had a hard time growing up, too.”

Kerr couldn’t understand how this woman who wore jackets and cut people’s fingers off and looked the way she did could possibly have a hard time growing up. She nodded sympathetically anyway, desperately hoping she would continue.