Vicksburg low town is a lusty, evil place, as swarmingly alive as a dunghill. In daylight city police travel in pairs; at night they leave the place alone. It is a city of gnifters, whores, smugglers, pushers, drug wholesalers, spivs, pimps, hire hatchets, military mercenaries, recruiters, fences, fagins, beggars, clandestine surgeons, blackbirders, glimjacks, outstanders, short con, long con, sting riggers, girlboys, you name it, they sell it in Vicksburg low town. It’s a wonderful place and be sure to get a blood test afterward.
It is the only place I know of where a living artifact, marked by his design (four arms, no legs, eyes in the back of his skull, whatever) can step (or slither) up to a bar, buy a beer, and have absolutely no special attention paid to him or his oddity. As for my sort, being artificial meant nothing-not in a community where 95 percent of the residents did not dare step onto an escalator leading to the upper city.
I was tempted to stay there. There was something so warm and friendly about all these outcasts, no one of whom would ever point a finger of scorn. Had it not been for Boss on one hand and Georges and the memory of places that smelled better on the other hand, I might have stayed in (lower) Vicksburg and found a scam that suited my talents.
“But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.” Master Robert Frost knew why a person keeps on going when she would rather stop. Dressed as if I were a soldier out of work and shopping for the best recruiting deal, I frequented river town listening for a riverboat skipper willing to smuggle live cargo. I had been disappointed to learn how little traffic there was on the river. No news was coming out of the Imperium and no boats were coming down the river, so very few skippers were willing to risk going upriver.
So I sat in bars in river town, drinking small beer and letting the word filter around that I was prepared to pay a worthwhile price for a ticket up the river.
I considered advertising. I had been following the Opportunity Ads, which were considerably more outspoken than those I had noticed in California-apparently anything was tolerated as long as it was limited to low town:
Do You Hate Your Family?
Are You Frustrated, Tied Down, Boned?
Is Your Husband/Wife a Waste of Space?
LET US MAKE A NEW (WO)MAN OF YOU!!!!!
Plasticizing-Reorientation-Relocating Transsexualizing-Discreet Wet Work
Consult Doc Frank Frankenstein
Softly Sam’s Bar Grill
This was the first time I’d ever seen murder for pay blatantly advertised. Or did I misunderstand it?
Do You Have a PROBLEM? Nothing is illegal-it isn’t what you do; it’s the way that you do
it. We have the most skilled shystens in the Lone Star State.
LOOPHOLES, Inc.
(Special Rates to Bachelors)
Punch LEV 10101
With the above it helped to know that “LEV” call codes were assigned only to locations under the bluff.
Artists, Ltd.
Documents of All Sorts, Negotiable Instruments, Money Of All Nations, Diplomas, Birth Certificates, IDs, Passports, Photognaphs, Business Licenses, Marriage Licenses, Credit
Cands, Holograms, Audio/Video Tapes, Commissions, Pardons, Wills, Seals, Fingerprints-All Work Guananteed with warnanty underwritten by Lloyd’s Associates-LEV 10111
Certainly all of the above services were available in any large city but they were rarely openly advertised. As for the warranty, I simply did not believe it.
I decided not to advertise my need because of doubt that anything so public could help in a matter essentially clandestine-I went on relying on chandlers and barkeeps and madams. But I continued to watch the ads on the chance of spotting something of use to me. and came across one probably not of use but decidedly of interest. I froze it and called it to Georges’ attention:
W.K.-Make your will. You have
only ten days to live.
A.C.B.
“What about it, Georges?”
“The first one we saw gave W.K. only a week. More than a week has passed and he now has ten days. If this keeps up, W.K. will die of old age.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No, my love, I do not. It’s a code.”