Catalyst

fiction by michael werneburg

"Are you even carrying any kind of weapon? I mean, you're gonna need something. This ferry ride just takes a couple of minutes, but Hirami's going to be on the far side, no matter what. And you know he still doesn't have pics of the first marker."

"Yeah, I know. And no, I'm not 'carrying'. Jesus, I just wanted to finish this thing, get some cash to pay the bills, you know?"

The two kids stared at each other, aghast. "Bills? You're doing this for rent money?" one of them asked. They both laughed, and the other one said, "Man, how lame is that!?"

With that they sauntered off, no doubt aiming to blab about my presence to the Megalomedia crew for their 15 seconds of fame. The kids had no sooner headed astern than I saw the Megalomedia camera drone rising on the far side of the ship, right where I'd been when I'd climbed the stairs. It could only mean that Hirami was coming up to the upper deck. I had to get away.

Unfortunately, there was no set of stairs on this side of the ship; I'd have to go astern at a run, thereby risking drawing more attention than my one-piece grey super-cloth suit attracted, or....

Grabbing the railing, I hauled myself over. The railing was staggered to fit the sloped roof of the lower deck. The horizontal rails formed rungs of a ladder, and I teetered over them in my racing boots. Then, standing on the rim of the short sloped roof below me, I grabbed the last of the rails and lowered a leg. Then I lowered the other one, so that I was hanging down over the roof. Realizing I was risking a broken ankle or worse, I was just reconsidering when I saw Hirami emerge from the stairs. I let go.

And dropped onto many waiting sets of hands, below. With a surprised yelp, I looked around at many smiling men and women. The passengers! What the hell were they doing? There must have been a dozen people holding me up, all smiling up at me in silence. Around them were dozens more. Everybody seemed to know I was on the ship. Why were they helping me?

"It's a brave thing you did," someone said as they set me down. People were shaking my hand and clapping me on the shoulder.

An older gentlemen told me, "We think it's great that you're doing this."

"Right," his female companion told me. "What gives the city the right to host these things here? Explosions and gunfire and damaged property for us, big ratings and promotions and dollars for the guys at the top."

"Thanks, everyone." I took a step or two toward my bike, still a bit unsure how to handle the attention and support. I wobbled a bit.

"Hirami's up there, isn't he?" a woman to my right said, solemnly.

"Yup," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Dangerous motherfucker," someone observed. Big guy in a white shirt and a baseball cap.

I nodded my agreement. "Stay out of his way," I suggested.