Old horror movies, tentacle porn, crappy kung-fu
epics. So now they all bow to me."
"That's great," Alan said. "And Kurt tells me you've been doing amazing
work with him, too."
"Oh, that's just fun," she said. "I went along on a couple of dumpster
runs with the gang. I found the most amazing cosmetics baskets at the
Shiseido dumpster. Never would have thought that I'd go in for that
girly stuff, but when you get it for free out of the trash, it feels
pretty macha. Smell," she said, tilting her head and stretching her
neck.
He sniffed cautiously. "Very macha," he said. He realized that the other
patrons in the shop were eyeballing him, a middle-aged man, with his
face buried in this alterna-girl's throat.
He remembered suddenly that he still hadn't put in a call to get her a
job somewhere else, and was smitten with guilt. "Hey," he said. "Damn. I
was supposed to call Tropic??l and see about getting you a job. I'll do
it right away." He pulled a little steno pad out of his pocket and
started jotting down a note to himself.
She put her hand out. "Oh, that's okay," she said. "I really like this
job. I've been looking up all my old high school friends: You were
right, everyone I ever knew has an account with Martian Signal. God, you
should *see* the movies they rent."
"You keep that on file, huh?"
"Sure, everything.
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