The Langley Case: A Nathan Roeder Mystery
Chapter 7

Winning the Lottery and Hating it

My name is Felicia Serano, and I was supposed to be a hooker. My parents were both very beautiful people, and neither one of them was very smart. They scored so poorly on the aptitude tests that it was determined there was no need to make me stupid. Which was good, because they, and their employer, didn’t want to pay for anything more than they had to.

I don’t know if I’m mad about it, to be honest with you. I never knew anything other than what I was born with, so it’s not like I can miss leaving my body up to the genetic lottery. And some of the things they did are really beneficial. I have a higher tolerance to illness and disease than most people. I’ve always been athletic, and never had to watch what I ate to keep my figure. My hair has always been perfect and lustrous. My skin has always been perfect. The other kids I saw when I was growing up couldn’t hold a candle to me. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The heightened libido didn’t help much, though. I hit puberty at seven, and lost my virginity at nine. And it couldn’t have come soon enough.

I guess I do resent them a little. I never really got to play with other children; I didn’t go to school. They figured I didn’t need to. I was bred to be a hooker. What does a hooker need to know?

Trouble is, deep down in my parent’s genetic codes were tiny little suggestions of intelligence. The most minute chance, the ultimate lottery win.

I guess I would have been okay with it all if I was as stupid as they’d wanted me to be. I could have let my libido control me, and just fucked and fucked until the day I finally died, exhausted from all the sex, having made the people I worked for a lot of money.

As it stands, I hated all of it.

That’s why I ran away.

The life of a hooker didn’t agree with me. I wanted more. I wanted out of the Sprawl. That, at least, was something my parents had been kind enough to do for me. With the genetic alterations, I wasn’t a natborn. I could leave the Sprawl. My blood would test as disease free, and anyone looking at me would know that I wasn’t a result of the lottery. My kind of beauty, apparently, is beyond that.

I never really thought of myself as that beautiful. Probably because I grew up around a bunch of other girls like me. A bunch of other hookers. That’s how I know about the fucking and fucking without a thought. I’ve seen it.

I wasn’t going to live that way. I wanted to get out, get an education, and maybe find a way to get some of those Telomerey pills. I know they can only do so much if you’re not born to them, but they might give me an extra couple of decades. And that’s not bad. I haven’t wasted too much time. I’m not that old.

The trouble was, I had no skills. I had nothing whatsoever that I could do, except hooking. And the idea was to get out of that line of work.

I’m no dummy. I can learn a lot of things pretty easily, given the opportunity. I could give myself a full education if I had access to the Net. Once I had that, I could get to Town without trouble.

Problem. Can’t get to Town without an education. Can’t get an education while hiding in the Sprawl.

Solution? Nathan Roeder.

When I met him, I’d already been on the run for about six months. I’d picked up a little bit of skill, and had certainly become a bit accomplished as a thief. I would fuck some poor schmuck, and take money and jewelry from him when he was sleeping. I should have taken wedding rings, but there was no reason to add insult to injury.

I thought about getting someone to just put me up for a while. I could trade sex for food, shelter, and a Net connection. That would solve the problem; but it would also make it that much easier for The Albino to find me.

Eventually, it was a risk I had to take. I was more in The Bicycle Man’s territory at that point anyway. The Albino wouldn’t send any of his own people in. That might start a war. I wonder if my parents would have thought of something like that.

The guy I settled on was a sleaze ball. A jerk. But a rich jerk. I’d keep him laid, he’d keep me fed. It was a deal I didn’t love, but at the time, it was all I knew how to do. So I let him keep me at an apartment, so his wife never found out about me. Most of the time, he was either at work or at home, so I had a whole lot of time by myself.

Time I could spend on the Net. Learning everything from history to economics. Which are surprisingly similar.

I figured that after a few months, I’d know enough to test into a decent job in Town, and up I’d go. I’d be moving up, out of there.

Nathan Roeder, though, screwed up all those plans. But I guess it’s not all bad. Assuming he gets me out of my current predicament, it might work out. He’s cute, he doesn’t treat me like a hooker, and, if he manages to get me out of The Albino’s club, then I have to believe that he feels more for me than just lust.

I didn’t think he did when we first met. He’d apparently been looking for me for just a few hours. He wasn’t one of the Albino’s people, but he was definitely nervous being so close to The Bicycle Man. I didn’t understand why until the shooting started.

When he found me, I was probably about two weeks away from being able to get a job in Town. He told me that I had to come with him, and I misunderstood him. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. The John I was with wasn’t much in the sack, and it had been a while since I’d had a clear head. Another thing to thank my parents for.

I looked Nathan up and down, and was immediately struck by how attractive he was. He looked like he was in good shape; well fed. He looked like—he looked like he lived in Town.

So when he said I had to come with him, I thought he was my prince, coming to rescue me and take me out of the dank hell that is the Sprawl, and up to his kingdom among the tall spires. Maybe I’d get to see the Tiers some day, I thought. Maybe He would take me there, even if just for a little while.

“We have to hurry,” said a man traveling with Nathan. I hadn’t noticed the little guy before that. He was a natborn, I could tell. It wasn’t that he was ugly. It wasn’t that he was too skinny. It was just, put next to Nathan, all the genetic flaws just jutted out at me. The crooked nose, the way his eyes were too far apart. The fact that one of them was lazy. The splotchy growth of facial hair. Nathan had none of those things. Comparably, Nathan was an Adonis.

Nathan didn’t say a word to the man, just nodded and took my hand. “Is there anything you need to take with you?” He asked.

I shook my head. There were some outfits my John had deemed ‘sexy’, but I wasn’t impressed with his creativity any more than I was impressed with his skills –or stamina—in the sack. I was wearing comfortable clothes, and comfortable shoes. I didn’t need anything else.

We walked down the stairs, and the little man went outside first. He walked across the street, then turned around to wave us to him. We stepped outside, took a few steps towards a car.

And that’s when the shooting started.

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