Snarky
Busted AC unit. Sweat soaked through my one good shirt. Keeps my back from sticking to the chair. Getting it fixed will depend on two things: if my money is still good here and if they'll deal with humans. I'm guessing the answer will be "no" to the later.
I’ve been on Rex 9 for the past three years, or is thirteen, some days I can't tell. I came here chasing a lead B my own sister. She left ghosts here, ghosts that came calling back home. They had guns and they killed her child, her husband. I was off world, that world being Earth's Moon, now dubbed Luna for colonization purposes. I guess saying you lived on the Moon, made it sound more like a hunk of rock than a home.
Rex 9 is a hunk of rock, past Pluto and before Andromeda. I never paid much attention to star charts, mostly just what liner went where and how much money I had to loose. Back on Luna, my badge meant something B to some people. Here on Rex 9 I could pawn it, might buy me food for a week. On this planet being a private eye doesn't mean squat, after all they have Trackers here. Five man teams of the native race, reptillian in appearance they go by the name Ophidian. They hunt down any law breakers with a relish and ruthlessness Luna reserved for serial killers. Different strokes for different folks.
Why am I still here?
Certainly not family. Bridget only left clues, but she forgot to leave me cash.
Friends? If I;m lucky my old partner might write back every six months - each time promising to come by and get me off this rock. Did I mention that was 3 years ago?
Cash? I have enough to buy passage off, but not to where I need to go. Trouble is saving all depends on steady work, and on Rex 9 that depends on who can move beyond their xenophobia and knock on my door.
So right now, I stay as a novelty act. You could say I'm waiting for the big pay off, and then zoom off to the stars.
Sweat dribbles onto the paper.
Oh hell, I got to get this AC fixed.
Copyright 2006 @ Brad DeMaagd
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