I answered the advert in the paper that said “Looking for single female, no attachments, for job requiring extensive traveling.”
The address on the advert took me to a dingy part of town. Having just graduated from university, I had the belief that i was invincible so I wasn’t too scared. It helped that I also knew nichak and that i had once beat down a six-foot gorg in a pick-up fight on campus.
“Kuang-Ning Bjornsdottir” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here about the advert.”
“Right” she answered in heavily accented Chinglish. “Down that hallway, last door on your left.” I went.
The door opened inward, and as I stepped in, I felt a tingle down my spine, like something was off. It’s not a spidersense exactly, but many times I’ve been on the receiving end of a whack for ignoring it. My gut tensed up, and I sank maybe an inch lower as I centered myself. Good thing, too.
Three spikes hit the wall behind me, roughly where hy head would have been if I hadn’t assumed the position. I was like, wtf?!
I collapsed my left knee and rolled off to the side. In the periphery of my hearing, I heard the dull thuds of more spikes embedding themselves into the floor where i had been half a second earlier. Sonuvabitch.
I pulled out my portable and slid it across the floor away from me. The screen lit up and in the faint glow, I saw boots. Girly boots. From the floor, I heave my satchel up to where her head would be – assuming she was proportioned the same as me, which was a big assumption considering how weird things had gotten in the last ten years or so. Luckily, this one was a real girl and my satchel hit pretty much where I wanted it too. Hah. It figures that a heavy purse would have some use after all.
I hear her grunt, and that was pretty much all I needed. I tackled her and after a few fancy nichak moves, I had my arm crooked around her neck and my knee up against her hamstring. “You’re hired,” she wheezed. “Bitch.”
Filed under: new age, Rong-Nu, stories, fiction, Rong-Nu, satellites, science, science fiction, space


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