A Pleasure Model’s Guide to Finding a Real Job (Part I)

Lursula wasn’t in the business of petting kitty cats. She actually loved cats. Which is why she was in the booming business of petting humans. Lursula was made of daggers. Her customers knew that—but they didn’t seem to care about it. To her, a paying customer was never wrong—though that never stopped her from questioning their mental health.

Last night ended up in a ruined dress and a dead regular. He didn’t pay her up front for a death by stabbing, but somehow he had gotten away with it. Maybe she got a little carried away. That didn’t matter. Lursula loved that dress. Replacing it would be an expensive chore.
tumblr_nspt4pXchr1tbxrooo1_500After spending the entire night cruising the OmniBrink for leads on a replacement dress, she finally got around to calling Ymsri’s boys at around 8am. Charlie and Rexxus arrived at her apartment in less than ten minutes.

Charlie took one look at the guy on Lursula’s kitchen floor and shook his head.
“Lursy—we can’t take care of this one. Sorry babe.”
“What—so I’m supposed to keep him?” she replied.
“He’s a Nhevrixian Magistrate.” said Rexxus.
“Fuck. My. Ass.”
“We are not…in the assfucking business.” smiled Charlie.
“Just get this guy out of my apartment.”
“Sorry Lurse-Lurse. No can do.”

It was unusual that Ymsri’s boys wouldn’t take the job. Scrapers weren’t choosy about clean-up work. Gigs like these were their bread and butter. It was unfortunate that the dead Magistrate was a Nhevrixian. If he’d been Olintaj they wouldn’t have batted an eye. The only way to get him out of her apartment now was to report his death to the Nhevrixian embassy in Gjaletek City.

After taking a few photos of the Nhevrixian, Lursula hopped onto the nearest transport into Gjaletek. It was Wednesday—she was losing money by the minute. This wasn’t the life she had planned on. Frustrated, she tried losing herself in the red mountains of rust lining the cityscape.

The transport made a stop in Friesgsten, then Juripthna, and finally Kivturi. At the Kivturi stop an old, fat, though healthy looking man came and sat down next to her.

She tried not to make eye contact. He poked her in the shoulder incessantly for about ten seconds.

“Go sit somewhere else.” She leered.
“Can I ask you something?” he replied.
She tried to ignore him.
“It’s not often that I see an android made for performing surgery dressed as a pleasure     model. Come to think of it—I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone or anything quite like that.”

Lursula put her head into her lap and sighed. “What’s your point?”
“Well—why are you doing that sort of work?”
“Maybe I like it.” She lied.
“I somehow doubt that.” he smiled. “Say…do you want get out of here?”
“I’m busy.”
“That’s not what I mean.” he laughed. “I mean do you want to get out of HERE.”
“Gjaletek?”
He nodded. “Correct.”
“No.”
“You’re lying again.”

The transport stopped. The man got up. And started to dig in he coat pockets for something. She was ready to be taken out of the transport by gunpoint. These types of idiots were always looking for a free ride on the “Fuck Me Harder” express.

“Gum?” he asked while unwrapping a wad.
“I’m all set.”
“I’m just trying to be polite.”
“Well be polite, somewhere else. This conversation is over.”
He shook his head. “I have a little something I want you to have. For when you figure out how to be…honest with yourself.”

He pulled out a small data-chip and pressed it firmly into her hand.

She grabbed his wrist.

“Look you little hemorrhoid, unless you’re going to pay you had better get your fucking hands off me before I rip them right off.”
“I—I—I apologize.” he stammered. He immediately got up from his seat and made his way off of the transport. “Please, if you get a moment.” he said holding his wrist. “Look at that chip. It may be worth your while.”

The doors closed. It was days like these that Lursula wished she had a way to go back to being a surgeon. In those days she didn’t have to think of ways to make a living for herself. In fact, she really didn’t have to think about living at all. Her programming had done all of the heavy lifting. Back then, she had been asleep. Happy and asleep. Well as happy as a mindless android made for surgery could be. She often wondered if it would be possible to go back to bed. And then again, why would she even want that? What use did this sprawling heartless city have for a woman made of knives? It was pretty clear to her that something in her life had to change. Re-purposing herself as a pleasure model was a good short term plan, but it didn’t have any staying power. She needed to find a real job–like yesterday. After all, how else was she going to be able to afford a replacement dress?

Pleasure Model

A Pleasure Model’s Guide to Finding a Real Job (Part I)

Keep Swimming

Excuse me while I do some thinking out loud.

I don’t often say this, but I’ve been sad lately. I don’t mean a depressive–“I want to kill myself” sadness. I’ve just been sad. This probably sounds like an entitled first worlder having the blues over her materialistic life. I could see that. I assure you that it isn’t. I would simply call it–indigestion to change. This year has been a lot to take in–a major surgery, a cross-country move, and a job change. It’s a lot to adjust to. You could say I traded my old life for a new one.

rising

Overall, life is better than it ever has been. I can’t complain. There is still something missing though. In some ways I can identify that that something is independence. I miss New England. There’s nothing quite like being able to walk in the woods alone in the late afternoon. The silence is deafening. Make no mistake, I’ve spent time investigating the desert. I can’t wait until Summer is over. I hear Autumn and Winter are definitely something else from what we have back in New England. I’m looking forward to having my first snowless winter in quite some time.

The skies around Tucson can be gorgeous. There’s something about being able to look up and being able to see the stars. It’s like opening your eyes for the first time. I’ve always lived in areas with a lot of light pollution, clouds–or both. It’s interesting to be able to finally see the stars. I’ve been missing this my entire life.

My musical endeavours could always be better. I’ve been learning a lot of new things from a production stand point, but I’m still having a hard time. I miss having creative people to jam with. I want to get into an actual studio again with an actual band. Being able to produce my own songs at home is great, but it’s extremely self-limiting. I like getting instant “no-bullshit” feedback about the music I write. The Internet isn’t good for that. Sure, you can get instant feedback–but it’s slathered head-to-toe with bullshit.

swimmingI’ve had to let go of a lot of things this year. I still think there are a lot of things I still need to let go of. It’s not enough to simply tread water. I need to jump in and keep swimming.

Keep Swimming