05-25-2025, 02:27 AM
A scan to the left and the right found only lonely people. Solitary figures drifting through synthetic haze and cheap neon, their shadows stretching long across puddled concrete. A single snowflake, backlit by crimson signage, tumbled down like a fleck of red cotton. Jay watched it land on the road and dissolve into the city’s filth. Beauty gone before it could mean anything.
He turned the foil packet over in his gloved hands. Branded with a crescent moon and soft lettering that promised soothing, fast-acting relief, it looked more like something you’d slide across a nightstand than a pharmaceutical solution. It reminded him of a condom, honestly. Same shape, same discreet hope for something empty. But inside was a thin, dissolvable strip, mint-scented and synthetic.
A rip of the foil, and Jay laid the paper on his tongue and immediately grimaced. The taste was sharp, chemical, laced with artificial sweetness that left a burn in the back of his throat. He started walking.
Half a block later a surge of neon light exploded to his left, catching the periphery of his vision. He turned, instinctively, and found himself face to face with a full-body hologram. Looping a slow, seductive sway. A digital woman shimmered in pasties and a g-string, rendered in that translucent blue-white glow that somehow made her more real than any of the people passing by. Her eyes, perfect and impossible, werelocked with his, and Jay paused, caught like a deer in high beams. The movement of her hand, curl of her tongue, and bend of the waist were beckoning, smooth and slow, like honey caught in a jar.
He blinked hard, shook his head, and turned away with a muttered breath. Fuck me. Here he was, doing street meds and making eye contact with walking adspace like a proper creep. The flush that rose in his face had nothing to do with her.
There was a far hotter woman waiting for him, and that warmth scared him more than any holographic seductress ever could.
As the drugged paper began to dissolve, he became acutely aware of the minty vapor curling down his throat, spreading coolness through his chest. His hand ached less. That dull, angry throb began to slip beneath the surface. But what he hadn’t expected was the emptiness that followed, not sedation, not really, but a slight lightening in his thoughts. A numbing of friction.
Still, he didn’t walk straight home.
He took a side street. Then another. Skirting alleys and footpaths he didn’t need to take, winding like a man circling a fire, not ready to step into the heat. Natalie was close. He could feel the pull of her, the tug of her arms, her apartment, the half-dimmed lights and too-soft bedding. She was everything he wanted. So what the hell was he doing?
The further he walked, the quieter things became. Not fully quiet. This was the middle of Moscow, after all, but even the noise of the nearby Carnival faded into a low hum behind him, replaced by the soft crunch of his boots on old snow and the occasional electric flicker from signage overhead. The Red Light District thinned here. Not of danger, but of spectacle. Less neon, more shadow. Less invitation, more forgetting.
There were plenty of people around, but it was cold and an unpleasant night. Hoods were up and paces were quick. Seeing someone standing still gave him a pause only for the oddity of it.
A man at the edge of the riverwalk, bundled in black, posture hunched against the cold. At first, just a silhouette. Another lifer out in the cold night, waiting for nothing.
Jay almost passed him without a second glance. But something snagged in the corner of his mind. Despite every instinct not to, he stopped.
He turned the foil packet over in his gloved hands. Branded with a crescent moon and soft lettering that promised soothing, fast-acting relief, it looked more like something you’d slide across a nightstand than a pharmaceutical solution. It reminded him of a condom, honestly. Same shape, same discreet hope for something empty. But inside was a thin, dissolvable strip, mint-scented and synthetic.
A rip of the foil, and Jay laid the paper on his tongue and immediately grimaced. The taste was sharp, chemical, laced with artificial sweetness that left a burn in the back of his throat. He started walking.
Half a block later a surge of neon light exploded to his left, catching the periphery of his vision. He turned, instinctively, and found himself face to face with a full-body hologram. Looping a slow, seductive sway. A digital woman shimmered in pasties and a g-string, rendered in that translucent blue-white glow that somehow made her more real than any of the people passing by. Her eyes, perfect and impossible, werelocked with his, and Jay paused, caught like a deer in high beams. The movement of her hand, curl of her tongue, and bend of the waist were beckoning, smooth and slow, like honey caught in a jar.
He blinked hard, shook his head, and turned away with a muttered breath. Fuck me. Here he was, doing street meds and making eye contact with walking adspace like a proper creep. The flush that rose in his face had nothing to do with her.
There was a far hotter woman waiting for him, and that warmth scared him more than any holographic seductress ever could.
As the drugged paper began to dissolve, he became acutely aware of the minty vapor curling down his throat, spreading coolness through his chest. His hand ached less. That dull, angry throb began to slip beneath the surface. But what he hadn’t expected was the emptiness that followed, not sedation, not really, but a slight lightening in his thoughts. A numbing of friction.
Still, he didn’t walk straight home.
He took a side street. Then another. Skirting alleys and footpaths he didn’t need to take, winding like a man circling a fire, not ready to step into the heat. Natalie was close. He could feel the pull of her, the tug of her arms, her apartment, the half-dimmed lights and too-soft bedding. She was everything he wanted. So what the hell was he doing?
The further he walked, the quieter things became. Not fully quiet. This was the middle of Moscow, after all, but even the noise of the nearby Carnival faded into a low hum behind him, replaced by the soft crunch of his boots on old snow and the occasional electric flicker from signage overhead. The Red Light District thinned here. Not of danger, but of spectacle. Less neon, more shadow. Less invitation, more forgetting.
There were plenty of people around, but it was cold and an unpleasant night. Hoods were up and paces were quick. Seeing someone standing still gave him a pause only for the oddity of it.
A man at the edge of the riverwalk, bundled in black, posture hunched against the cold. At first, just a silhouette. Another lifer out in the cold night, waiting for nothing.
Jay almost passed him without a second glance. But something snagged in the corner of his mind. Despite every instinct not to, he stopped.
Only darkness shows you the light.