‘Stop fooling and hand it over.’
‘Only if you tell me you got it.’
‘Only if you tell me what’s in the bag.’
‘Ah. Seems we’re stalemated.’ He waggles the joint. I ignore it, nudge the neoprene with my foot. Then I look up at him coyly through my lashes. This is an old game we play, practically choreographed.
‘What do you think?’
He tackles me, knocking me back onto the bed and pinning my arms above my head. ‘You incredible woman.’ He moves as if to kiss me, trying his luck as if the final play wasn’t already pre-determined, and I twist my head away and take a drag from the joint still pincered between his fingers instead. He mock-sighs and lets up. ‘You used to be so much fun.’
‘And you used to be not such a drugged-out freak. Put that away. And put some clothes on. I assume you brought clothes?’
He gets sulky and crouches down beside his pack, turning his back on me. As he starts unzipping the bag, it jolts and struggles. A scrimmage ensues.
‘Shit!’ Toby falls backwards onto his ass as a VIMbot shoots across the room and under my bed. I yelp and pull my feet up, laughing. ‘Toby! What was that?’
‘My new friend. I liberated him.’
‘How do you know it’s a him?’
‘I would never have gone for a female. Too troublesome.’
I stick my head over the edge of the bed. The VIMbot is already at work, rustling the dust bunnies.
‘Tobe. I can’t help but notice that this particular VIMbot appears to have the Communique logo on it.’
‘Yeah, like I said, I liberated him. Just like I’m gonna liberate you one day: storm into the cursed citadel, slay the vile monsters or, you know, Jane, and carry you off.’
‘To your shitty swivel with the rest of civilian humanity.’
‘Hey, don’t knock the swivel. I get a view at least a fifth of the time.’
‘And motion-sick the rest.’ His rotating apartment, designed to maximise space, makes me dizzy.
‘I like the revolving. It’s like being on a ride. All the time.’
‘Thanks for the offer, the noble knighthood thing. But I’ll pass.’
‘Okay, you wanted to know my motivation? It’s revenge.’
‘Oh. Right. I see. You kidnapped a VIMbot because you resent Communique’s security policies?’
‘Not just Communique, Lerato. Every corporation! Let every multinational conglom quake in fear, for the people have spoken! Dredge humanity is banding together, taking a stand for freedom, truth, equality – and the right to buy Fong Kong brands.’
‘A noble cause indeed. But I’m not buying the whole Fong Kong cheap rip-off pledge, considering you’re wearing a thirty grand BabyStrange chamo coat. Please.’
‘Okay, all right. I needed some help in my apartment. It’s a mess. And this little guy… I just know he wants to help out.’
‘All right, all right. I concede. You can have the damn thing. But let me neuter the little bugger first. Pass it here.’
Toby scrabbles under the bed and yanks out the bot, which is buzzing hysterically, desperate to get back to vacuuming. They’re pretty dense. You can’t interrupt them mid-task. He hands it to me, and I snap out my toolkit and unscrew the faceplate underneath it. It takes less than ten seconds to over-ride the GPS tracking program and the homing instinct. It’s not like a cleaning bot is exactly a priority.
‘What about the vocal responses? You want ’em?’ I ask Toby, who is now pulling on his jeans.
‘What does it say?’
I click through the options. Even less than you’d expect. It’s such a simple piece of tech and they’re not expected to last long, so they’re pretty limited. ‘Error, please try again,’ it chirps mechanically. ‘Property of Communique Inc.,’ and, lastly, a really cute ‘All clean.’
‘Mal,’ Toby says, so I leave the vocals operative and hand over the bug, which is now sitting quietly on best behaviour.
‘Oh, crap, speaking of my BabyStrange, know anyone who might be keen to buy it? My parents cut me off. Again.’
‘Is that your way of asking for a loan? Least you have parents, big boy.’
‘Is that your way of turning me down? Aw, poor little orphan girl in her subsidised
beachfront corp apartment and cushy job.’
‘You are such an ass.’
‘That’s still a no, then?’
‘I have an idea. I know it’s out there. Why don’t you try working for a living?’
‘I would, but my allergies. No, okay, I’ve got something hooked up with a games merchant, but it’s been a while since I played with a joystick. Well, apart from this one.’ He touches his crotch. ‘Point is it’s gonna take a couple of days for anything to come through.’
‘This is only because I pity you and your delusions of splendour,’ I sigh, pointing my phone in the general vicinity of the item in question, but really at his phone. ‘Check your account. I’ve transferred 5k for you. Which I expect back, Toby. Seriously.’
‘Truly, you are a generous corporate bitchmonkey,’ he says, putting his hands together and bowing. I throw a pillow at him.
‘Oh, and still on the subject of the BabyStrange. Now that you’ve saved it and, not uncoincidentally, my streamcasting career, I’ve got something to show you.’
He plays back a weird mash of some almost bar fight, which ends tediously and predictably in a defusing. It’s not overly interesting, until he points out the big guy with the dreads, his would-be revolutionary friend.
‘Is that where you’re getting all the political doggerel?’
‘Yeah. Along with the winning phrase “corporate bitchmonkey.” We’re having a protest party. It’s the new theme night at Replica. Insurrection Saturdays. Awesome DJ playing.’
‘You, you mean?
‘You should come. It’s going to be toyota. I can comp your phone, plus one, if you want.’
‘Toby. You know I can’t attend those sorts of things.’
‘Not even to show solidarity with your generation? Okay, okay, chill. It’s just a bash. No one actually gives a shit about protesting against the system, except Tendeka maybe. But I did want to ask if you wanted to make a contribution.’
‘What kind of contribution?’
‘My beauty, your genius? The perfect pairing.’
‘I can’t do this guy’s phone if that’s what you’re asking, especially not if he’s just been defused.’
‘So, what about switching off the security on an adboard? I can get you the exact GPS. It’s just temporary.’
‘Oh. I don’t know. What’s temporary?’
‘Long enough.’
‘For?’
‘A little outlaw smear campaign.’
‘What would you do if you didn’t know me, Toby?’
‘I’m sure the world would be hugely improved.’
‘Whose board is it?’
Toby sucks intently on the joint, all the better to avoid meeting my eye. ‘Fuck knows. I don’t keep track.’
‘Well, where is it?’
‘N2, near Roodebloem Road. Smack in the middle of the highway.’
‘You know that’s a Communique board.’
‘Your employers would disapprove terribly.’
‘It’s a serious offence, Toby.’
‘Worse than the tamper job you just did on this little guy?’
‘Oh, please. That’s the equivalent of stealing stationery. Aiding and abetting a hack job on corporate property? That’s a whole other category. That’s goodbye plush apartment and cushy job. Firing offence, no written warning required.’ I have to feed him the lines, cover up the snap of excitement. It’s like finding the wall blocking your way in a dead-end alley is only made of cardboard, that you can push right through it. I know exactly how to use this.
‘You could have just come out with “no”,’ says Toby, pulling his shirt over his head. It clings to the damp on his back, so he is all elbows tangled in rumpled cotton.