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by Marcie Lynn Tentchoff
Fantasy, 9 pages.
Originally Published in Mindflights, 2009
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Haris was processing the day’s receipts when the kid walked into the store. Her yellow hair fell in greasy tendrils to tangle in the belt of tattered black jeans. Her t-shirt was covered with posies of pink elephants. Haris figured her to be around twelve years old, a typical street brat, not even wired or enhanced as far as he could tell. He smiled wryly, doubting that she had enough plastic on her for so much as a nouveau goldfish, let alone the kind of creatures his store had in stock. Animals like these were for the privileged, for the folks who had the big money and wanted to show it off.
Still, you never knew. The grunge look was back in style this year. She could be richer than she looked. And anyway, it had been a slow day. A bit boring. He plastered a more professional smile onto his face and gestured round at the force cages, each one boasting some exotic beastie that frolicked or languished in its own holographically replicated environment. “Feel free to look ‘round. If you need help, ask.”
She smiled back at him, a sweet, shy, honest little smile, not darkened by the streaks of grime on her face. “Thanks.” Her grey eyes slid swiftly away from his, drawn toward the cages.
She drifted for a time while Haris worked over his computer interface, making sure that each of the animals had been fed and watered, and made as comfortable and showy as possible. Sometimes he’d glance up to see her lingering by one cage or another, reading the info data which flashed above them, or simply staring, awed, at the wondrous creature within. He saw her draw back from the sight of the strebgoose’s suddenly extended steeline claws, laugh at the calerian’s nine-limbed tumbling display, and smile as the trylig’s ear tentacle shot through the specially constructed force slots to tickle her under her chin.
In front of each cage she lingered, seeming to concentrate for a while. But each, in the end, received a small, disappointed head shake. Then, slowly, steadily, she’d move on to the next.
It was getting close to closing time. All up and down the street store lights were dimming, hinting politely that any customers should swiftly make their decisions, their purchases, and their departures. Through the security holos Haris watched as slicker-clad people started their homewards scurries through the warm rain. He watched one store close, then another, their flickering blue force screens brightening as each shopkeeper engaged the night time defences.
The lights dimmed another notch. Sighing, Haris turned his gaze away from the holos and hit the manual override.
The kid had pretty well finished her tour of the store. She stood, paused in front of a rack of collars and leashes, her mouth curled in a disdainful sneer. For a moment Haris wondered if such accessories were the true reason behind her visit. But no, she didn’t look like one of the leather and chain set.
He cleared his throat. “Lookin’ fer somthin’ special?”
She nodded, a small, abrupt jerk of her chin. “Yes.”
Haris waited, giving her time to continue, to explain.
Silence. She bent suddenly, intently studying a small creature she’d looked at once before. Haris heard her sigh as she straightened.
He narrowed his eyes briefly, then winced as he saw the time on the old-fashioned clock that appeared, overlaying his vision of the room. Darn. He’d never make it home in time for his favourite entertainment show.
“Look.” Again he cleared his throat. “I think you’ve seen ‘em all. All the critter’s I’ve got.” His hand inched longingly towards his dull grey slicker.
The kid turned slowly toward him. Her grey eyes locked on his. “All?”
So plaintive. So bloody despairing.
He swallowed. “Well, not all. Not quite.” Why had he said that? The new orders hadn’t even been processed yet. The holo boy wouldn’t be in till tomorrow. The new animals were still sitting in their own filth in unholoed cages at the back of the store.
But the kid looked so desperate.
Resignedly, he dropped his coat and unplugged himself from the computer. “There’re a few new ‘uns in back. Follow me.” He fumbled with the old fashioned palm lock on the storage room. Outdated piece of junk. He’d have to get that replaced. “Just don’t expect fancy. Like I said, these’uns are new.”
He mumbled briefly to the sound pickup, and light flooded the front of the room, illuminating the five plain shipping cages.
Behind him, Haris heard the kid gasp. She brushed past him, pressing her hands, her face, flat against the gently flexing force wall of the closest cage.
He had to grin at her enthusiasm. “It’s a dragon.”
She nodded, her eyes still rivited on the beast inside the force field. “I know.” Slowly, gently her hand stroked down and across the cage, outlining the shape of the creature within it. “It’s magic.”
Ha -- [End of Preview.]