Chapter Sixty - Emoting

“Emoji, in the form that we readily recognize them as, appeared even before the advent of the internet, though they only really became popular with the standardization of communication systems. Things like Unicode made them somewhat reliable across multiple platforms, and eventually they grew to become a standard part of the modern lexicon.

:)”

--Professor Besters, Lecture on the New English, 2025

***

The evening ended with a much more subdued tone than I was initially expecting it to.

Lucy and I had another turn on the dance floor, this time alongside a few dozen others who were willing to brave Lucy’s stumbling dance moves, and supper was served. It was all terribly fancy stuff that made even the fancy stuff back in the hotel look unfancy by comparison.

Once the dancing was over, and a few political sorts that weren’t Burringham gave some quick speeches, the evening sort of just... wrapped up.

A few of the attendees were drunk enough to need help finding the exit, but other than some raised voices, they didn’t make much of a fuss. The crowd basically just thinned out bit by bit until I glanced at my aug overlay and realized that it was so late that it was almost tomorrow.

Lucy, Gomorrah, Frannie, and I were heading for the entrance when I heard someone call out to us.

Burringham ran over, a big grin on and his cheeks a healthy rosy colour. “Stray Cat, Gomorrah,” he said as he came closer. “I just wanted a quick word, before you take off.”

“Sure,” I said.

His smile, if anything, widened. “I have to thank you both, especially you, Cat.”

“Didn’t you thank me on stage already?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, but there’s something impersonal about that kind of message. It’s all pageantry and show. I meant every word I said, but I feel like the method of delivery robs some of that credibility.” he shook his head. “Sorry. The hour and the day’s events are robbing me of what little eloquence I have.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Lucy said. “You’re still perfectly charming, no matter the hour.”

Burringham laughed. “Thank you. If you’re ever on the lookout for a job, by the way, please avoid politics, for my sake. I prefer it if my competition isn’t better than I am at charming people.”

Lucy giggled and pressed herself closer to my side. “I’ll think about it. Maybe cut you some slack.”

“So, “ I said. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes! Very much so.” He rubbed at his side where I knew the gunshot had been. “There isn’t even a scratch to show for the trouble, and I genuinely feel splendid, like I’ve just woken up from a long night’s rest midway through a vacation and found myself ten years younger. I could get used to feeling this good.”

“It should last a little bit. At least until the nanites die off. But try to avoid getting shot again, I don’t know how much they could do for you then.”

“How are you mentally?” Gomorrah asked.

Burringham took a moment longer to answer that. “I'm a little worried, I’ll be honest. It’s my first assassination attempt. I thought, hoped, that New Montreal politics were a little more chivalrous and decent, but I suppose not. I think I might jump at every loud sound for a while. Also, I’ve developed something of a new appreciation for arachnophobia.”

“Huh?” Frannie asked.

“One of Miss Stray Cat’s healing tools was shaped... uncomfortably,” he explained. “I’m sure she can show you what I mean.”

“Sorry about that, I don’t have a say in that kind of thing,” I said.

You literally do. Though some things are designed to be maximally efficient. How else do you think I’m managing to sneak so many feline references into your equipment?

I chose to ignore Myalis and her weird form of bullying for the moment. “Anyway, it was good working with you, Burringham.”

“Jeff, please,” he said before we shook. “By the way, did you intend to, ah, how can I put this delicately? Dig into the matter of the gunman more than you have?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

Gomorrah shook her head next to me. “It’s not one of our priorities, certainly. Of all the things we could be doing, chasing after assassins who are likely working very hard to hide themselves isn’t high on our list of priorities. We agreed to work with you because you agreed to help save the city. Keeping you safe and alive is convenient at the moment, but... ah, how can I put this delicately?” she mimicked. “You’re still just a smooth talking, charismatic politician.”

“I am all of those things,” Burringham admitted. “But I hope that I’ll be able to help the city, truly.”

“We’ll see,” Gomorrah said. “Come on, Cat.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right with you,” I said. I patted Lucy on the shoulder and nodded towards Gomorrah, and she understood right away, detaching herself from my side to go and chat up Gom and Frannie.

“You wanted to talk?” Burringham asked. We were more or less alone next to the exit, the one helmeted guard standing by the doors facing away from us. The only music playing was some pre-recorded orchestral type stuff, low and slow in the background.

“A bit. Look, I have a lot of hope riding on you, Jeff. I don’t trust political types. I don’t like all of this... pageantry and all this richness. Fuck, I’ve seen enough credits wasted here tonight to get a hundred orphans through college or whatever. I figure that you’re not an ass, you’re just clueless. At least, that’s my more charitable interpretation of shit.”

“I see.”

I nodded. “So, yeah. You want the keys to the city, and that’s fine by me. Just make damned sure you make the place better, alright?”

“I will do my best, I promise,” he said.

I turned, then waved him off over my shoulder. “We’ll see, Burringham. I’ll look into those assassins tomorrow. Got a hunch it might be best to nip that in the bud. Keep in touch, alright?”

Stepping out, I crossed the long entrance corridor, then walked into the open air. I didn’t realize it until just then, but the hall had been a little suffocating. The richness of it, I guessed, the way that everything around me felt both fragile and expensive, it was weird, like being stuck in a wall-less closet. The open air of New Montreal felt much better.

“Cat?” Lucy asked. She stepped up to my side and fit in next to me, like a missing piece that was entirely meant to be there. “You okay?”

“Yeah, lots on my mind.”

“Want to be distracted, or do you want time to think?”

I chuckled. “A distraction wouldn’t hurt,” I admitted.

“Awesome! I was just about to convince Gomorrah and Frannie to go on a double date.”

“Oh?” I asked. “Are they actually, you know, gay-gay?”

Lucy wiggled her hand in the air before her. “Everyone’s a little gay, they both have above-average amounts of gayness.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “Above average gayness. How eloquently put. So is there like, a curve here? A ranking?”

“I was thinking of a sliding chart? Like one of those colourwheels, but flat. You’ve got hella gay on one side.” She gestured between us. “Then moderately gay in the middle.” She gestured to our favourite nuns. “And then you have non-gays at the other end.”

“Does the fact that a flattened colour wheel looks like a rainbow mean anything?” I asked.

“Happy coincidence.”

“I have the impression that your system might not work for everyone,” I said.

She shrugged. “I’m sure I could fit a third dimension in there somewhere. So, double date?”

“Did you actually tell them it was a date?” I asked.

Lucy snapped her fingers. “That’s it. The third dimension can be usefulness.”

“Usefulness?”

“Yeah, they’re both very low on that score. So they don’t need to know that it’s a double date because that would just confuse them even more.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

We reached Gomorrah and Frannie who were waiting next to the Fury. “Lucy convinced us to head out and grab something light to eat,” Gomorrah said.

“I am easily convinced by ice cream,” Frannie added. She leaned back against the car, arms crossed and looking cooler than anyone wearing a nun’s habit should. “It’s my one fault.”

“Your one fault?” Gomorrah asked.

“Keeps me humble."

I laughed. “Alright, ice cream it is,” I said. “I think it’ll make for a nice night cap for us.”

“But then we need to go home, we have kids to look after, you know,” Lucy said.

Frannie turned around. “You two sound so old,” she complained.

***