Adam J Smith [Smith - Tides of Hysteria

Tides of Hysteria

The Neon City Trilogy

By

Adam J Smith

Neon City trilogy 2/3

Neon series 5/9

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Copyright 2019 Adam J Smith

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Everything is connected

Illiam

Im so sorry, Illiam overheard his mother say. She was cooking his dinner with the videolink active on the refrigerator door, and it smelled like crispy chicken done in the oven. I cant believe youre caught up in this.

He didnt pay that much attention, mother was always chatting with one of her sisters as though the world was going to end, his father said They just cant leave a stone unturned in the quest for gossip. His favourite show was on. Metal Maniac , hoovering the streets with guns of justice; an ex-cop gone rogue, doing what he must to keep the city safe. Illiam smiled as the opening theme began.

So what are the options? His mother said loudly, pans clattering. He looked frustratingly across to the brightly lit kitchen area, the window beyond opaque to the city. The noise was nothing new, just annoying and louder than usual. He turned the volume up.

We have an appointment in two weeks at the clinic, he heard aunt Florence say. Theres nothing really to decide seeing as how all the orphanages are empty, not a damn child in the whole damn city without a home. If wed only thought to check before. But no, Jon was like Itll happen, just gotta keep on trying. Of course hed say that why wouldnt he? Even tried the orphanages belowground I dont care, I aint got no privileged stick up my ass but even there all the kids have been snapped up. Theres some whores selling their wombs they come with a certificate and everything, signed and stamped that they aint infertile. For sure, theres some ladies lettin their man fuck em to get em pregnant. Gettin weekend passes to go down to low town, while we what? fuck off to Chinatown? Get some gigolo action from central? Oh, Id like to see Jons face then! His aunt was so loud she drowned out the shows music.

He wanted to pay for a womb?

Not in so much as said it, but you know, you just know thats what the mand prefer, yeah. Rather than allow someone else touch my body.

Aint that a better option? I mean, when you think about it. If theres no way you can adopt, then its either a surrogate or surgery, and surgery may be dangerous.

And have some whoreface looking up at me as I feed them? You dont understand, May, you have Illiam. You have your family. I dont want some imposter blood. I didnt even really wanna adopt. I want Jons baby. I want it to be ours .

Of course I get it I wouldnt wish this infertility on anyone. Were blessed.

He looked away from the screen and saw his mother watching him through the shelves, eyes peering between stacked plates and bowls.

We are truly blessed, his mother continued. Theres no other feeling like it.

It made him feel weird; he knew she was talking about him, but he didnt feel like anything special. He was just a normal boy in a normal home going to a normal school.

Okay you can stop rubbing my nose in it now, said aunt Florence. I call up for some sympathy and all I get is me, me, me.

Im me, me, me? His mother turned back to the viewscreen and laughed. Youre a leech, you know that? All poor little old me . His aunt had struck and the snake had bit. Another one of his fathers sayings.

Oh, get to the pits where you belong, snapped aunt Florence. The viewscreen turned black.

Bye! shouted his mother.

He turned back to the show, ears ringing in the sudden silence. That didnt last long. He could tell she was angry now pans clattered with more shrillness, cups werent placed but slammed, doors werent closed but banged. When the food was ready she brought it over, putting the plate down in front of him on the coffee table. The dining table sat against the opposite wall, forever inset.

Was I too harsh?

He looked up at her and smiled. Thick black hair curled tightly down to her shoulders, a proud globe of a perm. Brown lips smiled back. I dont know, he shrugged. Thanks for tea. He picked up a knife and fork and tucked in.

I get so annoyed sometimes, she slumped into her chair, a coffee cupped between two hands.

It sounded like aunt Florence was saying mean things. All that came back to him were the bad words that he could only say in his head, and even then it made him feel naughty. Like whore and fuck.

You shouldnt listen to her when shes talking like that. I should know better, myself. Shes a bad influence.

I didnt mean to.

Its not your fault, sweetie. She leaned forward and pushed her hand through his thick hair, scratching at his scalp. Then she pulled him towards her, just as he was about to put a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

Mum! he groaned.

I love you, she said, giving him a hug and a kiss.

Yeah, yeah.

She released him, falling back into her chair.

The metal maniacs shoulder plates retracted and homing missiles ejected.

I was harsh. I didnt mean to gloat. I am so lucky; I didnt think to rub it in her face. I just didnt think. His mother turned to the window and activated the videolink service. Ill tell her Im sorry.

Illiam groaned and picked up the pad and took it with him to his bedroom, plate in his other hand. He dropped onto his bed and propped the pad against the headboard, resting his head in his hands. Every now and then he grabbed a chicken piece and stuffed his face. He was always stuffing his face, his father said. It was a wonder there was any food left in the apartment.

Hes a growing boy, argued his mother.

That he is, said his father.

He was glad that was about as bad as the arguments got. The way his aunties talked, they were always arguing with his uncles, and when they had parties there was always a fight. A few hugs after everyone always made up. Always some drama, though, enough to send a man crazy.

He wished his father was home more.

He was always working these days.

Things were bad out there, hed say at night, through the crack of the open bedroom door. Thats if he even came home. Some nights he was out all night, Illiam falling asleep without the kiss and goodnight he tried so hard to stay up for. His father would come home just as he was having breakfast, or about to leave for school.

His mother hugging his father long and tight, her head against his chest.

Then it was his turn. The smell of sweat and a million other things on his fathers jacket. The piece pressing like a stone in his shoes against his shoulder. Always afraid that if his father squeezed too tight the piece would go off.

It never did. And never would, he was assured. Something called the safety was always on.

Dad, are you a metal maniac? hed asked once.

Less of the metal, less of the maniac. What a curious title. Is he meant to be the good guy?

He cleans up the streets with rockets for arms and lasers for eyes.

Well I dont have rockets for arms or lasers for eyes but some of the bad guys do.

They do?

Henry, said his mother, voice stern.

Our rockets and lasers are even bigger. Its not good being a bad guy with me around. His father grinned and then proceeded to tickle him.