by David Castlewitz
“Holotatoon” first appeared in Encounters – May-June 2010
Pepperfoot Jack woke with a bristle-haired holotat dancing on his shoulder.
“Wake up Jack! Rise and shine and we’ll make a dime. Get out of the sack and don’t go back.”
Jack clapped a hand over the punctures in his skin where the nano-driven artwork had been embedded. A teardrop shaped head popped up between two knuckles, followed by a white blob that flip-flopped to his shoulder.
“What’s got you in a knot-snot?” the teardrop asked, and blinked its beady red eyes until they turned green.
Jack stepped up to the sink and splashed water on his face. He rubbed his chin. Any use shaving today? he asked the square-faced man in the mirror. A thick nose and hard gray eyes gazed back at him. Arms crossed, the holotat rested on Jack’s shoulder, using the ridge of a scar for a seat.
The telephone whistled. “Whatzzup?” Jack said, recognizing his friend Luke’s ring tone.
“Where’d you get to last night?” Luke asked.
Jack wondered about that. He and Luke had gotten day work in the morning, so they had enough money to enjoy the night and still pay down their credit lines. They’d planned to get cheap holographic tattoos. They were convivial drinking buddies. Girls loved them.
“Didn’t we get holo’d?” Jack asked.
“You took off. We thought you’d wussed out on us.”
“Hold the phone!” A white cloud erupted from Jack’s arm. “Pepperfoot Jack is a wuss?”
Luke laughed. “Wanna look for work? East Sector’s hiring.”
#
Jack met Luke on the elevated train going into downtown Chicago. When they reached the Loop, they took a subway to the new landfill in Lake Michigan. It teemed with tall condos and elegant markets, lush and spacious parks, pebbled lanes and flower gardens. Here, Jack mused, people didn’t live in one-room cubicles, or work merely to pay down their credit lines. And they ate food made from real plants and animals.
“Look,” Luke said, showing Jack the underside of his hairy forearm as they walked to the employment exchange. “Come on out, darlin’.”
A tiny naked woman emerged from under Luke’s skin and danced around a pole.
“Get that last night?” Jack asked.
“Hundred bucks worth,” Luke said. “Where’s yours?”
“Up yours, you say? Up yours!” The holotat strutted up and down Jack’s hairy arm as the two men joined the ragged line outside the work depot.
It was noon, so the best jobs were taken. Driver, body guard: those were good. Window washer and street sweeper were hard-labor assignments. Today, Jack and Luke got picked for a street cleaning team.
“I can drive a truck,” Luke offered. Being the first to speak up, he got the job. Jack wanted a power broom because it did all the real work, so he raised his hand to get the contactor’s attention.
“You want to see a truck driver?” The holotat dangled above Jack’s arm. “My man Pepperfoot can out-truck the best of ‘em!”
“Put that thing away,” the contractor said. “You want work, you better put your toy away.”
“I’m no man’s toy. I’m every woman’s joy.” The holographic tattoo hopped from foot to foot, its hands folded into fists.
The contractor turned to the other men in the depot. “I need one more for street-cleaning.”
“Hey,” Jack said. “I put him away. He’s put away.” “Don’t shut me up, don’t put me down. Don’t be mean, get out of town.”
“You better get that taken care of,” Luke said, and walked to the truck parked by the fence. His four man crew followed. The one who’d taken Jack’s place waved to his friends.
#
“The thing is,” the artist said, “it’s not one of ours.” He probed Jack’s arm with a stylus, and then sat back on his stool and turned off the lamp he’d used to get a good look at the punctures in Jack’s arm. “You probably got this from an underground shop. You remember where you were?”
“I was too drunk.”
“Some of those guys don’t really care about art. Or about making money.” The artist’s angular face assumed an aura of sadness. “They just like to hack people’s minds.”
“Can’t you dig it out?”
“If I cut into the arm, your little buddy’s going to burrow deeper. Hell, one guy had the thing popping out of his anus.”
“They migrate?” Jack asked.
“Piss them off and you won’t like where they go.”
“So I gotta live with this thing for a week?”
The artist snorted. “This kind of nano can last for years.”
“It’s a damn machine,” Jack roared. “You can turn off a machine.”
“If you know the password. That’s the problem. Without the password, you can’t reprogram them. Most people don’t want to. The up-side is, they’re pretty intelligent. That’s why they pop up with things on their own.”
Jack didn’t like the look of admiration on the young man’s face.
#
Finding the underground artist was easier at night than during the day. So Jack waited for evening, and then set off down the street near where he’d been with Luke the night before.
A Grabber took hold of him as he passed a legitimate tattoo parlor. Two other men, each as beefy and as tall as Jack, helped the Grabber usher Jack into an alley.
“Looking for something special?” the Grabber asked. “Tell me what you want. We got it all.”
“It ain’t nothing ‘til you get somethin’,” the holotat crowed, popping up through Jack’s shirtsleeve.
“You got one of Rick the Pick’s,” the red-faced Grabber said.
“Is that the tattoo artist?” Jack asked. “I want to talk to him. Now!”
The Grabber’s companions stepped forward, leather jackets parted to reveal holstered blackjacks.
“Hold on, gents,” the holotat sang, raising its white-gloved hands. “You do any punching, I live down there.” He pointed in the general direction of Jack’s upper arm.
“What’s it cost to get this thing off me?” Jack asked.
A narrow-brimmed plastic hat atop a long suede coat and polished black shoes emerged from the side of a building. Jack recognized him. He was a hip-hop-hacker, one of those twenty-something entrepreneurs who dominated TV with reality tales of mercantile derring-do.
“Two thousand dollars,” the hacker said in a scratchy voice, and rubbed his pointy nose with a finger.
“Two? Thousand?” Jack swallowed. His line of credit was less than 500.
The hacker waved a hologram etcher in Jack’s face. “The price goes up next week.”
“Is that the game?” Jack seethed. “You plant this thing in me for a hundred bucks, then want ten times as much to get it out?”
“Twenty times, if you do the math.” The hacker grinned.
“Somebody’s gonna do the math on you,” Jack shouted. The bodyguards sprang forward, one with a blackjack raised. The Grabber pulled a small, silver pistol out of his pocket
“Step off, dude,” the holotat sang. “Get out of my face. The way you act, it’s a big disgrace.” It bounced on Jack’s upper arm. “Think you’re tough? Think you’d last? Better watch out, ‘cause I’ll kick your ass.”
The Grabber laughed. “You better come up with that two thousand, buddy. He’s gonna drive you nuts.” He and the bodyguards followed the hacker into the alley.
The holotat chortled. “Good thing I’m here. Saved you from a super-butt-whopping!”
“Can’t you shut up?” Jack asked.
“Hey! I’m your little buddy!”
“Quiet!”
“Face it, you need me. You really need me.”
“Will you be quiet, please?” Jack whined. The holotat retreated down into Jack’s arm. Silence followed. Street noise intervened. Wailing siren. A merchant’s call. Grating music from a nearby bar.
“You still there?” Jack whispered to his upper arm.
Nothing.
“Little buddy,” Jack said. “You still there?”
“Of course I am!”
Jack was surprised by the feeling of relief that swept over him when the tattoo reappeared. “What happened to you?”
“You said the magic word. Say the magic word and you can get almost anything.”
“Huh?” Jack asked.
“Magic word! Didn’t your mama teach you anything?”
“Please?” Jack asked, remembering what he had said.
“Don’t say it much, do you?”
“That’s the password?” Jack asked. “Please? You respond to please?”
The holotat put a gloved hand to its forehead. “Who would’ve thunk it!”
Jack grinned. “Turn yourself into a naked dancing girl. Please.”
“It doesn’t work like that. But I can help you get a real dancing girl.”
“You will?”
“Absolutely. I’m your little buddy!” It danced in the crook of Jack’s arm. “You ain’t gotta worry. You’ll get friends in a hurry.” Then it sat astride Jack’s ear. “Let’s go!”
“Where?” Jack said.
“You want a girl? You want her now? Just stick with me and I’ll show you how.”
“What about work? I need to find work.”
“Yeah, yeah. Toil and labor, if that’s your favor. Gots to make the money if you wants the honey.”
Jack beamed, and savored his future prospects. A job, a girl, and a good buddy friend.
The End
