I decide to keep wearing little Kimi
for the moment. She's a comfortable little body, lets me slip
through the crowds easily, playing little parkour games. Someone
watching carefully might notice that Kimi moves more quickly than a
little girl should, but they'd have to be very observant. If they're
watching me that close, they already know what I am, and I lose
nothing for the practice.
Save perhaps to get them to make a
mistake.
As I pass the various little places, I
take my breakfast. A pastry here, half a bottle of juice or water
there. No caffeine, it hits me harder than it does them. A sip or
two of soda and I get jitters. Not good for the survival instinct.
Probably a result of my metabolism, or whatever it is that I have.
Before long, I am fed, moving cleanly toward the port.
It's time to become older. Kimi should
probably be in school by now. Even running, she'll attract
attention. The crowd is thinning, here, too, which makes it worse.
Fortunately, this country is big on public bathrooms. Enter Kimi,
exit her older sister, heavy and skirted. One more, and their
distant cousin Juan steps from a men's room and trudges painfully
along the street. Obviously, he is going somewhere to seek work, his
clothes a little dirty, a little threadbare, but clearly kept as well
as possible.
The talk changes here, deepens, as
there are fewer women and children about. Mostly they are men of
significant physical strength. They go to move large things, a thing
that men seem to do for money more than women. Gretchen had many
things to say about such human tendencies. I wonder, from time to
time, how right she was.
But also here are the grayer places,
where one might slip from the legal to the illegal. A part of every
world that I learn over and over. Each place has its dance, and the
gray zones are where money is easiest.
I don't need much, but what I need I
truly do. Being able to acquire funds is important. There aren't
many legal jobs which pay only in cash, here, or anywhere, anymore.
Certain types of crime pay well, once one knows certain secrets.
Dancing here is taciturn, I can see
within minutes. Nobody speaks, but everyone listens to the few words
that fall. Watching from a roof for several hours, the traffic leads
me to a nameless little bar that is the hub of communication.
Time for a drink, then.
424
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