Chapter Twenty-Three - Free and Compulsory

“With the modern love for quick fashion comes a modern dislike of trashed clothing. Fashion changes so quickly that by the time something is designed according to a new fashion, made, then shipped to its market, the fashion it was designed for might have moved on and become démodé.

Which, naturally, leads to entire shipping containers being dumped. You can’t unmake clothes and remake them, and shelf space is limited. It’s cheaper to throw it all away and start over.

It’s unforgivably wasteful. If you’re going to throw so much effort away, then why not save yourself some trouble, apply some skill, and make fashion that will never fade?”

--Audrey Alice Darnell-Forsythe, president of Cutting Edge Fashion, 2051

***

“What about something like that?” Lucy asked. She was pointing to a massive floor-to-ceiling banner ad in front of one of the shops in the inner circle of the Arcade. The shops and stalls here were all corpo clothing places.

Not that the clothing they sold was necessarily corpo fashion. There were plenty of designer casual wear. Hoodies and t-shirts and jackets with looping .Gifs on the back or tracksuits with RGB stripes. The kind of shit you’d never be caught wearing in a board meeting. Still, the brands were corporate, even if what they sold didn’t fit that aesthetic.

It looked more like... well, samurai gear, but cheaper.

My jacket was a pretty good example of it. It was cut and tailored to fit me, the flaps or whatever they were called stopped exactly at the knee, the back part was fit precisely to my shoulder's length, the front bit was bunched out just enough for my breasts.

I’d mostly worn hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs my entire life, and it was kind of miraculous to just get clothes that fit right. The last coat I had was way too tight at the front, and I couldn’t zip the damned thing up, and the sleeves were too long.

Anyway, I looked at the sign, then squinted a little. “That’s very corpo,” I said.

The model on the banner was a tall, skinny woman in a pantsuit and suit jacket. She was strutting towards the viewer, but the camera was backing away at the same rate so she remained in focus the entire time.

“Yeah, but it’s hot,” Lucy countered. “She’s got that... I’m going to top you energy going on.”

“You find that hot?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” she said with a nod. “Well... I guess you’re right, it would be silly on you.”

“I didn’t say that,” I said.

She grinned. “Of course not.” I glared at Lucy, but she just smiled smugly at me and pulled me forwards. “It’s not right for you anyway. You’re too casually dangerous for that kind of thing. Plus it kinda goes counter to your cat-theme.”

“Cats can be serious and whatever that is,” I said with a gesture to the ad. “Glamorous and graceful or whatever. Cats are notably like that.”

“Yeah, of course, but that’s not the kind of cat you are.”

“What?” I asked. “Then what kind of cat am I?”

“Alley?”

I sniffed. “That’s just mean.”

“Alright, so maybe something more casual? But we don’t want to be too casual, because casual and violence combined comes off as sloppy,” Lucy said.

“How do you figure that?”

She slowed down, then leaned into me as we walked. It was something she’d always done, at least until she needed more help to walk than just someone to lean on. “Okay, so, you’re walking down an alley.”

“Is this an alley-cat thing?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s a joke,” she confirmed with a grin. “Now stop interrupting, I’m painting a picture with my words.”

“That’s called hallucinating, and it’s not good for your health.”

She jabbed an elbow into my side, and I laughed. “You’re walking down an alley. It’s night, so it’s poorly lit. You’re not in the safe parts of the city. Then someone steps out ahead of you and tells you to stop. What’re the first things you do?”

“Shoot?”

“Cat,” she whined.

I shook my head. “Ah, okay, so, dark alley, it’s probably a mugger, or someone like that. Your word-pictures are a bit stereotypical.”

“Okay, maybe, but what’s actually the first thing you do?”

I frowned. There was a hint of seriousness there. She was trying to make a point, and she wouldn’t be able to if I didn’t pay attention, so I did. I imagined the scenario, then shrugged again. “I guess I’ll look at the person, see if they’re armed, then either bolt or fight.”

“Exactly!” Lucy said. “So, humans are wired weird, right?”

Tell me about it.

I decided to ignore Myalis as Lucy went on. “When we see a threat or whatever, we kind of instantly lock onto it and go through a mental checklist. Is it a person? Is it an animal? Is it an alien, which I guess folds into animal for hind-brain purposes? Is it something else? And if it is a person, then do we know them? If you worked for a corp and the person telling you to stop was in the corp security uniform, then you might be scared for a second but you’d calm down. They’re not a threat. If you’re in a gang, and the person in the alley’s in the same colours, then you’re safe.”

“Right, okay,” I said. “That makes sense. People are good at sussing people out at a glance.”

Lucy nodded and was clearly quite proud of her... whatever that had been. “Exactly. So, a normie might see a cop and feel safe, or see someone dressed in rags and get scared. What if they see someone dressed like that?” She pointed to the banner ad. The woman was gone, replaced by a chisel-jawed chad-type guy in corpowear.

“That’d be a real high-class mugger,” I said.

“So they wouldn’t be as scared, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“So that’s why you want to pay attention to what you wear. Casual is good for telling people that you’re not serious, but it also doesn’t disarm people. Casual is too... variable? Anyone could be wearing casual stuff.”

“You know, your girlfriend is pretty smart,” a strangely familiar voice said from behind me. “Which is surprising, all things considered.”

I turned around and locked eyes with... someone I didn’t know. A woman, maybe late twenties or early thirties, half a head shorter than me. Very little makeup, but what was there made her high cheekbones stand out and darkened her eyes. She had that noble look going. And she was dressed in very nice corpo-chic. A glossy skirt and suit, with a few tasteful accessories in silver. I didn’t know enough to recognize brands or anything, but it looked at once very expensive and understated.

It reminded me a little of those stupidly unaffordable luxury hovercars that just looked like a nice car, without any bells and whistles, and which cost a CEO’s annual salary.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

She blinked once, then one eyebrow perked up very slightly. “I suppose you don’t know me in this form, but I’ve hardly switched faces since we last met. Should I be insulted, Miss Catherine Leblanc?”

“Cat, who’s this?” Lucy asked.

She didn’t strike me as a weirdo. Well, yes, but not the dangerous type. She didn’t have the feel of a rabid fan or something like that either. More... like she was a businessperson here to do business.

I looked her up and down again, but nothing came to mind. “Sorry,” I said. “Who are you?”

She sighed. “I’m Audrey Alice Darnell-Forsythe. And from what I hear, you’re doing the intelligent thing and are looking at improving your image.”

“We’re just buying clothes,” I said.

“I’ll help,” she said.

“I... no?”

Audrey shook her head. “Didn’t I once tell you, consultations are free and compulsory.”

It clicked then. The all-black outfit, the face, the voice, and then that particular line. “Emoscythe?”

“Emoscyhe Mordeath Noir,” she corrected before frowning. “Though at the moment, I’m Audrey.”

So, out of uniform she wasn’t a samurai anymore? “No one knows who you are here?” I asked. “Uh, I mean, when you’re out samurai’ing?”

She shook her head. “Plenty know. Those who should, in any case. There are a number of employees who work for me here. Some know about my extracurricular activities. Others only know me as the president of whatever company they work for.”

“Wow, that sounds like a lot of work,” Lucy said. “I’m Lucy, by the way.”

Emoscythe-slash-Audrey glanced at her and nodded. “A pleasure, Lucy. I enjoy the work. Otherwise I wouldn’t bother. In any case, I overheard you two talking about image, so I decided to come over and assist.”

“Come over?” I asked. “You weren’t in here already?”

“Why would I be here? This market is interesting, certainly, but it’s one of a half-dozen in New Montreal currently running. I had no reason to be here now.”

“So you came here from home or whatever after overhearing us?” I asked, just to be sure.

She rolled her eyes. “Don't say that as if you’re unfamiliar with the idea of proper surveillance. I have assets here. I keep an eye on things. My AI informs me if a samurai is shopping at one of my shops. Most of the time I leave them be. Everyone needs clothes and it’s none of my business what sort of underthings someone prefers. But if it sounds like they need help, then I help. And you need help. Consultations are free and compulsory.”

***