Chapter Twenty-Two - Dress for Stress

“I’m not saying that counterfeiting should be punishable by death... but I’m not not saying that.”

--Bert McWeathers, Deputy Head of the Treasury Dept., Former United States of America, 2036

***

Pop-up stalls were a pretty common feature. A corpo would rent out some walking space in a busy part of the city, and overnight a stall would appear selling whatever. Those sorts were usually manned by some sort of android and would have out-priced stuff for sale.

It was pretty normal to see one appear in front of a competitor’s shop, just as a sort of insult, or as a way to drag customers away. It made for good artificial drama, and I remembered loving reading about two luxury brands being pissed at each other on social media.

That was before I grew old enough to realise that both brands were owned by the same megacorp.

In any case, pop-up stalls were kind of a neat way to switch things up in an area, but they had their limits. Lucy and I were heading to a corner of New Montreal that was known for its stalls. I’d never been there before, because it was the sort of place that was a bit too exclusive to let the likes of me in.

At least, that’s what I thought.

We circled a large building a few blocks over from the centre of the city. “Finding parking here’s gonna be tough,” Lucy said.

“Eh, I could park in the middle of the road,” I said.

Lucy laughed. “No, don’t! That’s just abusing your privilege.”

I didn’t comment on how I’d done it a few times already. Instead I circled around another time while connecting my augs to the nearest building’s parking system. It wanted me to download some parking app thing that’d let me check on availability and reserve a place in exchange for a mostly subscription thing.

Myalis seemed to take umbrage to that, and the system folded as she poked at it. My auto-pilot found a spot in the VIP section and I turned the bike in that direction.

Slipping into a parking garage and past its security, we drove up a ramp and into the reserved section, then right into a nice open spot. “Alright,” I said.

Lucy pressed herself closer to me as she swung her leg off the back, then she hopped off properly and wiggled her helmet off while I stood. Her hair came out in a big poof, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s racist,” she said.

“What? How?”

“You’re mocking my hair, just because it can’t handle hats,” she said before placing the helmet onto the bike’s bench. She ran her hands into her hair and tried to fix it, but the helmet had done a number on it.

“I think your hair’s fabulous,” I said.

Lucy sniffed haughtily, but I knew that look in her eyes. Lucy was a lot of things, and vain was certainly one of them. Not too much so, but she did enjoy a solid compliment. “So, what is this place?”

“I imagine you mean beyond the parking garage?” I asked, then ducked her swat. “It’s a clothes place. Myalis helped me find it. It’s basically an entire floor with nothing but pop-up stands and merchant stalls and stuff. It’s a bit exclusive.”

“Oh, sounds fancy,” Lucy said. “But you know, I’m not all about that fancy stuff, right? I do need new threads, but it doesn’t need to be something too chic. Those credits could be spent on something else.”

I reached out and pulled Lucy in for a hug. “I want to spend a lot of money to make you feel pretty,” I said.

Lucy returned the hug. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “And besides, feel pretty? What if I want to be pretty, hmm?”

“You’re already the prettiest,” I said.

Lucy laughed, light and chiming and very much pretty. Even after all this time it made my insides squirm. “You’re so cheesy, Cat.”

“Just a little,” I admitted. “Come on!”

It wasn’t too far from the parking garage to the rest of the building. We stayed close as we rode an elevator down, then made our way through a few corridors. The deeper we went, the more people were around. Eventually we rode a travelator along with some dozen other people to a sort of toll booth.

The booth was manned by a pair of androids checking people’s ID and charging a small fee for entrance. It was just a thousand credits, about what someone would pay for a half-dozen cans from a vending machine.

It was probably just enough to keep vagrants out and to pay for the security itself. Lucy and I passed without issues, which was nice. Myalis spoofed the ID thing, and I transferred over the entrance cost since... well, money wasn’t as much of a concern, and while I could probably get in without paying, that seemed needlessly dickish. “Welcome to the Arcade,” the android said in a smooth, feminine voice.

The opening beyond the toll was a wide open space, but one with a wall just ahead of us, it forced people coming in to pick a side and move. The wall did have a large screen on it with a map that would switch out to ads every few seconds.

“Okay,” I said as I looked at the map, then I frowned as it switched out to another ad. “Fuck’s sake.” Lucy giggled next to me. “Right, uh, looks like the middle part is all corpo stalls. Fancy clothes and shit. The outer ring is smaller shops and, uh, it looks like single-worker shops. Bespoke stuff.”

“Bespoke?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah, that’s the gimmick here. A lot of the smaller stalls on the outer ring are basically run and owned by the same people. So they sell stuff that they make. I think some of them even make things custom on the spot.”

“Oh, that sounds kind of awesome,” Lucy said.

“Expensive too, I bet, but yeah. There’s supposed to be quick printers for harder parts and they have machines to put the clothes together on the spot. Some of them do things by hand too. You can get custom designs and gear.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Lucy said. “Where do we start?”

“I think that’d be up to you,” I said. “You’re the one that needs more clothes more than I do.”

“You think you don’t need new clothes?” Lucy asked.

“I mean, I can go out in samurai chic any day, it’s kind of a universal fit that way, you know?” My gear probably wasn’t appropriate for every place, but it was also samurai gear, which meant that I didn’t need to fit in.

Lucy reached down and grabbed my meat hand, then she pulled me after her. I jogged to keep up, then ran a little faster as Lucy lost her footing on a slight incline in the floor. She was still just a little bit clumsy.

“Right, okay,” she said. “So obviously we need to work on your design.”

“My what?”

“Your look, your style.”

I frowned. “What’s wrong with my style?” I asked. “Is it the cat ears?”

“No, those are fine. The tail is too, when you have it. It’s more.. Hmm, actually, your overall design isn’t bad, but it’s not all there. You’ve got the long-coat and all-black gear going. The pink highlights are a nice touch, they break up the darker shades and give some things room to pop. The cat theme is pretty subtle overall too.”

“Alright,” I said.

“But I think it could be better!” Lucy nodded. “You don’t really give off a strong image except for like, the impression that you’re cool and dark and mysterious. At least to people that don’t know you.”

“And that’s bad?”

“Obviously! You could pivot around and be cute and cuddly. You do have a cat theme going, you know.”

“I absolutely refuse,” I said.

Lucy turned my way and batted her eyes. “But it would be cute,” she said.

I poked her cheek. “No,” I said.

Grinning, Lucy continued to walk ahead. “Alright, fine. Right now your look doesn’t say much about you, though, at least not to anyone looking. You don’t have a lot of visible utility stuff, so you don’t come off as militaristic. You don’t look sloppy enough to be casually cool. Dark and mysterious fits with the stealth stuff, but you don’t have that... femme fatale assassin look.”

“Should I?” I asked.

“Well, you’d need to ditch the long coat and wear much tighter gear.” Lucy licked her lips. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. A literal Catsuit.”

“I... don’t know about that,” I said. I wasn’t uncomfortable in my skin, but the idea of wearing nothing but something entirely skintight was pushing it. I didn’t mind being exposed at home, between just me and Lucy, but going out in public that way would make me way too self conscious.

“Hmm, that’s fine too. Still, we have to work on your image! Right now you’re the unapproachable girl that shot the mayor. That might work for some samurai, but I think you’re the sort that wants people to work with her. So... wardrobe change!”

***