Flash Fiction 7: The Future Sucks For Immortals

“What’ll it be?”

“One beer and some intel.”

“What kind?”

“I’m looking for a guy.”

“No, what kind of beer and slide your Ident here.”

“Whatever’s on tap. So do you know a guy?”

“Gonna have to be more specific.”

“A guy who can get things. Fake Idents. Hacked Idents. You know things.”

“Ah a fixer.”

“Yeah, if that’s what you call them now. Do you know one?”

“Sorry, don’t know anyone.”

“Come on, you got to know someone. Or know someone who might know someone.”

“Nope Govm’nt been cracking down hard the last few years. Drove the fixers deep underground. If you weren’t personal friends with one a few years ago, you ain’t gonna find one now.”

“Great. Just great.”

“What you need a fixer for anyway?”

“I need a new identity.”

“I figured that out. You on the run? There a reward?”

“No, I… forget it. Can you point me in the direction of the next diveyest bar on this rock?”

“Sure down the street one block, take a left, go five blocks, and you’re at Chud’s. Diveyest bar this side of Mars.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh by the way you might want to use a different fake Ident when you go into Chud’s. I don’t really care but Chud’s bouncer isn’t gonna like being shown an obvious fake. It’s the age that gives it away, you don’t look anywhere near eighty. Hell you don’t look older than twenty.”

“Yeah I know, that’s the problem with being immortal.”


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