Chiba City Blues
Chapter 1
Theskyabovetheportwasthecoloroftelevision,tunedtoadeadchannel.
`It’snotlikeI’musing,’Caseheardsomeonesay,asheshoulderedhiswaythroughthecrowdaroundthedooroftheChat.`It’slikemybody’sdevelopedthismassivedrugdeficiency.’ItwasaSprawlvoiceandaSprawljoke.TheChatsubowasabarforprofessionalexpatriates;youcoulddrinkthereforaweekandneverheartwowordsinJapanese.
Ratzwastendingbar,hisprostheticarmjerkingmonotonouslyashefilledatrayofglasseswithdraftKirin.HesawCaseandsmiled,histeethawebworkofEastEuropeansteelandbrowndecay.Casefoundaplaceatthebar,betweentheunlikelytanononeofLonnyZone’swhoresandthecrispnavaluniformofatallAfricanwhosecheekboneswereridgedwithpreciserowsoftribalscars.`Wagewasinhereearly,withtwojoeboys,’Ratzsaid,shovingadraftacrossthebarwithhisgoodhand.`Maybesomebusinesswithyou,Case?’
Caseshrugged.Thegirltohisrightgiggledandnudgedhim.
Thebartender’ssmilewidened.Hisuglinesswasthestuffoflegend.Inanageofaffordablebeauty,therewassomethingheraldicabouthislackofit.Theantiquearmwhinedashereachedforanothermug.ItwasaRussianmilitaryprosthesis,aseven-functionforce-feedbackmanipulator,casedingrubbypinkplastic.`Youaretoomuchtheartiste,HerrCase.’Ratzgrunted;thesoundservedhimaslaughter.Hescratchedhisoverhangofwhite-shirtedbellywiththepinkclaw.`Youaretheartisteoftheslightlyfunnydeal.’
