“Huh. I don’t know. You’ve got what I’d call a shit eating grin on you. You up to something?”

Helix shook her head slowly, then took one of Chango’s hands in hers, brought it to her mouth and started chewing lightly on her fingers.

“Hey, stop it. Not in here,” regretfully she pulled her hand back.

“No? Okay.” Helix folded her four hands primly on the table. “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Think you’re ready to go to the bar? There’s a band playing at Josa’s tonight.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll be with you. And Hyper said he’s going.”

Helix nodded. “Okay.” And then, to Chango’s amazement, she took off her raincoat. “You were right you know,” she said. “People aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be.”

oOo

Chango clung to one of Helix’s hands and squirmed through the crowd at Josa’s. It was fine for her, she was good at slipping through crowds, but Helix kept getting caught on people. By the time they got to the bar, she’d had the best possible introduction to a fair percentage of the Vattown population, and was looking pretty panicky. “Sorry about that,” said Chango, “It’s kind of crowded.”

Helix shook her head, and laughed. “That was so weird!” she said, looking more like the victim of a roller coaster ride than a person actually terrified. She’d left her raincoat at Hyper’s, wearing just the green polysuit and a blue sylk swing tunic they found yesterday behind Clothzillion’s. Her color was high, her eyes sparkling. With a twinge of pride, Chango noticed that other people were staring at her too.

“People were all pushed up against me,” said Helix. “No one could really see me. But I felt them,” she leaned forward and ran a hand up Chango’s arm. “like I felt you.”

Chango’s eyes widened. This was a far cry from the person who’d fled in terror because Chango bumped into her in a casino. “I can’t believe how well you’re handling this!” she shouted as the band started up. “I didn’t think I’d get you in the door!”

“Hey kids!” it was Hyper, popping out of the crowd like a cork. He still had his transceiver on, with a projector lens screwed onto it so he could flash pictures up on the walls when he danced. The Ply-Tones started playing Zinc Oxide, and Chango jumped off her stool. “I have to dance to this!”

she said.

“Yeah!” Hyper nodded his head at the dark walls of the bar, “I’m with you, sister. What this place needs is a good light show.”

Chango shook her head, “We can’t leave Helix here alone!”

They glanced at Helix, who stood. “I’ll dance,” she said, her voice barely audible over the urgent beat of the music.

Hyper danced in a manic jitter, frantically switching channels, providing the bar’s denizens with visuals ranging from detergent commercials to open heart surgery. The images flashed and flickered on the walls as his head swayed to the music, but his efforts were in vain. Everybody within eyeshot was watching Helix.

She danced like a temple goddess, her arms waving, her skin glistening with the reflected colors of Hyper’s wall projections. Space formed around them as the other dancers slowed and backed away to watch her. When the song ended, they were surrounded by a ring of onlookers who burst into spontaneous applause. Helix stood in the middle of the circle, her eyes suddenly wide with surprise and fear. But then another song started, and her body seemed to take over from her mind, turning and swaying with the undulating rhythms of the music.

oOo

The set ended and Helix, out of breath and dizzy from dancing, followed Chango and Hyper back to the bar. Hyper ordered a round of drafts. With just the jukebox playing, the noise in the bar settled down to a dull roar. The door opened, and a discernable ripple ran through the place. The crowd parted to let a stately creature through. She walked with either indolent grace or extreme carefulness, Helix wasn’t sure which. She was upwards of seven feet tall, her hair — pure white and fine as spun glass — was swept up over her brows in an elaborate filigree of braids. Her skin was not so much white as it was transparent. She looked blue. Not the black blue of the night sky, but the softest, palest powder blue imaginable, and even from here, Helix could make out the tracery of veins across her face and hands. Accompanied by her bodyguard, she glided to the back of the bar and softly folded herself into a corner booth.

"The Doctor is in," muttered Chango.

"Who is that?" whispered Helix.

"Orielle," Chango told her. "They say if it weren't for her, there'd be no blast in Vattown. Of course that's not all she deals in."

People began to drift over to Orielle's table singly and in pairs. They'd sit with her for a time — you never actually saw the money or anything else, but in a little while they’d get up and another set of buyers took their place.

"I think they're getting up," said Hyper, sliding off his stool and nodding at the pair of divers at the booth.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Chango.

Hyper looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“You’re not buying anything from her, are you?” said Chango.

Hyper shrugged.

“Hyper, with your jumped up metabolism, you can’t afford to go messing around with her concoctions.”

“I’m just going to say ‘hi’. Don’t you want to meet her, Helix?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” said Helix.

“Then come on.”

Helix followed him to Orielle’s table, trailed reluctantly by Chango.

"Orielle, I want you to meet Helix, Helix, Orielle,” said Hyper. The creature lifted her head, and turned towards them a face of finely drawn bones — all sharp edges and angular planes, her skin thin and translucent, like rice paper. And her eyes — red, hot, albino eyes. "I have heard so much about you," she said to Helix, dropping her eyes and waving her into the seat across from her. Her long, silver painted fingernails glittered and drew figures in the air. Like dancers, Orielle’s hands moved across the table top, scooped up a small silver box, and then by some subtle motion, she held four ampules in her hand like slivers of ice, palest blue. "A little something of my own design,” she said, “I call it Shivers of Glass. It has a diazepam base note with highlights of ergoloid mesylate. A tad on the narcotic side but still I find it quite... exquisite.” She twirled an ampule between her fingers and broke it, throwing her head back and inhaling the evaporating liquid. A moment passed with nothing more than bar noises to mark it. Orielle drew her head back down, her eyes glittering. There were still three ampules in her hand. “Would you like to try it?” she asked Helix. Chango shook her head.

“No thanks,” said Helix. Orielle offered an ampule to Hyper, but he refused under Chango’s insistent glare. Orielle turned to Chango.

“No thanks,” she said.

“Ah that’s right, you’re the little pothead who doesn’t do drugs.”

Chango scowled, “What’s a little reefer? It’s mixed with tobacco anyway.”

“Oh and tobacco isn’t a drug?”

“No, and neither is pot in my opinion, they’re plants. The stuff you sell, it’s all synthesized chemicals. Man made substances the human body was never designed to handle.”

Orielle chuckled softly, “Whatever. Anyway, I haven’t seen your friend Benny here tonight. Tell him I’ve come into a quantity of blast in liquid form. If he’s interested I can give him a good price.”

Chango wrinkled her nose. “What would Benny want with liquid? He’s not a shooter.”

“Of course not. Some people like to make their own blends. He was into it a few years ago, so maybe he’d be interested now.”

“Maybe,” said Chango, “but I’m not doing your pushing for you. You want to sell him something, you talk to him.”

“She’s quite cantankerous, isn’t she?” Orielle said to Helix. “Is she taking good care of you?”