DME: Style Over Substance
Oct. 31st, 2017 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lb_leeStyle Over Substance
Series: Disabled Cyborgs/Durable Medical Equipment
Word Count: 4000
Summary: Levi Ibrahim and Brand Olajuwon have been involved for a while, but both are keeping secrets, and now they have a job to do.
Notes: This story comes after The Bionic Prosthetist, but you can follow what happens without it. It was sponsored by the Patreon crew! Special thanks goes to Lydean Kenzall for the pointers on the manufacturing of dildos, and also sending me down a rabbit hole of the disreputable business practices some companies get up to! More notes at the bottom.
When Brand arrived at Pinoko Prosthetics, he found Lev just coming out of his workshop, sleeves rolled up and wiping his hands clean on a damp rag.
“Perfect timing! I’ve got a few models for the hard rig you wanted. Tell me what you think?”
Part of Brand wanted to burst in and look immediately, but another part of him wanted to hang back. What if he hated everything he saw? And besides... “I ain’t got rid of Lightfire yet...”
But Lev shook his head and slung the washcloth over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. This is just the clay model, the cheap part.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup! Once I get the clay models right, I use that to make a silicone mold, which the rigs themselves are made from. So if none of these suit you, I’ll use them for the prefab market; they’ll surely suit someone else.”
That helped a little. Still, Brand felt weird going in to see dicks custom-sculpted for him. It felt like being naked somehow, even though he and Lev had been fucking for a couple weeks. He told himself that this was Lev’s job; surely he’d made so many dicks by now that it was nothing personal. Still, it felt personal.
Brand went in, and there on the work table were three erections made of plain gray clay. Lev had given him the choice as to whether he wanted the soft or the hard rig first, but seeing how Brand’s sex life was taking off lately, it hadn’t been hard to choose.
“Can I… touch them?”
“Sure, but gently; no squeezing!”
The first one, Brand immediately knew wasn’t right. Sure, it matched the specs he’d given—they all did—but this one had a prominent mushroom head and a ramrod straight angle, and the balls were too big, and just no. It wasn’t his. He didn’t even bother touching it; he didn’t want to.
The second was closer. He liked its taper better, and it seemed… fine? But that was it, just fine. Brand touched it, but the ambivalence didn’t ease.
He was just starting to wonder if he was being too picky when he saw the third, and yes. Yes. That was it! The curve and sweep of it, the veins, even the slight curve and asymmetry on the left side, all of it was right, and touching it made him ache.
He realized he was starting to stroke it lightly and hastily shoved his hands in his pockets. “That one. That’s it.”
“No adjustments?”
“Nah, just like it is. It’s perfect.”
And then he dragged Lev into the bedroom because even if that cock wasn’t attached to him yet, he could see it, feel it, and wanted to use it. Lev didn’t seem to mind at all.
But as Lev got on his knees to suck him off, Brand suddenly realized something: Lev had never asked for that himself.
“Here, let me do it this time--” Brand said.
“No thanks, this is fine,” Lev said, and Brand was too horny to protest it.
But once they’d come and Lev was snuggled into his shoulder, rosy on the bed, Brand found himself wondering. As far as he knew, Lev had never used one of his own rigs, or any rig at all. Hell, Brand still hadn’t seen what Lev had in his pants. For the past couple weeks, it’d seemed sensible enough—Brand had been the same way, until he’d gotten with Levi and no longer had to worry about being clocked—but now he was perplexed. Lev obviously knew his craft, had made a million sensate dicks. Why didn’t he use one?
Maybe he was one of those guys who felt fine with what he had? But then why hadn’t Brand ever seen or touched him, or seen him touching himself? Maybe a surgery had gone wrong, but that seemed unlikely too; Lev’s chest looked fantastic, barely any scarring at all. He’d obviously spent a lot of money for the best, but he only ever seemed to get off through the cord braided into the back of his skull; Brand was still idly toying with it.
“How come you don’t let me do that for you?” Brand asked.
Levi tensed. Brand kept petting him.
Finally, Lev said, “I like the wire better.”
Brand waited, but that was it. He tried coaxing. “Cause you made it yourself?”
“Mm.” Lev abruptly rolled away, got off the bed. “I forgot something. Work. Let me know if I’m too loud.”
“D’you want me to go?”
Lev’s back was to him, and for a moment, Brand thought he’d say yes, but then: “No. Your place is across town, and you need to talk with the customers in the morning. It’s fine.”
Clearly it wasn’t, but Brand didn’t protest. When he finally slid into sleep, somewhere past midnight, Lev was still in his workshop, sculpting with the lights off.
When Brand woke up, Levi was already gearing up for the morning’s customers, sweeping and organizing and taking out the trash. If he’d skipped sleep entirely, he didn’t show it, smiling and talking through his morning phone calls with his usual energy.
Since Lev didn’t own a coffee machine (he apparently ran on sheer enthusiasm), Brand darted over to Madame Nguyen’s for his morning caffeine, plus breakfast.
Madame Nguyen made the best pho in the area, but she seemed to loathe all humanity except for Lev. Her hatred for Brand had lessened some over the last couple weeks—maybe because he was helping keep Pinoko open—but this morning, her glare was back to full intensity. She served him his coffee and maple syrupy rice with raisins as though she didn’t want his money, and she said, “You asked him about the family, didn’t you?”
Brand raised his eyebrows at her.
“He was up before me, took out my trash. The only time he does that is if something,” or someone, her tone implied, “reminds him of the family.”
“That so?” Brand said neutrally. From what he’d seen, Madame Nguyen was the closest thing to a mother that Lev had ever mentioned or interacted with; he had apparently worked for her a while, and still did favors for her periodically.
Her glare sharpened. “He’s a good boy from a bad family. Don’t bother him about it.”
And then she was gone, off to hate the day’s noodles into submission. Brand said nothing, just stirred his rice and ate. It was delicious, but he barely noticed the flavors. He was busy thinking.
...
The job was simple. For two custom-made sensate cocks—soft and hard—Brand would get rid of the rival trying to ruin Lev’s business.
Brand doubted it’d be difficult; Dr. Lightfire didn’t have a whole lot of options left at this point. The local gangs had run off the Church of Humanity, and the local bureaucrats had a certain schedule they followed; Brand doubted they’d come out again until Lev’s paperwork gave an opening. Brand had already gone over that, and nothing was due for months.
No, Brand figured that Lightfire would just hire another tough guy—and only after Brand proved to be a failure. As far as Lightfire knew, Brand was still a devoted worker on the payroll, so that would give plenty of time for Brand to make friendly with the gangsters in Lev’s customer base. In this area of town, most of the local gangs had at least one borg among the ranks, and Levi was their one-stop shop for repairs. It meant his shop was one of the few neutral parts of town; they would probably take very unkindly to anyone trying to bully him out of business.
So all Brand had to do was eat his breakfast, go back to Pinoko Prosthetics, and just wait for the scheduled clients to come in.
Lev had arranged his appointments for just the occasion. The first client of the day was one of the Cougar bosses, due for a tune-up on her new arm. She was a huge, intimidating woman, but luckily in a very good mood. With Levi’s hands buried in her shoulder, she was practically a captive audience as Brand explained the situation.
Turned out he didn’t even need to try to get the Cougars to refuse Lightfire’s business.
“He works for the Shareholders,” the boss said with derision, “and he haggles. He can go fuck the high horse he rode in on.”
Lev tensed, then returned to his work. Brand pretended not to notice, but the Cougar looked down at him.
“Hon, what’ve you done to piss off a Shareholder lackey? Y’all don’t even have the same customers, do you?”
Levi muttered something about the wings and tails market, but he looked unsettled. Brand shelved it and focused on negotiating the Cougars’ cooperation. Lucky for him, the boss proved more than amenable.
“Hell, sure, I’ll let my pals know. My man here,” she gestured at Lev with her free hand, “he was the only one who listened when I complained of phantom pain. The only one! Everyone else, they told me, oh, they all do that, but not this guy here! He saw the problem, and he fixed it! I have a vested interest in his success.”
Of course, she negotiated Brand to be in her corner at a future date, but that was fine; it was something he needed to do anyway. Every street tough needed communities and allies and the more he had the better.
A couple other low-rankers from various other groups came in as the day progressed, but there wasn’t a whole lot Brand could do with them. They were small fish, so all he could really do was try to make nice in hopes of later working his way up the chain to talk to the people who actually ran things.
Finally, one of the middle-level Citizens came in after lunch.
The Citizen man was far different than the Cougar boss. He was small and slight, as opposed to her big and broad. She was tan, while he was dark as old recording tape. And while he looked somewhat familiar, he was as cold and aloof as a cat.
It wasn’t clear what Pinoko parts he had; they weren’t visible, and Lev was vague about the details. Whatever the appointment was for, it required one of the private exam rooms in the back, and Brand didn’t get a chance to talk until both men came out.
The Citizen straightened his tie and gave Brand a haughty look. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Brand was going to say no, until he noticed the blue rose in the Citizen’s lapel. Then he said, “I’m Brand Olajuwon.”
The man’s icy demeanor melted in a flash. “You’re one of Malaika’s?” He laughed. “Well, I’ll be! How is she? I thought she only--”
“I was in the back.”
It was total bullshit, but the old man thankfully bought it, and while Lev watched in astonishment, they commenced on a good long friendly conversation in the waiting room. Of course, manners dictated that Brand catch the old man up on all his mother’s doings and successes, and once they’d reaffirmed their ties (practically family), they got down to business. Though Brand wasn’t thrilled to have to bring up his mother, he had to admit that invoking her made the Citizen easy enough to negotiate with.
After the Citizen man and the customer after him left, giving them some space, Levi asked, “Lucian Roses-In-Bloom knows your mother?”
“They dated,” Brand explained. “He sent her some of them blue roses once.”
Lev’s eyes went wide. “What does your mother do?”
Brand sucked his teeth. “She in the family business.”
“So… a gangster?”
“Hacker. She run the Olajuwon girls with my seven sisters.”
“Seven?”
“Seven. She only take girls.”
The light went on. “Oh. I… I see your problem.”
“Yeah.” That wasn’t all of it, not really, but that was one conversation Brand really didn’t want to have. “I’m gonna go talk to Lightfire, feed him some bullshit, ‘less you got anyone else coming in I need to see.”
“Nope, that’s all for today. Thanks!”
Lightfire AdapTech was a good hour by the rail, and Brand fiddled away the time on his slider. He had messages from his mother and Sharaya, his closest sister. Despite himself, he read his mother’s first: “Thinking of you. Hope you’re well. I know you want space, but if you need anything...”
He sighed. He considered not answering, then wrote back: “Saw Lucian today. He looks good. Hope you’re doing well. Love.”
Sharaya, true to form, had sent multiple messages. There were pictures of her pet boa constrictor, who was now “2m long!!!! lol my baby grown” and her latest work project, which looked like a compression error: “they don’t photo well they liek gnats but they so goooood!! Miss u how the old town??? Ping meeeeee love S.”
Brand smiled, did a quick scan through his photos, and found one he’d taken of himself in front of a rack of Pinoko knee joints. He sent it to her with the words, “Guess where @?”
She responded instantly; unlike him, her phone was wired into her head, with the keyboard tattooed on her thighs. “??? Lil bro u sick???”
“Working.”
“!!!! Lil bro 1st solo job?! Do us prooooooooud!”
Brand smiled. Then he asked, “How’s mom?”
“U kno her she crazy worried over u. I tell her u 30 y/o, u can do it but she like noooooo mah bebe!! Made her promise no 1000000000 messages checkin on u a grownass man.” Then, “she tryin. U kno her.”
Brand sighed. He loved his mother, he truly did, but there was a reason he was trying to strike out on his own. But if Sharaya wasn’t worried, then he wouldn’t be either. He spent the remainder of the trip chatting back and forth with her about her snake, her gnatbots, and her girlfriend’s latest hair disaster.
Lightfire AdapTech was no less uncomfortable than it had been the first time Brand walked in. It was all steel and glass on the outside, sharing space with a bank, and on the inside it was all abstract art and beige, no clutter anywhere. It looked like a high-end plastic surgery clinic, which wasn’t far off from the truth.
Dr. Lightfire himself looked like Santa Claus after ten years in a fitness spa, with a full white beard, rosy cheeks, and twinkly blue eyes. He might’ve looked friendly to others, but Brand wasn’t impressed. He could smile at people paying him too.
And Lightfire was paying him, for the time being. To do something Brand had no intention of doing, but still, free money. So he sat in the plush chair on the other side of the big shiny desk and fed Lightfire a pack of lies about all the stuff he was doing to get Levi Ibrahim to shut down and do business elsewhere, sprinkled with just enough truth to be convincing.
Lightfire smiled and nodded, but seemed more interested in his computer, an old-fashioned desktop model that seemed to be the sole inhabitant of the enormous, immaculately clean desk.
“Well, that’s good, son, that’s just fine.”
Brand didn’t like anyone calling him “son,” but kept his smile on. “Something come up?”
“No, no, just pleased at the good news. If our friend at Pinoko can’t afford any more setbacks, I daresay we won’t have to worry about him much longer.”
That part had been one of the true things Brand had said. Dealing with Lightfire’s other cronies had about cleaned Levi out; it was why he was paying Brand in trade.
“He ain’t down yet,” Brand said.
“He will be,” Lightfire said with a merry chuckle, and rotated the display monitor Brand’s way. “Young man, do you know what this is?”
The screen showed the Lightfire AdapTech shop page, and at first, Brand saw nothing unusual about it; it had the exact same design as it had on the wall the first day Brand had walked in, the same products.
But then he saw that the prices had changed. They were now undercutting Levi’s.
“Even the most devoted clients have to take finances into consideration,” Dr. Lightfire said cheerfully. “I doubt Pinoko will manage. A shame.”
Brand kept his face on through habit, but inside, he froze. He’d planned for intimidation, coercion, threats; that was what he knew. But a price war, that he wasn’t prepared for. What could he do, for something like that? That was Shareholder shit, not Brand’s field at all…
He thought of the stream of gangsters, brokeasses, and public assistance folks who went to Pinoko, people who were only walking, working, and breathing because they had Lev’s work inside them. He thought about how the gangsters were the only ones with any money at all. He thought of the clay model in Lev’s workshop, so flawed and right and perfect.
“I need the bathroom,” he said.
Dr. Lightfire looked momentarily surprised, then said, “Of course. Down the hall, on your left.”
Once locked in the little cubicle (single-stall and unisex, since this was in the back of the building), Brand pulled out his slider and pinged Sharaya. He explained what he was doing, and what had happened.
Her response was instantaneous: “SHAREHOLDER BULLCRAP!!!!”
Well, good to see he wasn’t the only one thinking it.
Then she sent another message: “u been had???”
Brand thought about Lev, thought about his recent behavior. Lots of things weren’t adding up, and maybe it was his balls interfering with his brain, but Brand had a hard time believing Lev would try and cheat him. Lev was a lot of things, but he’d never shown any disingenuous sneakiness. As far as Brand could tell, Lev was exactly what he seemed to be: a small-time trans prosthetist who’d built a life for himself after something went wrong with his family.
“Don’t think so,” he finally replied.
Instantly: “GET OUT OF THERE!!!”
That was the smart thing to do. Brand wasn’t getting paid nearly enough to deal with crap like this. This job had clusterfuck written all over it.
But he remembered Lev’s mouth, and his smile, and how he made Brand feel good in his body, and that clay rig in the workshop. Until Lev gave him some kind of explanation, Brand wasn’t going to pull out. “Not yet.”
“U CRAZY?!!” But then, “fine bro sending u program put it in LF comp and ill see what I can do NO PROMISES!!!”
“Thx big sis,” he wrote, and then the program arrived in his inbox.
Which led to the next question: how to get Lightfire out of his office long enough for Brand to get his hands on that dinosaur on the desk. No matter how pleasant and old-fashioned the doctor acted, he probably wouldn’t leave a career tough guy like Brand alone for long unless an emergency came up.
Brand looked up. Every time he’d been here, there’d been women receptionists, and this was a unisex bathroom. There was a little trashcan inside, and when he checked it, he lucked out: it was crammed full of old tampons and pads.
The first time Brand had gotten his period, he’d been twelve, horrified, and stupid. He’d tried to get rid of the evidence, with disastrous effect. Brand remembered, and he grinned. Then he emptied the entire trashcan into the toilet, gave the mess some time to saturate (and used the commode in the process), then flushed it.
The results were just what he expected: the thing clogged and overflowed.
Brand sauntered back to Lightfire’s office and affected a look of minor chagrin and disgust. “Uh, sorry man, but the head’s overflowing.”
It worked. Lightfire rushed out, and the moment he was gone, Brand had his slider out and plugged in. Within a few minutes, he had Sharaya’s program where it needed to be, and his phone was back in his pocket in plenty of time before Lightfire came back. By that point, the good doctor was as eager for the meeting to be over as Brand was, though he didn’t seem to suspect him of wrecking the plumbing on purpose.
Brand felt a little sorry for the receptionists who’d surely be blamed, but no help for it; whatever he did about this job, he didn’t want to have to go it alone. Within short time, he was back on the rail, texting Sharaya to get the plan together.
By the time he arrived at Pinoko, he felt ready. Lev was just closing down, sweeping and straightening things, but he straightened up when he heard Brand come in. “I didn’t expect to see you back.”
Brand pulled up a chair and pointed to another. “Sit.”
Apparently his tone broached no argument. Lev sat.
“You seen Lightfire’s shop page yet?”
Lev’s lips twisted and he tapped his goggles. “I can’t see it at all. My Braille board can’t read it.”
Brand ended up having to pull out his phone and read the shop page aloud. Before even half the prices were read off, Lev’s face was in his hands.
“This ain’t business,” Brand said when finished. “This costing him money. You barely even competing; you sell to gangs and brokeasses, not Shareholders. What’s his beef with you?”
Lev groaned. “God damn it, I hoped they were gone.”
Brand crossed his arms and tapped a foot impatiently.
Lev removed his glasses to rub his eyes. “If he’s going this far, he’s getting paid a lot to do it. My family might be bankrolling him.”
That was no surprise; Brand had already discussed the possibility with Sharaya that Lev came from Shareholders. It’d explain how he’d afforded an almost scarless top surgery, at least. Still, though...
“Why would they want you out of business?”
Lev threw up his hands. “Look, I left the family a long time ago. I don’t know what they want!” But as his hands fell slack, he admitted, “They’ve been trying to get me back ever since. For all I know, this is their latest idea, that if they just make things uncomfortable enough for me somehow, I’ll come home.”
“You fucking thirty-five.”
“Thirty-three, thank you, and yes, I know! I don’t know what they’re thinking; I’ve been actively trying not to. The whole reason I left was so I wouldn’t have to think about them anymore! I hoped becoming a borg and a craftsman would be enough to get them to leave me alone, but apparently not!”
That was exactly what Brand was hoping to hear. He smiled. “I can get rid of them for you.”
“With what money? I can’t pay you.”
Now Brand was grinning. “You don’t got to. Lightfire still thinks I’m working you over; your folks think there a chance in hell you’ll come back. They both loaded, right? That’s how come they can keep coming back for you. They gonna be the ones to pay me—and once they do, won’t be nothing left over to beat you with.”
Lev looked deeply doubtful, but also hopeful. “You... can do that?”
“Well, not on my own,” Brand admitted. “I’m gonna at least need my sister, Sharaya, and I’m gonna need you too, as the bait. You in? ‘Cause I can’t lie man, you ain’t the only one short on money here. I’m doing this ‘cause I like you, but also ‘cause I need the work.”
Lev was silent, conflict on his face. Whatever had happened with his family, he’d obviously been harangued for a long time, but also resigned to them never leaving him alone. Now Brand was giving him a chance. “You won’t hurt them?”
Well, if that was what Lev wanted. “Only financially.”
“And I’ll never have to deal with them again?”
“After the con? No.”
Lev sighed. “They’ve been after me for over a decade. What the hell, I’m in; Pinoko’s got to stay standing somehow.”
Lev reached out as though to shake on it, but Brand leaned forward to kiss him instead.
“You won’t regret this,” he promised.
“Keep kissing me like that and I won’t!”
And just like that, Brand was in business.
Notes: Lev uses a "Braille board" as his computer access--think a tablet that renders a computer display texturally and in Braille. In our world, they're ridiculously expensive and hard to get, but I like to think that for all its issues, they're more available in the Disabled Cyborgs world. That said, a Braille board is still inconvenient; a lot of people in the Disabled Cyborgs world have the equivalent of a smartphone/e-reader/computer wired into their heads, and a Braille board is a comparatively cumbersome piece of equipment. (The wealthy upper class don't use the brain implants--they're a leisure class, they don't NEED to have their workstation inside them, any more than they need to carry shovels and workboots around with them. It's a sign of status that other people can't call or ping them constantly.)
Series: Disabled Cyborgs/Durable Medical Equipment
Word Count: 4000
Summary: Levi Ibrahim and Brand Olajuwon have been involved for a while, but both are keeping secrets, and now they have a job to do.
Notes: This story comes after The Bionic Prosthetist, but you can follow what happens without it. It was sponsored by the Patreon crew! Special thanks goes to Lydean Kenzall for the pointers on the manufacturing of dildos, and also sending me down a rabbit hole of the disreputable business practices some companies get up to! More notes at the bottom.
When Brand arrived at Pinoko Prosthetics, he found Lev just coming out of his workshop, sleeves rolled up and wiping his hands clean on a damp rag.
“Perfect timing! I’ve got a few models for the hard rig you wanted. Tell me what you think?”
Part of Brand wanted to burst in and look immediately, but another part of him wanted to hang back. What if he hated everything he saw? And besides... “I ain’t got rid of Lightfire yet...”
But Lev shook his head and slung the washcloth over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. This is just the clay model, the cheap part.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup! Once I get the clay models right, I use that to make a silicone mold, which the rigs themselves are made from. So if none of these suit you, I’ll use them for the prefab market; they’ll surely suit someone else.”
That helped a little. Still, Brand felt weird going in to see dicks custom-sculpted for him. It felt like being naked somehow, even though he and Lev had been fucking for a couple weeks. He told himself that this was Lev’s job; surely he’d made so many dicks by now that it was nothing personal. Still, it felt personal.
Brand went in, and there on the work table were three erections made of plain gray clay. Lev had given him the choice as to whether he wanted the soft or the hard rig first, but seeing how Brand’s sex life was taking off lately, it hadn’t been hard to choose.
“Can I… touch them?”
“Sure, but gently; no squeezing!”
The first one, Brand immediately knew wasn’t right. Sure, it matched the specs he’d given—they all did—but this one had a prominent mushroom head and a ramrod straight angle, and the balls were too big, and just no. It wasn’t his. He didn’t even bother touching it; he didn’t want to.
The second was closer. He liked its taper better, and it seemed… fine? But that was it, just fine. Brand touched it, but the ambivalence didn’t ease.
He was just starting to wonder if he was being too picky when he saw the third, and yes. Yes. That was it! The curve and sweep of it, the veins, even the slight curve and asymmetry on the left side, all of it was right, and touching it made him ache.
He realized he was starting to stroke it lightly and hastily shoved his hands in his pockets. “That one. That’s it.”
“No adjustments?”
“Nah, just like it is. It’s perfect.”
And then he dragged Lev into the bedroom because even if that cock wasn’t attached to him yet, he could see it, feel it, and wanted to use it. Lev didn’t seem to mind at all.
But as Lev got on his knees to suck him off, Brand suddenly realized something: Lev had never asked for that himself.
“Here, let me do it this time--” Brand said.
“No thanks, this is fine,” Lev said, and Brand was too horny to protest it.
But once they’d come and Lev was snuggled into his shoulder, rosy on the bed, Brand found himself wondering. As far as he knew, Lev had never used one of his own rigs, or any rig at all. Hell, Brand still hadn’t seen what Lev had in his pants. For the past couple weeks, it’d seemed sensible enough—Brand had been the same way, until he’d gotten with Levi and no longer had to worry about being clocked—but now he was perplexed. Lev obviously knew his craft, had made a million sensate dicks. Why didn’t he use one?
Maybe he was one of those guys who felt fine with what he had? But then why hadn’t Brand ever seen or touched him, or seen him touching himself? Maybe a surgery had gone wrong, but that seemed unlikely too; Lev’s chest looked fantastic, barely any scarring at all. He’d obviously spent a lot of money for the best, but he only ever seemed to get off through the cord braided into the back of his skull; Brand was still idly toying with it.
“How come you don’t let me do that for you?” Brand asked.
Levi tensed. Brand kept petting him.
Finally, Lev said, “I like the wire better.”
Brand waited, but that was it. He tried coaxing. “Cause you made it yourself?”
“Mm.” Lev abruptly rolled away, got off the bed. “I forgot something. Work. Let me know if I’m too loud.”
“D’you want me to go?”
Lev’s back was to him, and for a moment, Brand thought he’d say yes, but then: “No. Your place is across town, and you need to talk with the customers in the morning. It’s fine.”
Clearly it wasn’t, but Brand didn’t protest. When he finally slid into sleep, somewhere past midnight, Lev was still in his workshop, sculpting with the lights off.
When Brand woke up, Levi was already gearing up for the morning’s customers, sweeping and organizing and taking out the trash. If he’d skipped sleep entirely, he didn’t show it, smiling and talking through his morning phone calls with his usual energy.
Since Lev didn’t own a coffee machine (he apparently ran on sheer enthusiasm), Brand darted over to Madame Nguyen’s for his morning caffeine, plus breakfast.
Madame Nguyen made the best pho in the area, but she seemed to loathe all humanity except for Lev. Her hatred for Brand had lessened some over the last couple weeks—maybe because he was helping keep Pinoko open—but this morning, her glare was back to full intensity. She served him his coffee and maple syrupy rice with raisins as though she didn’t want his money, and she said, “You asked him about the family, didn’t you?”
Brand raised his eyebrows at her.
“He was up before me, took out my trash. The only time he does that is if something,” or someone, her tone implied, “reminds him of the family.”
“That so?” Brand said neutrally. From what he’d seen, Madame Nguyen was the closest thing to a mother that Lev had ever mentioned or interacted with; he had apparently worked for her a while, and still did favors for her periodically.
Her glare sharpened. “He’s a good boy from a bad family. Don’t bother him about it.”
And then she was gone, off to hate the day’s noodles into submission. Brand said nothing, just stirred his rice and ate. It was delicious, but he barely noticed the flavors. He was busy thinking.
...
The job was simple. For two custom-made sensate cocks—soft and hard—Brand would get rid of the rival trying to ruin Lev’s business.
Brand doubted it’d be difficult; Dr. Lightfire didn’t have a whole lot of options left at this point. The local gangs had run off the Church of Humanity, and the local bureaucrats had a certain schedule they followed; Brand doubted they’d come out again until Lev’s paperwork gave an opening. Brand had already gone over that, and nothing was due for months.
No, Brand figured that Lightfire would just hire another tough guy—and only after Brand proved to be a failure. As far as Lightfire knew, Brand was still a devoted worker on the payroll, so that would give plenty of time for Brand to make friendly with the gangsters in Lev’s customer base. In this area of town, most of the local gangs had at least one borg among the ranks, and Levi was their one-stop shop for repairs. It meant his shop was one of the few neutral parts of town; they would probably take very unkindly to anyone trying to bully him out of business.
So all Brand had to do was eat his breakfast, go back to Pinoko Prosthetics, and just wait for the scheduled clients to come in.
Lev had arranged his appointments for just the occasion. The first client of the day was one of the Cougar bosses, due for a tune-up on her new arm. She was a huge, intimidating woman, but luckily in a very good mood. With Levi’s hands buried in her shoulder, she was practically a captive audience as Brand explained the situation.
Turned out he didn’t even need to try to get the Cougars to refuse Lightfire’s business.
“He works for the Shareholders,” the boss said with derision, “and he haggles. He can go fuck the high horse he rode in on.”
Lev tensed, then returned to his work. Brand pretended not to notice, but the Cougar looked down at him.
“Hon, what’ve you done to piss off a Shareholder lackey? Y’all don’t even have the same customers, do you?”
Levi muttered something about the wings and tails market, but he looked unsettled. Brand shelved it and focused on negotiating the Cougars’ cooperation. Lucky for him, the boss proved more than amenable.
“Hell, sure, I’ll let my pals know. My man here,” she gestured at Lev with her free hand, “he was the only one who listened when I complained of phantom pain. The only one! Everyone else, they told me, oh, they all do that, but not this guy here! He saw the problem, and he fixed it! I have a vested interest in his success.”
Of course, she negotiated Brand to be in her corner at a future date, but that was fine; it was something he needed to do anyway. Every street tough needed communities and allies and the more he had the better.
A couple other low-rankers from various other groups came in as the day progressed, but there wasn’t a whole lot Brand could do with them. They were small fish, so all he could really do was try to make nice in hopes of later working his way up the chain to talk to the people who actually ran things.
Finally, one of the middle-level Citizens came in after lunch.
The Citizen man was far different than the Cougar boss. He was small and slight, as opposed to her big and broad. She was tan, while he was dark as old recording tape. And while he looked somewhat familiar, he was as cold and aloof as a cat.
It wasn’t clear what Pinoko parts he had; they weren’t visible, and Lev was vague about the details. Whatever the appointment was for, it required one of the private exam rooms in the back, and Brand didn’t get a chance to talk until both men came out.
The Citizen straightened his tie and gave Brand a haughty look. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Brand was going to say no, until he noticed the blue rose in the Citizen’s lapel. Then he said, “I’m Brand Olajuwon.”
The man’s icy demeanor melted in a flash. “You’re one of Malaika’s?” He laughed. “Well, I’ll be! How is she? I thought she only--”
“I was in the back.”
It was total bullshit, but the old man thankfully bought it, and while Lev watched in astonishment, they commenced on a good long friendly conversation in the waiting room. Of course, manners dictated that Brand catch the old man up on all his mother’s doings and successes, and once they’d reaffirmed their ties (practically family), they got down to business. Though Brand wasn’t thrilled to have to bring up his mother, he had to admit that invoking her made the Citizen easy enough to negotiate with.
After the Citizen man and the customer after him left, giving them some space, Levi asked, “Lucian Roses-In-Bloom knows your mother?”
“They dated,” Brand explained. “He sent her some of them blue roses once.”
Lev’s eyes went wide. “What does your mother do?”
Brand sucked his teeth. “She in the family business.”
“So… a gangster?”
“Hacker. She run the Olajuwon girls with my seven sisters.”
“Seven?”
“Seven. She only take girls.”
The light went on. “Oh. I… I see your problem.”
“Yeah.” That wasn’t all of it, not really, but that was one conversation Brand really didn’t want to have. “I’m gonna go talk to Lightfire, feed him some bullshit, ‘less you got anyone else coming in I need to see.”
“Nope, that’s all for today. Thanks!”
Lightfire AdapTech was a good hour by the rail, and Brand fiddled away the time on his slider. He had messages from his mother and Sharaya, his closest sister. Despite himself, he read his mother’s first: “Thinking of you. Hope you’re well. I know you want space, but if you need anything...”
He sighed. He considered not answering, then wrote back: “Saw Lucian today. He looks good. Hope you’re doing well. Love.”
Sharaya, true to form, had sent multiple messages. There were pictures of her pet boa constrictor, who was now “2m long!!!! lol my baby grown” and her latest work project, which looked like a compression error: “they don’t photo well they liek gnats but they so goooood!! Miss u how the old town??? Ping meeeeee love S.”
Brand smiled, did a quick scan through his photos, and found one he’d taken of himself in front of a rack of Pinoko knee joints. He sent it to her with the words, “Guess where @?”
She responded instantly; unlike him, her phone was wired into her head, with the keyboard tattooed on her thighs. “??? Lil bro u sick???”
“Working.”
“!!!! Lil bro 1st solo job?! Do us prooooooooud!”
Brand smiled. Then he asked, “How’s mom?”
“U kno her she crazy worried over u. I tell her u 30 y/o, u can do it but she like noooooo mah bebe!! Made her promise no 1000000000 messages checkin on u a grownass man.” Then, “she tryin. U kno her.”
Brand sighed. He loved his mother, he truly did, but there was a reason he was trying to strike out on his own. But if Sharaya wasn’t worried, then he wouldn’t be either. He spent the remainder of the trip chatting back and forth with her about her snake, her gnatbots, and her girlfriend’s latest hair disaster.
Lightfire AdapTech was no less uncomfortable than it had been the first time Brand walked in. It was all steel and glass on the outside, sharing space with a bank, and on the inside it was all abstract art and beige, no clutter anywhere. It looked like a high-end plastic surgery clinic, which wasn’t far off from the truth.
Dr. Lightfire himself looked like Santa Claus after ten years in a fitness spa, with a full white beard, rosy cheeks, and twinkly blue eyes. He might’ve looked friendly to others, but Brand wasn’t impressed. He could smile at people paying him too.
And Lightfire was paying him, for the time being. To do something Brand had no intention of doing, but still, free money. So he sat in the plush chair on the other side of the big shiny desk and fed Lightfire a pack of lies about all the stuff he was doing to get Levi Ibrahim to shut down and do business elsewhere, sprinkled with just enough truth to be convincing.
Lightfire smiled and nodded, but seemed more interested in his computer, an old-fashioned desktop model that seemed to be the sole inhabitant of the enormous, immaculately clean desk.
“Well, that’s good, son, that’s just fine.”
Brand didn’t like anyone calling him “son,” but kept his smile on. “Something come up?”
“No, no, just pleased at the good news. If our friend at Pinoko can’t afford any more setbacks, I daresay we won’t have to worry about him much longer.”
That part had been one of the true things Brand had said. Dealing with Lightfire’s other cronies had about cleaned Levi out; it was why he was paying Brand in trade.
“He ain’t down yet,” Brand said.
“He will be,” Lightfire said with a merry chuckle, and rotated the display monitor Brand’s way. “Young man, do you know what this is?”
The screen showed the Lightfire AdapTech shop page, and at first, Brand saw nothing unusual about it; it had the exact same design as it had on the wall the first day Brand had walked in, the same products.
But then he saw that the prices had changed. They were now undercutting Levi’s.
“Even the most devoted clients have to take finances into consideration,” Dr. Lightfire said cheerfully. “I doubt Pinoko will manage. A shame.”
Brand kept his face on through habit, but inside, he froze. He’d planned for intimidation, coercion, threats; that was what he knew. But a price war, that he wasn’t prepared for. What could he do, for something like that? That was Shareholder shit, not Brand’s field at all…
He thought of the stream of gangsters, brokeasses, and public assistance folks who went to Pinoko, people who were only walking, working, and breathing because they had Lev’s work inside them. He thought about how the gangsters were the only ones with any money at all. He thought of the clay model in Lev’s workshop, so flawed and right and perfect.
“I need the bathroom,” he said.
Dr. Lightfire looked momentarily surprised, then said, “Of course. Down the hall, on your left.”
Once locked in the little cubicle (single-stall and unisex, since this was in the back of the building), Brand pulled out his slider and pinged Sharaya. He explained what he was doing, and what had happened.
Her response was instantaneous: “SHAREHOLDER BULLCRAP!!!!”
Well, good to see he wasn’t the only one thinking it.
Then she sent another message: “u been had???”
Brand thought about Lev, thought about his recent behavior. Lots of things weren’t adding up, and maybe it was his balls interfering with his brain, but Brand had a hard time believing Lev would try and cheat him. Lev was a lot of things, but he’d never shown any disingenuous sneakiness. As far as Brand could tell, Lev was exactly what he seemed to be: a small-time trans prosthetist who’d built a life for himself after something went wrong with his family.
“Don’t think so,” he finally replied.
Instantly: “GET OUT OF THERE!!!”
That was the smart thing to do. Brand wasn’t getting paid nearly enough to deal with crap like this. This job had clusterfuck written all over it.
But he remembered Lev’s mouth, and his smile, and how he made Brand feel good in his body, and that clay rig in the workshop. Until Lev gave him some kind of explanation, Brand wasn’t going to pull out. “Not yet.”
“U CRAZY?!!” But then, “fine bro sending u program put it in LF comp and ill see what I can do NO PROMISES!!!”
“Thx big sis,” he wrote, and then the program arrived in his inbox.
Which led to the next question: how to get Lightfire out of his office long enough for Brand to get his hands on that dinosaur on the desk. No matter how pleasant and old-fashioned the doctor acted, he probably wouldn’t leave a career tough guy like Brand alone for long unless an emergency came up.
Brand looked up. Every time he’d been here, there’d been women receptionists, and this was a unisex bathroom. There was a little trashcan inside, and when he checked it, he lucked out: it was crammed full of old tampons and pads.
The first time Brand had gotten his period, he’d been twelve, horrified, and stupid. He’d tried to get rid of the evidence, with disastrous effect. Brand remembered, and he grinned. Then he emptied the entire trashcan into the toilet, gave the mess some time to saturate (and used the commode in the process), then flushed it.
The results were just what he expected: the thing clogged and overflowed.
Brand sauntered back to Lightfire’s office and affected a look of minor chagrin and disgust. “Uh, sorry man, but the head’s overflowing.”
It worked. Lightfire rushed out, and the moment he was gone, Brand had his slider out and plugged in. Within a few minutes, he had Sharaya’s program where it needed to be, and his phone was back in his pocket in plenty of time before Lightfire came back. By that point, the good doctor was as eager for the meeting to be over as Brand was, though he didn’t seem to suspect him of wrecking the plumbing on purpose.
Brand felt a little sorry for the receptionists who’d surely be blamed, but no help for it; whatever he did about this job, he didn’t want to have to go it alone. Within short time, he was back on the rail, texting Sharaya to get the plan together.
By the time he arrived at Pinoko, he felt ready. Lev was just closing down, sweeping and straightening things, but he straightened up when he heard Brand come in. “I didn’t expect to see you back.”
Brand pulled up a chair and pointed to another. “Sit.”
Apparently his tone broached no argument. Lev sat.
“You seen Lightfire’s shop page yet?”
Lev’s lips twisted and he tapped his goggles. “I can’t see it at all. My Braille board can’t read it.”
Brand ended up having to pull out his phone and read the shop page aloud. Before even half the prices were read off, Lev’s face was in his hands.
“This ain’t business,” Brand said when finished. “This costing him money. You barely even competing; you sell to gangs and brokeasses, not Shareholders. What’s his beef with you?”
Lev groaned. “God damn it, I hoped they were gone.”
Brand crossed his arms and tapped a foot impatiently.
Lev removed his glasses to rub his eyes. “If he’s going this far, he’s getting paid a lot to do it. My family might be bankrolling him.”
That was no surprise; Brand had already discussed the possibility with Sharaya that Lev came from Shareholders. It’d explain how he’d afforded an almost scarless top surgery, at least. Still, though...
“Why would they want you out of business?”
Lev threw up his hands. “Look, I left the family a long time ago. I don’t know what they want!” But as his hands fell slack, he admitted, “They’ve been trying to get me back ever since. For all I know, this is their latest idea, that if they just make things uncomfortable enough for me somehow, I’ll come home.”
“You fucking thirty-five.”
“Thirty-three, thank you, and yes, I know! I don’t know what they’re thinking; I’ve been actively trying not to. The whole reason I left was so I wouldn’t have to think about them anymore! I hoped becoming a borg and a craftsman would be enough to get them to leave me alone, but apparently not!”
That was exactly what Brand was hoping to hear. He smiled. “I can get rid of them for you.”
“With what money? I can’t pay you.”
Now Brand was grinning. “You don’t got to. Lightfire still thinks I’m working you over; your folks think there a chance in hell you’ll come back. They both loaded, right? That’s how come they can keep coming back for you. They gonna be the ones to pay me—and once they do, won’t be nothing left over to beat you with.”
Lev looked deeply doubtful, but also hopeful. “You... can do that?”
“Well, not on my own,” Brand admitted. “I’m gonna at least need my sister, Sharaya, and I’m gonna need you too, as the bait. You in? ‘Cause I can’t lie man, you ain’t the only one short on money here. I’m doing this ‘cause I like you, but also ‘cause I need the work.”
Lev was silent, conflict on his face. Whatever had happened with his family, he’d obviously been harangued for a long time, but also resigned to them never leaving him alone. Now Brand was giving him a chance. “You won’t hurt them?”
Well, if that was what Lev wanted. “Only financially.”
“And I’ll never have to deal with them again?”
“After the con? No.”
Lev sighed. “They’ve been after me for over a decade. What the hell, I’m in; Pinoko’s got to stay standing somehow.”
Lev reached out as though to shake on it, but Brand leaned forward to kiss him instead.
“You won’t regret this,” he promised.
“Keep kissing me like that and I won’t!”
And just like that, Brand was in business.
Notes: Lev uses a "Braille board" as his computer access--think a tablet that renders a computer display texturally and in Braille. In our world, they're ridiculously expensive and hard to get, but I like to think that for all its issues, they're more available in the Disabled Cyborgs world. That said, a Braille board is still inconvenient; a lot of people in the Disabled Cyborgs world have the equivalent of a smartphone/e-reader/computer wired into their heads, and a Braille board is a comparatively cumbersome piece of equipment. (The wealthy upper class don't use the brain implants--they're a leisure class, they don't NEED to have their workstation inside them, any more than they need to carry shovels and workboots around with them. It's a sign of status that other people can't call or ping them constantly.)
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