The Things I Do For Gertie - Flash Dystopian Fiction 500 Entry

This is my entry for the #chronocrypto-dystopian Flash Dystopian Fiction 500 Contest.

The Things I Do For Gertie

"Meat is murder."

The woman is staring daggers at me and my pastrami sandwich.

Gotta love those vegan types.

"Lady", I tell her between two large bites, "murder is what I do for a living. Can I get back to my sandwich now?"

She looks at me as if I spoke something unintelligible. They always do; they'd rather convince themselves they misheard or something. Gotta love the power of denial, too.

I bite a large piece of deli meat and chew it with my mouth wide open, just to piss her off. She gives me the finger and walks away, grumbling.

I chuckle and check my watch. T minus two minutes. Crap, I'm running late.

I wolf down the rest of my sandwich, almost choking in the process. I take out a can of Omnifabric and spray dark grey fabric all over me, neck to toes. Water soluble spandex-in-a-can. I look ridiculous. On the bright side, it affords me anonymity.

I put on a full face helmet and hop onto my Yamaha MT-12. I say "my", but it's, of course, stolen. As if I could afford such an expensive bike. No, I'll be driving home in my old station wagon once this is over.

I step on it and thunder through the lunch break traffic. It's T minus one now, I'm cutting it too close.

The target is going to be at Vic's. Fat lady, early fifties, bombastic hairdo. I've dubbed her Vera. It's as good a name as any. She's probably going to be waiting in line for her daily dose of quintessential New York street food, wishing her lunch break was longer.

Well, I can help with that. In fact, she won't be going back to her office anytime soon. Or, like, ever.

I can see Vic's. I slow down and scan the crowd of office people. There's Vera, holding a dirty water dog in each hand and waiting to cross the street.

It's show time.

I activate my wired reflexes and the world slows down almost to a halt. I pull out my handgun, carefully point it at Vera's head, and pull the trigger twice. Pop, pop. Goodbye Vera, it was nice not knowing you.

I don't even wait to see her fall. I know I shot straight, so what's the point? I got a getaway to make.

I speed up and zigzag through traffic, running red light after red light. At some point, I toss my handgun in a small park fountain. It's a 3D-printed water-soluble disposable. It goes up in thousands of bubbles, like an effervescent tablet.

As I ride away, a notification pops up on my HUD: the funds just got transferred to my account.

Good.

I feel kind of bad for Vera, I do. But then I picture Gertie giving me her lopsided smile, showing off the new braces Vera's money are going to buy her, and it all goes away.

I look out for my kid. So sue me.

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