|1: Jack Baby
||[Oct. 29th, 2007|02:37 pm]
|||||burial album preview mixed by kode9||]|
I dipped the old jar down into the creeping slurry and scooped a pint of shit-water out of the Thames, down where the sewers meet the river. It's come to this, I said to no-one: making jenkem rather than seeing the Jack Baby.
Seal up the jar, watch it ferment for long sleepless days, and then inhale the gas off the top. Jenkem: ghetto drugs. An hour of laying like a corpse and seeing dead things instead of the orgasm-jerking and spacewalk day of a Jack high. But I couldn't afford Jack, and I didn't want to think about the Jack Baby.
Jack was a bastard brew of neurotransmitters and genetic plug-ins, the black market product of universities that wanted to keep the power on. Addictive and deep-tissue-persistent enough that, like crack before it, Jack babies were born. But they weren't just thin and sickly. Jack was bound into their genetic structure. Narcotophores pulsed under their grey skins, tiny little Jack labs.
The things we choose to care about. Not getting clean, but huffing shit-gas instead of seeing her.
Squatting under the jagged stump of the bridge, I twisted the jar shut, willing the muck inside to do its stinking magic. Dreading the sleepless days of waiting, where I knew I'd see nothing but my grown-up Jack Baby, letting men make her sweat so they could lick the Jack from her pores.
The things we choose to care about: I could live with her being a whore, but I couldn't stand her being someone else's fix.
do not post your fiction in comments
© warren ellis 2007
music: The4am 05
book: crooked little vein
be gentle: i'm out of practise!
Well, given designer drugs, and the current state of gene therapy medicine, this is a future that COULD happen, 15, 20, 30 years from now.