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a call center or a service center job. They’re the kind of clients that all want to chip in for one session in the DFR. I refuse their drink politely, say I have to powder my nose and catch the eye of a Ravana on the other side of the bar. I nod at him slightly, make my way over.
    His costume is nicer than the ones I usually see. He’s wearing a thick crown that projects holograms of Ravana’s ten heads on either side of his own face. He’s wrapped smartly in what looks like real high quality red synthetic, in fact, it almost looks like silk.
    “How you doing?” I yell over the crowd.
    “What’re you drinking?” He yells back.
    “Whatever you’re having, your highness.”
    While he’s dealing with the bartender, I look out at the crowd. The club is full. I check out the VIP sections and see the regulars. The Russians with their Filipino wives—they never come in costume, just sit behind their laser ropes and wavy smokescreen and get bottle service all night. Then there’s the older Mexicanmen, who look ridiculous in their designer costumes, like they don’t know exactlywhat they are supposed to be doing but they know it’s hip, sipping on their elixirs in rough hewn wooden cups. One time, Val brought one over to me and when we went into the DFR he got so freaked out by the scene, he ran out without paying and Val blamed me for not taking the client along on the ride with me. I think he meant I should have just rubbed one out for him.
    The Ravana, whose skinis dark, so I think maybe he’s Nicoya, hands me the Brahma Elixir. It’s the most expensive one we serve. I wonder what illegal way he makes his money, and wish I could ask him. The way he’s dressed, he probably runs some kind of border trade, most likely people. I reach inside my blouse and set the transform timer.
    “So, what do you do?” I ask, fishing for whether he wants to play this traditionalor modern.
    “What do you mean? You don’t know who I am?” he says, his holograms flashing their demon teeth at me.
    “Oh, of course I do, King Ravana,” I bow before him. The Ravana clients are usually perverts, because the story gets twisted into some dirty incest thing. I keep telling Val that we should employ all the char acters. The Ravanas would have a field day with a Sita abduction roomwhere we could have a flying chariot. “I am just a maiden wandering along the Godavari River, picking flowers for my hair. Would you like to accompany me on my path?”
    He nods and I take his thick hand and weave into the dance floor. I dance in front of him for awhile before he begins to move. He does the un-rhythmic dance of someone too thick with muscle. I smile at him and he grabs me by thewrist and painfully turns me around, holding my arm against my chest and groping at my breasts. I elbow him off of me but he grabs a hold of my waist and grinds into my ass instead. I elbow him again but itmakes him grab me even tighter and I surrender to his breath in my ear. Luckily, the timer goes off and I turn around violently.
    “Ravana, don’t you recognize me?” I scream, ripping offmy blonde wig and skullcap and letting my thick black hair tumble out. “It is I, Surpanakha, your demonness sister!”
    The people dancing around us cheer and point, I smear off my face makeup and release my body-altering suit and Ravana’s face twists in disgust.
    “Vamanos,” he says roughly.
    I lead him through the crowd, hissing and spitting at any Sita I see, to their delight.
    In theDFR, I type in “Ravana”, and make sure the security monitor is on. Even though I have full reign to do whatever I want and the client can only use the hologram swords, it doesn’t mean that they don’t try it. Once everything is activated, I get up on the pedestal and scream and pound my chest.
    “Ravana, brother, I was disguised because I no longer want to be a demon like you, you disgust me!”I hiss and kick at his head.
    He stares at me blankly. I point to the dialogue generator