Read New York Nights [Virex 01] for Free Online Page B

lurch.
     
    Oh, Christ. . .
     
    And he was falling. It happened too fast for him to understand that he was dead, that he could not survive a fall from a height of twenty, thirty metres, but the knowledge of his failure swept through him like a wave. Geared to think only of survival, his animal brain was denied any option, and howled at the fact of its extinction.
     
    Then he hit something, something soft. He seemed to bounce, roll, pain shooting through his torso and limbs, but not terminal pain. He was tumbling down a pile of something, and only later did he work out what had saved his life: garbage, bagged in polycarbon-weave sacks and awaiting the next collection.
     
    He dropped again, a short distance this time. He yelled as he was deposited from the piled garbage. He struck the ground with a breathtaking impact. He tried to climb to his feet, but succeeded only in rolling onto his back. He lay moaning, barely conscious, staring up at the bright scatter of stars. Something warm was trickling into his eyes, which he realised must be blood. He found himself wondering how he might die - from loss of blood, or from exposure to the sub-zero temperature? - before he finally, blissfully, passed out.
     
    * * * *
     

Three
     
     
    Anna Ellischild finished the last scene of the holoscript and emailed the pages to her producer over at Tidemann’s Holo-Productions.
     
    She ordered the TrueVoc program to shut down, pushed her swivel chair away from the desk and stretched, yawning. At Christmas, Sapphic Island had been a hit in holo-auditoriums all across the country, and Tidemann’s had offered her a new, improved contract for a further six episodes. She’d dictated the second series in record time, around three hours per script, and told herself that three hours was probably too long to be spending on such shit.
     
    The screen chimed and her producer, Felicity, smiled out, waving fingers. ‘Just read the last scene, Anna. Loved it. Liked the conflict. Great cliffhanger. Sasha is developing into a wonderful character. A true heroine for our time.’ She drew breath. ‘But what did you think about the sex scene?’
     
    Here it comes, Anna thought. The old ‘love it, sweetie, but. . .’ proviso.
     
    She remembered Felicity’s response to reading the very first script of Sapphire Island - as it was then - a year ago. ‘Absolutely loved the script, Anna. But don’t you think the title lacks a little ... I don’t know, specificity?’
     
    It had become a joke amongst Anna’s writer friends. ‘Don’t you think this scene lacks a little . . . specificity?’
     
    Anna had responded with, ‘Do you mean it needs to be less subtle? How about Raging Dykes on Dildo Party Island?’
     
    Her producer had blown her a sweet kiss. ‘Think not, Anna. How about Sapphic Island?’
     
    Which was almost as bad as her joke title. But she who pays the ferry woman . . . Sapphic Island it had become. And, to Felicity’s credit, she’d allowed Anna a pretty free rein with the script.
     
    Perhaps only about fifty per cent of her original work was altered in production . . .
     
    Now Anna lodged her legs on the swivel chair and hugged her shins, staring at Felicity from between her knees. ‘The sex scene?’ she said. ‘Well, I was deliberately keeping it low-key. This is the fifth episode, after all. We don’t want to pre-empt the orgy in episode six.’
     
    Sometimes she had to stop herself from laughing when taking part in script conferences with Felicity and the other luvvies over at Tidemann’s.
     
    Felicity was saying, ‘But surely in this situation, Sasha would demand cunnilingus from Amanda and Jo - we should explicitly intimate that it’s going on, even if the cameras don’t dwell. . .’
     
    How, Anna thought, does one ‘explicitly intimate’ anything?
     
    ‘Felicity, Sasha doesn’t even care for Jo. She’s only invited her around to ingratiate herself in order to get the job.’
     
    ‘In that case how