The Wages of Sihnon

Several Dances - pt 1

The Great wall of Sihnon was also a city in itself - broad and straight for the main then unexpectedly narrow and winding. Every section however was uniformly crowded and dusty - filled with traffic, pedestrian, vehicle and animal, thronging their way, this way and that, among the many market-stall kiosks, recessed offices, shops and never ending parades. Despite the choking dust that scoured everything, the wall seemed in eternal celebration of its own existence - from the tiny flags, lining the steps of buildings and fluttering from the roofs of the yellow and blue hover-taxis, to the ostentatious dress of the wall security force, to the faded festival posters slapped on every surface, to the raucous yammering of motor-horns and the clashing gongs and drums of the parades.

“You got any HeadEze?” Radha Brook inquired of the Irritable Detective, himself downing two large pills. He looked, for once, apologetic - the elaborate quiff of his blue-black hair drooping in sympathy and his wide mouth turned down. “Sorry,” he said, “just these. I don’t know from headaches but the wind’s just murder on my sinuses.”

The two of them were sat in a cramped projector room in the offices of the shuttle port, squashed uncomfortably close together in the mistaken belief that opening the shuttered square window would let in some air.

“Gorram air conditioning”, the man added unnecessarily, he had removed his quilted jacket revealing an electric blue shirt decorated on the back with a pair of golden dragons. He smelt heavily of aftershave. "You couldn't finagle a better viewing suite?"

"This is more discreet," Radha said "doesn't get used much but for watching training films and the occasional office party frolic."

"Huh," muttered Yip.

"We are strictly off the record."

The Irritable Detective wriggled around to face her. "But who would really give a hump?" he asked.

Radha answered the question with a question. “You spent much time on the Rim, Detective?”