We made our way out into the alley behind the apartment building and out into the screenlit underbelly of Marash. I'll kinda miss that. A billion screens, day and night, all mumbling a different story. Ads, community announcements, personals, grafiti. Some of them had holo's leaping out of them, some had stim-emitters so you could taste the shop food or smell the detergent as you pass by. They fell away behind us by the thousands in the few blocks between our place and Phaa's, a transcendant sensational blur pulling us along to our fated destination. It probably helps that I'm perpetually spun.
Phaa is our resident backalley surgeon. Damn good too, comes from a species of lovable fungal cloud puffs. Their discreet cells cling together via a vast net of fine dendridic threads. They look almost too delicate to be persistant, just a floating mass of glowing whisps. They're also historically carnivores, owing to an uncomfortably fine control over their tiny individual bits, a capacity to generate both a glorious array of bioluminescent color patterns and a staggering variety of complex compounds to be released in spores. Fortunately, two out of three of those also make Phaa a Cutter to be reckoned with. I'd be down a leg or two if not for zir ministrations. Plus, nothing beats a hypnotic lightshow and a solid body high during complex medical procedures.

The End

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