Why You Were Taken by JT Lawrence Page B

early-onset Alzheimers. She hadn’t been diagnosed, but the symptoms of dementia had begun presenting themselves the year before, and were increasing in frequency. Kirsten pictured the disease as a whey-coloured cotton wool cloud over her mother’s head (Cirrus Nest). As with most issues, her parents hadn’t liked to talk about it.
      ‘Surely you must get it? This is my chance to find my missing part. Besides, it’s not just for me, it’s for us. It will be helpful to know my biological mother’s medical history, it might help us figure out our … fertility issues.’
      ‘We don’t have fertility issues,’ he says.
      ‘Are you being serious? We’ve been trying for years.’
      ‘That’s normal, nowadays.’
    This makes Kirsten furious. She feels like upending the table, smashing plates. Instead she just sits and fixes her glare on James. A frozen veil descends between them.
      ‘I feel the hope, too,’ says James. ‘And the disappointment. I want a baby as much as you do.’
      ‘Bullshit,’ she says, although she knows it hurts him.
      ‘Look, the less you worry about it –’
    Kirsten curls her hands into fists.
      ‘Less worry is not an option currently on the table. Please choose another fucking option.’
    The chicken truffle with cocoa-chilli reduction and green peppercorn brittle arrives. It is beautifully presented but Kirsten is raging inside and can’t imagine she can swallow any of it.
      ‘Look,’ she says, pushing her chair back. ‘I’m meeting Kex for drinks tonight. I’m going to go.’
      ‘Kitty, please don’t be like this.’
    She stands up. ‘I’ll see you later.’
     
     
    *                  *                  *
     
     
    Seth leaves the Fontus building at 20:30. He is enjoying the actual work of the new job, the flavour-mapping and production process modelling, it’s like grinding at Disney World after the serious chemical engineering he did at Pharmax. Plus they have everything you could possibly want on the campus: a gym, a spa, a drycleaner, a download-den, communal bikes, restaurants, a (mostly empty) childcare centre, a virtual bowling alley, a Lixair chamber, SleepPods, all complimentary for staff. They even have wine tasting and book club evenings. Golf days, gaming nights. Infertility support groups. Overnight accommodation. The huge property is not dissimilar to a full-board holiday resort. It’s as if they don’t want their employees to leave the premises. Seth is surprised that they don’t run a matchmaking service to keep all the creeps in the family. Or a brothel.
    The employees themselves seem to be extremely clean-cut: professionally dressed, well-groomed, clear skinned. Not a lot of individual style -- no Smudge or ink in sight. Certainly no recreational drugs as far as he could tell.
    The Weasel is turning out to be even more of a pesticle than expected, literally leaning over his shoulder as he works. He finds it difficult to be constructive when he’s being watched, especially by a bag of dicks. He needs to experiment and play around, and this includes swapping and swerving in between a host of different programs and apps, and you can’t do that when you have those watery eyes glued to your screen.
    Worse still, it makes it almost impossible to do his real job – his Alba job – the reason he is here is in the first place. Seth feels a hot rush of irritation, almost anger; he needs to blow off some steam. He has a cocaine drop, his third for the day, and decides to head to the SkyBar.
     
     
    *                  *                  *
     
     
    Kirsten catches a tuk-tuk for the short ride into the inner city. She has the feeling that someone is watching her, and keeps looking over her shoulder for James, thinking he must have followed her out of Molly Q’s, but each time she thinks she hears something, or sees movement out of the corner of her eye, there is no one