“I still like to watch her fix stuff,” said Pele, glancing sidelong at Helix. “What about you?”

“Me? What?”

“Do you like watching her? She’s a nice girl you know, but fickle.”

Helix looked at Pele in confusion, she was going to ask her what fickle was, but she got distracted by Pele’s appearance. “You go to the Eastern Market, to sell stuff.”

“All the time.”

“You see a lot of people.”

“If I’m lucky.”

“How do you deal with... with-”

Pele smiled. “With this?” She waved her hand at her skin, her hair. “I don’t ever really think about it, unless someone reminds me. I get that sometimes, from people who don’t know me. They always ask me the same thing, ‘Are you white or black?’ They really don’t mean anything by it, they’re just surprised, and they say the first thing that comes into their heads. I don’t take it to heart, you know? In the end, they have to deal with who I am, not what I look like.”

oOo

Chango traded Pele the DataKleen for a cube of holotoys and collected a carton of reefers for fixing the truck. “See?” she said to Helix in the car, “this is how it works. You get by.”

“Where are we going now?”

“We’ll go to Hannah’s. I’m hungry.”

“Who’s Hannah?”

"Hannah's Eclectic Homestyle Restaurant. It’s been around for ages. Used to be a Polish place but back around 19 or 20 it got bought by Hannah and her husband Ricky. Hannah just started cooking whatever came to mind with whatever was at hand. Menu changed constantly. Her daughter Rita runs it now. Food's still pretty good, but Hannah, man... Well they say Rita's daughter Gabrielle has the touch, and she's almost sixteen. She'll be out of school soon." Chango shrugged. "One can hope." The Eclectic Homestyle Restaurant was housed in a brown brick building with a peaked cornice and blue tiles set in at the corners of the doorway. Chango led the way under a red awning and flung open the door. Helix followed her into a large, bright room filled with tables and chairs, humid with the smells of food and loud with the chatter of voices and the rattle of silverware. "Hey Chango!" cried a voice over the din. In the far corner of the dining room a bald young man waved vigorously at them.

"Magnusson," Chango murmured as they wound their way between the tables, "one of my very best buddies." As they got to the table Chango reached across it and snagged a sausage off of his plate.

"Hey!" he protested but Chango only chortled gleefully and ate it, waving her burned fingertips. "Magoo," she said, ushering Helix into the seat across from him, and sitting beside her, "meet Helix. Helix, this is -"

"Magnusson," he interjected, leaning forward and extending a broad, flat hand. Her fingers brushed the back of it as they shook. His skin was smooth. He had a round head and a round, pudgy body. He was not only bald, she noticed. He didn't have any eyebrows or facial hair either. That’s why his skin felt so smooth. He didn't have any hair at all.

"Nice to meet you," said Helix, suddenly realizing with a twinge that she was staring at him. His eyes were pale, pale grey, colorless, but not red. He looked like a grown up baby.

"Magoo cooks here. He's gonna get us free lunches, right Magoo?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, long as you don't mind taking my bus shift tonight."

"Bus shift? You're still doing dishes nights? I thought Rita said she'd put you on prep." Magnusson shrugged, "Sure, she said it. But now I'm doing lunch rush 'cause Octavio got sick, and meanwhile, they still need busers at night. So, I'm busing."

"That sucks. She promised you."

He snorted, "C'mon, nobody believes promises, not from an employer, right?" Chango nodded acknowledgment. "It still sucks," she added.

"Yeah, well, it can only be so bad you know. I ain't divin'," he softly nodded his head towards a group of five seated in a booth on the other wall. Tank harnesses hung off of their lean, divesuited bodies. Hard men and women, mostly older than them but there were a few with eyes it seemed already darkened at the sight of death, though it stood for them, probably thirty, even forty years away. They were an animated group, smoking and laughing and living it up, partying at the end of their shift. But death hung around them like a cloud of smog that ground its darkness right into their pores so that they seemed steeped in something. Something that would slowly curl around the double helix of their DNA and twist it, twist them, into something else. Helix found herself searching their faces, trying to find beneath the angled planes of skin the shape they would become.“Why do they do it?” she asked, “if it’s so dangerous?”

“For the money.” said Magnusson.

“Most of them only plan to dive for five years, take their pay and get someplace where the living is cheap,” said Chango. “Only sometimes they find that five years isn’t enough, sometimes they find that nothing is enough.”

One of the vatdivers — a tall, dark-haired man — glanced over at them and detached himself from the group. “Oh no, it’s Benjamin,” grumbled Magnusson under his breath.

He approached their booth with quick strides of his long, lean legs. His vatleather jacket, still new, crinkled stiffly as he leaned over the table. "How's it going over here?" he asked. He had hard, bright blue eyes.

"Hi Benny," said Chango, "What's new with you?"

“Not much, just snagging goobers.” He slid into the booth opposite Chango and Helix. Grumbling, Magnusson slid his plate over and made room. Benny reached a hand towards his sausages, but he brandished a fork at him. “Back off, man,” he snarled.

Laughing, Benny rested his chin in his hands and looked at Helix. “So, you’re the new girl, huh? Nice to meet you.”

Helix nodded and leaned closer to Chango, “Hi,” she said, her voice cracking. She felt her face grow warm.

“I heard you ran into a spot of trouble,” said Benny, “how are your ribs?"

"Much better, thanks."

"She heals fast," said Chango.

“So how do you like Vattown?”

“It’s nice,” Helix said, “it smells good.”

They all stared at her.

“I’ve heard this place get called a lot of things,” said Magnusson, “but good smelling, never.”

“Yeah, top on most peoples grudge list about Vattown is the reek of the growth medium.” said Benny.

“You really like it?”

Helix shrugged, “Yeah, it smells... warm.”

“Mmm,” Benny grunted, then turned to the others, “You hear about the new hiring requirements?” he asked.

“What, you have to be seven feet tall and blond now? I’d think they’d be happy to get anybody they can, these days,” said Chango.

“That’s just it, they are. They’ve just loosened up the genetic requirements, so first generation mutations are okay.”

“What?” said Magnusson.

“You heard it, they’re hiring sports now. Of course they’ll be classified temporaries, so the company can get around giving them benefits, including health insurance.”

“Fucking company,” said Chango, “this is why we need a union, Benny, to keep them from getting away with crap like this.”

“I’ve never argued with that, Chango.”

“No, you just won’t do anything about it.”

“Aw give it a rest already, would you? If you’re so keen on the movement, become a vatdiver and form one. You can, now.”

“I’m not going to throw my life away for a bunch of people who won’t even help themselves.”

“My feeling exactly,” said Benny.

“Where would you go, to apply?” asked Helix.

“Are you serious?” asked Benny.

“No,” said Chango. “She’s not. You’re not serious.”

“I was just wondering. He said they were hiring, and I need a job so... What is it like, diving?” she asked Benny.