It's not that Cody was such a close friend, really. I just ended up hanging out with him because he kept asking me, and I usually didn't have much else to do on campus. Besides, everyone seemed to think he was cool, which gave me some kind of status by proxy, I suppose. When I got in his car, he held up his cash card.

"Cashed out a couple of my pharmaco mutual funds."

"How much?"

"Forty Kil."

"Are you sure about this?"

He tossed the brochure to me. I saw the picture of the girl he had circled. Gloria Pell. Nineteen years old, convicted of selling, hooking without a license, and e-cash counterfeiting: sentenced to two years to the highest bidder. Guaranteed to be drug free, but then you can't always believe the trader hype.

"I'm gonna have her every damn night, my friend!"

"What about Kayla?"

"I'm through with Kayla and her rules and her baby ass and all that damn whining."

"You guys broke up?"

"I got tired of her shit."

"I liked her. I thought she was nice."

He put a cigarette in his mouth, pulled a plastic lighter out of his shirt pocket and flicked it's weak spark five times until he was able to get just enough flame. He threw the used up lighter out the car window and said, "She's too nice. No sense of adventure."

I looked back down to the picture of the young con for sale. "You're not even gonna get her. She'll go for at least a hundred thousand, easy."

"No way, her ass is mine. I'll even lend it to you now and then, if you kiss mine."

"No thanks."

* * *

They sold off the lifers first. They always went to the big companies who could afford their high price and had the facilities to keep them in check. Owning a lifer was better in some ways than a short timer, because you didn't have to worry about keeping up their health -- you could outright kill a lifer, no problem -- but you also had to deal with keeping some filthy child-killer or such trash in your home.

The first lifer was about fifty years old. You could see in his eyes he wasn't right. He wore an orange cloak that was tied around his chest and waist, pinning his arms to his side. The leg shackles chinked in a slow steady rhythm, echoing in the small courthouse room as he stepped up onto the flimsy wooden dais.

He had set off a bomb in a store, injuring twenty people and killing a teacher and a young boy. No one bid enough to even pay for the debt of his room and board through the trial. This was this third offering, so he was simply ordered destroyed.

The next lifer was a woman who had fought with her younger sister a little too savagely, causing her to fall off a third story balcony. I remembered hearing about her in the local news the previous week. She was bought by an agent of Paramount Apparel, no doubt to work twelve hour days for the rest of her life in front of a sewing machine.

The first short-timer was a fellow about our age, convicted of selling stolen net-time in the dregs.

"Three years you can get for this one, ladies and gentlemen, and I'll bet you'll get equity. He'll get you good resale after he's broken in."

He had the hunched over, pale look of a coffin-jacker, and I figured he had an implant somewhere under his unkempt, greasy hair. His hands were shackled in front of his yellow button down shirt. He stood still, with his eyes closed.

The auctioneer started his patter. The bidding was slow.

"Oh, come on folks, the announcer said, interrupting the bidding. Surely someone has a dog they need walked. He may not look like much, but he's smart. He's docile. He'll keep your house clean and your computers in top shape, that's for sure."

He finally went for seven thousand to an older fellow, who gave him to his daughter and her husband as a wedding present.

Gloria Pell was brought out next. She was beautiful. Long dark hair fell softly over her shoulders, partially hiding a haggard look of forced dignity. The auctioneer started immediately, calling all around the room until the bidding got up to the twenty thousand range and began to slow down a bit.

Cody was jumping an extra hundred on every bid he heard. There was a pause while Cody held the last bid at thirty two thousand. A man called out from the other side, "Let me see her."

A few bidders went to the front. Gloria's shirt was pulled over her head and down along her arms to cover her shackled hands. Her pants were pushed down to the floor and the questioner looked at her legs, arms, and stomach. She lowered her head, letting her hair obscure a clenched jaw until the announcer pulled her head one way and another and encouraged Cody and the others to examine her neck, teeth, breasts.

"Thirty three", said the other man.

"Thirty four."

"Forty."

Cody paused, then said, "Forty five."

"Fifty."

He agonized for a moment, not wanting to let her fall through his fingers, not wanting to give in to the older man. Finally, he made some internal decision and said, "Sixty five."

The other man grinned, and said, "Sixty seven."

Cody caught my eye, perhaps expecting me to want to throw in some money to help him out. I turned away and heard him say, "Sixty eight."

"Seventy."

"The bid is Seventy thousand dollars, ladies and gentlemen. Is there another bid."

From the crowd came a bid, from someone who had been waiting for the other man to eliminate Cody.

"Eighty-five."

"Ninety."

The two kept leap frogging each other while Cody came back to me and sulked. As the bidding went higher and higher, Gloria seemed to sprout a little smile mixed with her shame. I guess some things never change. She finally went for one hundred forty five thousand to the man to had asked to have her undressed.

The next and last one was a forty year old grandmother, arrested for involuntary manslaughter of two men after she fell asleep at the wheel and crossed over the median on an old manual highway. She was sentenced to ten years. Cody bought her for forty eight thousand, right in front of her sobbing husband, who, of course, wasn't allowed to bid.

* * *

I heard someone call my name.

Kayla came up and walked with me, carrying her oversized valise that was filled with her art supplies and drawings.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Sure. He hasn't called for a while. I just shouldn't have let it go on so long. I guess it's as much my fault as it is his."

"No, Kayla. I don't believe that."

"Is it true what I heard?"

"Yeah. He's an owner."

"I don't know what he told you about why we broke up, but ..."

"It's okay. I think you did the right thing."

"Oh, shit, look."

Cody saw the two of us and walked over. His slave hurried behind, carrying his backpack, staring at the ground.

"Are you two happy together?" Kayla asked, with exaggerated sarcasm.

"We are now, after slave relations came over. Seems she didn't quite know the rules. They beat her pretty good for me. So, yeah, things are fine now."

"Are you proud of that?"

"Hey, it wasn't my choice. I just said I was having trouble with her and they knew what to do."

"Do you make her do ... those things?"

He leaned in close to her and said, "Whenever I want. You better just stay on the good side of the law little miss muffet, or it'll be your turn."

"Back off, Cody," I said, pushing him away from Kayla with my forearm."

He stepped back, looked back and forth at the two of us and nodded slowly. "I see. Okay. Fine."

"Look, Cody, I don't think we need to hang out together anymore. Okay?"

"I thought you wanted a piece of her ass too. Just say the word and ..."

"The word is no."

"Why not? Are you getting in Kayla's pants now." He turned to her and said, "Do you cry when he tries to touch you, too?"

"Whatever I do, or who I do it with is none of you damn business, Cody. Leave me alone."

"Where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, in your cold bed."

I stepped in front of Kayla and said, "You don't have say stuff like that. Just let it go."

"Woah, man, put your feathers down. Besides, I was talking to that whore behind you."

I turned and took Kayla by the hand and walked her back the other way. I was afraid he would follow us, but I didn't want to turn around. I felt his eyes, his smirk, following me as I ran away from him. We went around the corner of the library and throw the archway that ran under the molecular engineering school.

"It's okay," she said. "He didn't follow us or anything."

"Ever since he became an owner - I don't know. I guess having power like that changes you."

"No, it just helped his real self come out. God, I'm glad I'm getting out of here at the end of this semester. How did you ever get mixed up with him?"

"He was my roommate my freshman year. I suppose that means we're bound together for life or something."

"I hope not."

We stopped and she leaned over to me and kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

We kept walking. We didn't say anything about it, but we just kept holding hands.

* * *

Glasses clinked all around the table, toasting the end of the semester and the future possibilities. Kayla's friend then said, "And here's to Kayla's new fella, the first guy to pull her head out of the clouds, open her eyes, and steal her heart."

The others toasted, as I kissed the sweetest girl ever.

"I never expected her to go for someone like you - you know - nice."

"Oh, shut up, Carol," Kayla replied playfully.

Another friend, a guy from her sculpting class, said, "I guess the whole 'Cody Thing' gave her quite a shock."

Kayla looked down with a twinge of discomfort.

"Hey, guys," I said. "We don't need to bring any of that up."

He didn't leave her alone. Having power over his slave made him think that he could do anything with anyone. He still wanted her, mostly because he couldn't have her. The harder he pushed, the closer Kayla and I became. I learned of the things he had wanted to do with her, and the awful things he did do. What little that was left of our friendship had been long used up. He would threaten me, follow her, call her, send sexually explicit e-mail to her and violently explicit e-mail to me.

It got him kicked out of the university. He even got in trouble with slave relations when someone reported that his slave was sick and needed medical attention. You can't do that with a short-timer. You've got to give them back to society in as good a condition as you got them. He did what he had too, but just barely. I would sometimes see his slave running errands for him. She looked to have aged five years in the past two months.

"Here's to moving on," I said.

We drank and were silent for a moment. Then Carol said, "Oh, Jesus Heavenly Christ. I don't believe this."

I turned and saw Cody, cleaned up, dressed in dark slacks with a jacket and tie. His hair was cut short, and he was carrying a bundle of roses wrapped in green paper.

He approached, and very casually, through the thickness of silence that had dropped over all of us, said, "Hello, Kayla."

She neither looked at him or spoke. He laid the flowers by her dinner plate.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know I've done some bad things, but I've been thinking lately."

She gave him no response. I reached over and put my hand over hers.

"I want you to know that I've never felt this way about anyone, and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I went too fast, or did the wrong thing, but I just didn't know how... what to do. It's just... Well. I want you to know that I'll always love you."

Kayla sat still for several seconds. Then she picked up the flowers and dropped them on the floor. Without looking away from her half eaten plate of vegetable lasagna, she said, "I don't love you. I don't like you. I'm afraid of you. Leave me alone."

"I won't hurt you. I can't hurt you. I love you."

He bent down, picked up the flowers and set them on her lap.

I stood up.

"This isn't about you," he said, pointing his finger in my face.

Kayla pushed her chair back, got up, and again threw the flowers to the ground.

"Enough," she said. "I don't love you. I love him."

The three of us were now the center of attention of the entire room. Cody seemed unable to sense the strangeness with which his scene was filling the room. My heart beat heavily. I felt everyone's eyes.

"Enough," I repeated.

He stepped forward and put his arms around Kayla, holding her in a rigid embrace.

She screamed and pushed at his face.

I pulled him back by his hair.

She pushed him away.

He suddenly turned and punched me in the jaw. I had never really been hit in the jaw like that. It felt kind of numb at first, then there was a throbbing ache.

"This is all your fault."

In the background, I heard people moving out of the way.

His hand darted quickly and his fingers dug into my throat, grabbing me around the voice box. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hand and twisted it painfully. Then he turned me around and moved me forward toward the front of the restaurant.

It happened too quickly. He pushed past a group entering the wide wooden doors and threw me down the shallow brick stairs to the sidewalk. I banged my knee and twisted my ankle, but I was able to roll down and stand up.

I saw him walking down toward me and my eyes twisted the scene into a vision of lethal rage, as if I were watching a video of what was happening rather than experiencing it. I rushed forward and grabbed hold of him, drawing us both onto the brick steps.

At first, it just felt like a really hard punch to my left side, but then, for the first time in my life, I knew profound pain. Still locked in the primal, twisted vision, I managed to get above him and started hitting his arms and chest with wild, uncontrolled fists.

I felt that awful pain again, this time in my leg, and only then did I see his knife. I tried to stand up, but a deep, snapping pain buckled my knee and I went down hard, bashing my left wrist against the sharp edge of the brick step.

I looked up to him and saw the knife clearly. He held it point down, with his thumb twitching over the bottom of the hilt. When his arm raised, he convulsed and his eyes opened wide as he was hit by a nerve stinger gun. The next instant, heavy booted feet ran by my head as three city cops swarmed above him.

Finally, the panic vision left me and I found myself lying on my side on a little metal bed. My leg and gut had been wrapped and I was being lifted into the back of a big, red paramedic van. The sweet softness that wiped away some of the fear and confusion turned out to be Kayla's hands brushing my forehead and cheek.

* * *

"So you stole his lover, flaunted your conquest in front of him, and more than once verbally insulted and threatened him."

"It wasn't like that. I .."

"Just answer the question."

"That wasn't a question. It was a statement."

"Okay. Did you verbally insult and threaten him?"

"He was sending me..."

"I didn't ask you what he sent you. Did you threaten him? Yes or no."

"Yes or no? I can't answer that way."

"Your honor, will you remind this witness that he is required to answer all questions put to him."

"Answer the question."

"I will, but I won't say only yes or no. I gave my oath that I would tell the entire truth, not just the part of the truth that serves his purposes. If I must answer these questions, I have to answer them as truthfully as I can, and I can't do that with yes or no."

"He asked you a simple question. Answer it with a single word."

"I wont."

"You will, or you will be held in contempt."

"If you make me answer that way, then I shall indeed have a great deal of contempt for this court."

"Answer the question."

"And what of your contempt for me?"

The judge turned to the defense attorney and said, "Repeat the question."

"Did you ever threaten your friend Cody?"

"Whatever I said was defensive, in response to more serious threats both verbal and written that he made to me. I told him to stop. I met him threat for threat, in response to his harassment."

"So, that's a yes."

"You heard what I said."

"How serious is your relationship with Kayla Demming?"

"I... We..."

"Come now, that's not even a yes or no question? Do you have a problem with this too?"

"Objection, your honor. Argumentative."

"Sustained."

"How would you describe your relationship with Kayla Demming?"

"I'm in love with her."

"Is she in love with you?"

"I believe so."

"Do you have a sexual relationship?"

"Objection. Where is he going with this?"

"Overruled, but get to the point."

"Have you had sexual relations with Kayla Demming?"

"We haven't made love, no."

"Weren't you a little bit jealous of the intimacy of her relationship with the defendant? Didn't you feel in competition with him?"

"I don't understand what you mean?"

"Didn't you want what he had?"

"No. I want what I have: her respect and her love. He never had those."

"You didn't want to have sex with her?"

"I thought you were going to get to the point, but since your going to make me answer that, no. I didn't and don't want sex with her, not until she's better able to cope with having been repeatedly raped by your client."

"No more questions."

* * *

The prosecution went for attempted murder and got it, because they found that Cody had purchased the knife after he had purchased the flowers. He was sentenced to twenty five years.

We needed the closure, I guess. We came in and sat in the back as the lifers were being sold off. Cody was the first short-timer. The bidding went pretty strongly between a small building contractor and an older fellow who seemed familiar to me. When the man went up to pay for his new slave, I recognized him as the husband of Cody's slave.

Kayla took my hand and we walked to the tall doors in the back. I could sense that he was watching us. I felt his powerful eyes following each of our steps, staring longingly at the back of Kayla's head. This time I turned around to face him. He wasn't even looking our way. His new owner had turned him around to examine the tangle of years old whipping marks on his back.

"He was a juvenile offender," the guard explained. "I hope he learns his lesson this time."

"Oh, he will," said his new owner with icy stillness. "Right, boy?"

I turned back around and said, "Let's get the hell out of here."

:^D