Manageable #4

The takeout containers were scattered all over the table top I was working my way through the third samosa when I noticed she hadn't touched hers. "What I asked?" Brushing rice from my goatee. "Somni-451 is great takeout curry."

"You see any cows or pigs in HK?" She sneered. "That shit is all "At" meat."

"At meat?" I asked wiping up some sauce with a folded over piece of Naan bread.

"Cat, rat...At meat."

" That is racist on a myriad of levels."

"Doesn't make it any less true." She assured while digging through her soiled blazer finally producing a vanilla SoyBoy bar. She carefully tore it open and began to eat it in tiny, measured bites.

"I'll stick with Ats." I said. "Those things taste like earwax."

She shrugged noncommittally.

A soft chime sounded, I grabbed the Bullpup and moved over quickly and tapped the security screen at the door. Just within the frame I could see a slim hand lay a small box wrapped in paper in front of the door. Withdrawing, I could see the bottom of a sleeve tattoo poking out of the cuff of a sharkskin suit. A Chinese dragon a swirl around a brightly inked sea of cartoon Koi. Shutting down security and throwing the deadbolts I retrieve the package and rearm the system in one smooth movement.

"A bomb ?" She asks as I set it down on the table after moving the takeout containers aside.

"If only it was that easy." I say looking at it, it's wrapped in that clever Japanese way with no tape , just folded, which I know after opening it I could never recreate. Once unwrapped , I remove a compact console and a collapsible interface tiara.

"A squid." She breaths with something like horror.

" Manageable." I say.