Embrace

July 2121

The woman shook in Mara’s arms. She was crying. Most people did.

Mara held her tighter. “It’s ok.”

They sat on a low couch in a dim-lit room; small and cramped, but comfortable. Watery sunlight filtered in through the window, spilling over the blues and greens and ambers of the soft-cushioned furniture clustered together, casting them in a kaleidoscopic array. The colours, the clutter and soft edges, served as a reprieve from the world outside, and Mara had arranged it just so. It had to be a world away for people to be comfortable here. For them to be comfortable with what they’d come to do.

Trembling wracked her client’s frame, but the tears were subsiding and eventually the woman pulled away. She wouldn’t look Mara in the eye.

“Thank you,” she murmured, breathy. Mara nodded, but she never understood why they thanked her. She required payment after all. When the woman left, several silver chips sat on the couch in her wake.

It had been over a hundred years since physical touch was outlawed in the U.S. In most parts of the world for that matter. And in that hundred years, touch had become insurmountably valuable. Sometimes Mara daydreamed of a life where she made a respectable living, but there was nothing respectable about dealing in illegal embrace.

***

Meagre light emerged through the sheen of smog permeating the cityscape, and Mara adjusted her mask and head wrap as she stepped out from the protection of her building. The heat was suffocating and the UV dangerous, but the real threat was in the air. Cloying and noxious, it swelled around her, clinging to the world like spray from murky water. It got inside everything the way water could too. She shouldered her bag and adjusted her mask again. Head down, Mara joined the throng of people making their way through the city.

Taxis filled the streets, and electronic signs rose high above, showing advert after advert, and every so often displaying the enormous faces of their leaders. There was the President nodding at the UK Prime Minister, touting re-opened trade between their nations, despite the agreement essentially spelling banishment for the UK from the rest of Europe. Then it would change, and she was there with the First Gentleman and the First Son, all standing a respectable ten inches away from one another, reminding everyone that a perfect, happy family was one that kept their distance. Happy, orderly, safe. They all glowed eerily through the smog, smiling down in that strange, placating way. Then they slid away and were replaced by a Pizza Hut commercial.

Mara stepped out onto the road as a taxi came hurtling around the corner. Tyres screeched in protest as the machine came to a halt and the horn blared, making her flinch. She threw up a hand in apology to the passenger, but another taxi came up behind the first too fast and was also forced to slam on the brakes. More horns sounded and there were belligerent protests from passers-by at the noise. Warmth rushed to Mara’s cheeks and she scurried to the pavement on the other side. “Fucking robots,” She cursed under her breath.

Watching the whole thing unfold from a screen up above was an image of the First Son, with his too big smile and too white teeth. Do good for the environment and for you, the image was captioned. Walk to work. Mara frowned and flipped him off, muttering to herself like a lunatic as she passed beneath the sign. “Fuck you, too.”

Mara climbed the stairs of a familiar building until she reached the door she was looking for, shucking off her outer layers of protective clothing and leaving them in a pile by the wall. She knocked. Waited.

The door swung open in a rush of cool air, and just as quickly as she was there, Mara’s sister was disappearing into the house again, the screams and laughter of children following in her wake. “There’s water in the fridge,” she shouted over her shoulder, already distracted by the twins fighting.

“Thank you,” Mara tossed back, pouring herself a glass.

“Noah, stop touching your sister. Leni! You need to share!”

The baby started up a bout of doleful sobbing at the noise and Mara discarded her glass. “I’ve got him, Dove, don’t worry.”

She hoisted the infant out of his crib and held him against her shoulder, careful that the child’s wrappings prevented any contact between them. Mara dutifully rocked her nephew. “Shh, Otto, it’s ok. I know they’re being noisy. It’s all a bit much isn’t it?” She kept up a stream of soothing words and bounced the baby until he settled. Eventually Dove reappeared to take him.

“Thank you,” she mouthed over the sleeping child. Mara smiled in reply and fell onto the couch across from her sister. She produced three silver chips from a pocket sewn to the inside of her shirt and placed them on the coffee table. Dove’s eyes went wide.

“Mara!” she hissed, rocking Otto with more vigour then was strictly necessary.

“Dove.”

“How much is on those?” The words were heavy with dread.

“Two hundred each,” Mara said. “They’ll be accepted anywhere.”

“I’m not taking more of your hug dealing money.”

Mara pursed her lips. “You don’t get a choice. And I don’t like when you call it that.” Dove raised an eyebrow pointedly, making Mara defensive. “It sounds cheap.”

“Oh?”

“And bad.”

“Really?”

“And it’s not.” Mara sighed. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I’m careful. And it helps people.” She gestured to the transfer chips on the table. “Including you and the kids.”

Dove shifted the baby to one arm and used the other to rub at her temple. Mara pressed on. “One day, I’ll have enough for us all to leave. We’ll go somewhere with cleaner air and kinder people. And grass! Don’t you think the kids would like grass?”

“Of course. But you make me worry.”

“Then don’t worry. Just stop calling it hug dealing.” She grinned. “Embrace is much classier.”

“Oh you’re very classy.” Dove was shaking her head, but Mara could see the ghost of a smile, a familiar light making a place in her sister’s eyes. “It is nice to see you Mar.”

“You too, Dove.” But the warmth in Mara’s chest was already dissipating. “I should go. It’s not good for you to have a criminal in your house.”

She got to her feet. “I’ll see you all soon.”

Dove nodded. “Make sure you do. Leni and Otto are making paintings for you.”

“Well, I couldn’t possibly miss that.”

***

Mara curled up on the ottoman by her window, jotting records into a little black book. She etched arbitrary letters onto the pages, keeping track of her funds and work in a way that only she would understand. Rain falling from the brown sky beat down against the glass and left murky smears, a stark contrast against the colourful room. Mara refused to look at it. She loathed to go outside in the sickly humidity of the summer rain, and she most certainly wasn’t going to acknowledge its presence by frowning out her window. Her apartment was pretty enough that she could pretend to be far away.

A knock sounded from the door and Mara’s hand stilled mid-line. She snapped the book shut and stowed it under the loose board by her bookcase. When she pulled the door open Mara’s blood turned icy.

A man stood beyond the threshold, all dark skin and white teeth and long limbs. His face had some boyish angles, betraying his youth, but he held himself like someone older, like he’d been forced to grow up.

He smiled. “Hello,” he said carefully. “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Mara breathed. Her visitor grimaced. He glanced both ways down the hallway.

“Can I come in?”

Mara realised her mouth was agape and she forced herself to shut it. She simply stood aside, letting him pass into her home. The visitor took a slow turn, gaze darting over her things, until it fell on her. Mara closed the door, heart racing. She toyed with the idea of running, but curiosity held her feet on the ground.

“May I ask why the First Son of the United States is in my house?”

He nodded grimly, hands in pockets. “I suppose that’s a fair question.”

Quiet stretched between them.

“Call me Cameron,” he said eventually, and gestured to the table. “Can we sit?”

Mara didn’t take her eyes off him as she took a seat. Cameron slid into the one across from her. He removed a rectangular strip of plastic and placed it on the table between them, sliding it within Mara’s reach.

“Twenty thousand. For your service and your silence.”

Mara’s breath caught but she endeavoured to lean back casually in her chair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know what you do.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain.” Mara’s hands were growing clammy and her vision tunnelled, all her focus narrowing down to the card on the table and the man behind it. So much money… but at what cost? Adrenaline sung through her blood. Her muscles went taut and her thoughts frenetic. She desperately fought to hide it.

“I’m not here to arrest you, Mara.” Cameron gestured uselessly. “I’m here because I know you deal in embrace, and that’s what I want.”

Mara pursed her lips, brushing past the fact that he’d used her name. Reason told her to deny it. Reason also told her that the First Son of the United States wouldn’t make a personal trip to her apartment to smoke her out. The money held a strong opinion as well.

“A well-to-do guy like yourself getting involved in embrace. Isn’t that a little dirty for you?”

“Perhaps I want to get my hands dirty.”

“People get addicted you know.”

“Why are you trying to talk me out of it?”

Mara tilted her head, really looking at the man across from her. And she realised that beneath the straight spine and strong words, he was scared.

“I’m not. I’m just trying to understand you.” She drew the plastic card across the table and tucked it into the folds of her clothes. She did understand. “You have my silence. And we can do business whenever you like. Cameron.”

Cameron nodded, suddenly becoming very interested in the ring he was wearing. Mara had done this long enough to read his discomfort. The desire to ask for something but the not knowing how. She got to her feet and made her way around the table, extending her hands.

Cameron just stared at them, brow creased. Time caught on the edges of the tension lining his form and the moment stretched like a band. Mara had seen this moment before. She knew that anything stretched long enough inevitably had to break. And it did. Stillness gave way to a flicker of muscle in Cameron’s jaw and then his shoulders curved inward, tension going out of him the way dawn gives way to day. He slid his hands into hers, one, and then the other, and rose.

Cameron was taller than Mara, his touch warm and light. Hesitant. She guided his arms around her, placing his hands on her back where they shook. She stepped into the space framed by their bodies and reached for Cameron’s spine. His breathing hitched as Mara rested her cheek against his shoulder. She took deliberate deep breaths, slow and measured, and before long Cameron was too. Warm air curled around her as Cameron’s head fell into the curve of her neck. Eyelashes wavered like butterfly wings against her skin.

“It’s ok,” Mara said, listening to his heartbeat. “You’re ok”

***

The screen turned grey as the call connected, revealing tired eyes and a dark room. “Hello?”

“Dove, it’s me. Start packing. We’re going somewhere with grass.”