Stealing Time by Rebecca Bowyer (bearly read books .TXT) 📗

you that one. Guns. Peoplekill each other in the thousands, usually for their own benefit.Firearms technology has continued to be developed. They haven’t allbeen destroyed.”

“No, but we need that technology for defenceas well. It keeps us safe.”

Varya smiled. “Yes, it does. And how are theRest Time Chips any different?”

“Ugh, let’s argue about this later, I knowI’m right. I’ve got a ladies’ soirée this afternoon that I need toget ready for. I can’t stand those high and mighty rich people andtheir first world problems.”

Varya watched as Marisa disappeared throughthe kitchen archway and returned a moment later with a bottle ofSapphiric Gin. The sun caught the purple glass as she moved towardsthe cabinet and flashed a colourful shadow across Varya’s hand. Sheturned her hand over as the light played on it and smirked whileMarisa’s back was turned. The ‘high and mighty rich’ set were theonly reason she had access to spirits at all. It was anon-essential luxury, which meant only the mega wealthy had themoney or influence to obtain it.

Varya moved over to the bottle and strokedit absentmindedly before pouring herself a glass. Just a small one.A quarter-inch. Just to take the edge off. She inhaled the fumesand made a face.

“You’re meant to drink it, not snort it,”said Marisa.

Varya stared into her glass for a momentlonger, then tipped her head back and downed the contents. Shecherished the mild burn that spread down her throat and through herbelly.

“Have you got the case ready for thisafternoon?” asked Marisa.

Varya nodded and unlocked the cabinet behindher. She reached down and pulled out the sleek red briefcase theyused to lend some class to these soirées. The usual tin box thatMarisa took to the palliative care wards would never do for thisset. They needed to believe they were special. They paid a premiumfor the perception.

Marisa picked it up and nodded. “What didyou want to find Sebastian for, anyway? You never said.”

Varya shook her head and held up her device.“Not now. I’ll contact him later.”

Marisa paused and wrinkled her nose butheaded towards the door anyway.

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow unless youneed me sooner.”

Varya nodded and watched her leave.

Chapter twenty-two

Marisa

It was a strange sort of employment she’d foundherself in, Marisa reflected, selling time to those who hadseemingly limitless supplies. The woollen plush pile gave waybeneath the spiked heels of her shoes. She felt a sudden urge torip them off and snuggle her feet into the depths of the carpet.Regular people didn’t have carpet like this. Wool was expensive. Itcame from sheep, which required grass to graze, which required landand water to grow, which was in shorter and shorter supply sincethe rivers started to dry up.

In fact, everything in this vast cavern of amansion was one big “screw you” to the restrictions of modern life.A giant water fountain trickled away in the reception area,greeting visitors and warning them by its very presence: ‘Normalrules do not apply to us’.

Marisa knelt in front of the marble table atthe front of the drawing room and unlocked her briefcase. Onecoiffed head turned away from its conversation to inspect the newnoises. Marisa locked eyes with the woman briefly, staring justlong enough to be impertinent, then dropped her gaze. In herperipheral vision she watched the red lips purse, the matchingfingernails transfer the champagne glass into the other hand andpause. Then the head turned away, back to the clipped chatter ofthe other heads.

That’s all these women were to Marisa –heads and bank accounts. Do the presentation, take the payments,hand over the time tabs, and get out. Just like selling Tupperware.Which, it occurred to her, these women took it as casually as.

The super wealthy didn’t work, you see. Itwas the ultimate status symbol in a society where most peopleworked sixty-hour weeks to afford the luxury of living an extratwenty-five years—to the age of sixty-five—these women idled awayall one hundred and sixty-eight hours available to them. They hadmaids and gardeners, cooks and chauffeurs. And, though they eachhad at least one child, they had several nannies to care for them.It was ironic, really. Poor women wanted time tabs to add hours totheir day, so they had the energy to care for their children afterworking twelve hours to earn their basic entitlements. Wealthywomen didn’t seem to want to see their children at all.

Marisa laid out the tiny glittering boxeswhich contained various quotas of hours. Purple with a shimmeringstripe for ten four-hour strips, jade with a mother-of-pearl stripefor twenty four-hour strips. And isolated at one end of the tablewas a single faux-diamond encrusted box. It contained thirty,eight-hour strips: enough to eschew sleep for an entire month. Thiswas the box no woman would order today, but for which all eightwomen would contact Marisa slyly afterwards, thinking they were theonly one. The diamond box allowed the socialites to be present atparties until the small hours of the morning and still be on timefor their personal trainer session at six o’clock sharp. All whilelooking fresh as a daisy thanks to the eight hours of solid restthey slipped in between.

The diamond box cost four times the price ofthe next package down and was Marisa’s brainchild after listeningcarefully to conversations at these soirées for some months.

“Why wouldn’t they just buy sixty four-hourslips for less?” Varya had been sceptical.

“Prestige. And purpose,” Marisa had replied.“To show they can afford to control their lives as closely as theychoose.”

The diamond boxes had quickly become theirbest seller.

Marisa pushed the glittering cube gently onthe golden silk cloth so that it sat slightly out of alignment withthe row of lesser boxes. Then she stood and waited. It was a danceof status, this waiting. The host would eventually look up and nodto her, indicating that she had seen that Marisa was ready tobegin. This bestowed upon her a respect not given to the ordinaryservants.

Marisa would then have to wait a whilelonger. It was usually between five and ten minutes. Long enough toput her in her place, short enough to avoid angering her. Afterall, the women in this room needed her. She was the only dealer oftime tabs. If they lost her, they