Do the Wriggle!
By R.J. Dowling

Oh, baby, I need you. Baby, I need you so bad!

Melanie wanted to scream. Too embarrassed to call attention to herself, she tried wiggling her legs. They floundered uselessly. She tried to co-ordinate leg kicks with arm movements but she was still rotating in position, ass over tit. Naked.

This is ridiculous, she thought. It's like something out of a bad comedy.

That's right, honey, I'm gonna do it to you all night.

She clenched her teeth. "Turn off that damn music!"

The cheesy song continued to throb from the wall speakers. Billy must have keyed the room to obey only his voice commands. Stupid room, she thought. Stupid husband. Stupid me.

'Cos I'm your asteroid lover, I'm as hard as a rock…

Okay Melanie, she told herself, get a grip. I'm stuck in a Zero Gee parlour. What's the worst that could happen? Boredom? Vertigo? So, why has he abandoned me here? Some kind of kick? Knowing I can't move until he comes back? Could he really be that low?

Damn right, she decided. But the way he had said goodbye, making it sound so final… Something told her he wasn't coming back. No wonder he'd only requested one jet-pod for the Zero Gee. What a hell of a way to ask for a divorce.

Oh asteroid lover, it's time for us to dock!

The walls span round. No, she corrected, it's me. I'm spinning. She was getting disorientated, ready to puke. Floating around in your own vomit--not a pretty sight for whoever eventually showed up to let her out.

"Jesus!" The room wasn't making her feel sick; she hadn't taken her NIP, her Nanite Introductive Pill.

It all made horrible sense.

The pills always made her feel lifeless. And as Billy had had a romantic evening planned, he'd told her to leave them until later. Only now there wasn't going to be any later. The nano-virus she'd picked up in Tech-town would eat through her vital organs long before anybody came to check the room. Billy didn't want a divorce, he wanted her dead.

* * *

Billy Garvey hadn't always been a cowardly, murdering bastard. Melanie'd first gotten to know him after one of his shows on the PleasureRoid--a neighbouring asteroid settlement that had grown into a giant entertainment complex. He'd just been starting out, supporting a retro band called Sex Murder. Going by the stage name of The Reaper, his act consisted of simulated beheadings and the like. Corny stuff, but the teens hadn't seen it before. He'd looked cool and menacing. Just her type.

They'd finished the night back at her place. After the sex, he'd given her a ticket to his next show. Well, he hadn't exactly given it to her. He'd explained that his manager, Cho-Cho, didn't believe in freebies. So she'd paid him 15 Helio-Pounds, or Hells, as they were known.

They had started seeing each other on a regular basis. It had been kind of cool, going out with a stim star. Especially when he'd begun to get a following. He'd started to get recognised in the walkways and Melanie'd found herself thrilled at the glamour of it all.

One night he'd come back to her cubicle, face flushed with excitement. "Hey baby, guess what? I've just signed a stim deal!"

Melanie had unplugged the sense-vid she'd been running. "What?"

"Say hello to the big time, honey. I'm gonna be a star! My sense-vid's going out all across the settlements. Who knows? Maybe they'll even beam it down to Earth."

"You're going to be famous!"

"And rich, baby. Don't forget that. We can buy a place in the New Hampstead sector."

"New Hampstead? With all those stuck-up snobs?"

"Aw, we'll buy up their cubicles and throw them out!"

It had been a wonderful few days, until she'd discovered that he'd been screwing one of the stim execs. He'd even given the bitch free tickets to his shows. Free tickets!

After some desperate pleading on his part, they'd gotten back together and had even decided to get married. The ceremony had taken place to coincide with the release of his first stim, "Do the Wriggle!".

Granted, it was a real piece of shit, but thanks to its annoying chorus, which stuck in your brain like a glue-meme, it had gone straight to number one. They'd honeymooned on one of the plushest sectors of the PleasureRoid. He'd screwed at least two of the receptionists, but she'd learned to put up with his wandering dick, as long as he tried to be discrete. Otherwise, she'd promised to take him to the cleaners in the law courts.

And so things had gone on for a couple of years, with Melanie and her husband enjoying the high-life and appearing in all the gossip stims along with the rest of the beautiful people. They'd thought it would never end. Ha!

One day they'd found themselves on vacation in Tech-town, a part of the asteroid devoted to the latest technological crazes. They'd been wandering along when Billy had stopped, alarmed, in the middle of the walkway.

"What's the matter, honey?"

He'd pointed at the storefronts, at the stim displays. "Do you notice anything?"

She'd shaken her head.

"I'm not in any of the stim-ads."

Sure enough, he'd been right. A lot of them had been featuring someone called Wicked Wanda, shaking her thang to a song called "Bonus Tunnel".

"Hey, that's cool!"

Billy had put his hands over his face. "It's over."

Later on that day, Melanie had been taken ill with stomach pains. They'd gone to the clinic where they discovered that she'd picked up a nasty strain of nano-virus. A cell-destroyer that in another half an hour or so would have killed her. As the doctor spoke with them, Melanie had noticed the look of despair on her Billy's face. At first, she'd thought it had been worry over her condition. But later on outside the hospital, he had kept on muttering to himself, "I'm finished. I'm finished."

He'd been inconsolable during the following two weeks. She'd never known such a mixture of arrogance and insecurity in a person. He'd literally crumbled before her eyes. Sometimes, she'd come back from shopping to find him in the cubicle with the lights out, crying. She hadn't known what to do. "It's all right, baby," she'd told him. "You'll find a way."

"No one loves me anymore."

"I love you."

"I don't mean you. I mean the real people. The ones who buy my stims."

She'd let that one pass because he'd been in no condition for an argument. In fact, it'd seemed that nothing would bring him back from the edge of despair until this evening when he'd arrived home from a meeting with his manager glinty-eyed and smiling.
"We're going to re-release 'Do the Wriggle!'"

"Oh, that's great honey. But isn't it a bit soon to re-release a stim? It only came out a couple of years ago."

"A couple of years! That's an eternity for the kids these days. Besides, they're going to get in a hot-shot producer--the one who's doing Wicked Wanda--to do a remix."

He'd been so excited he'd even suggested a romantic meal together at an intimate Thai-Scottish restaurant they liked. He'd ordered the deep-fried Haggis. She'd drunk a little too much of what the owners pretended was real Champagne, imported from Earth. And after the meal, when she should have been going home to take her NIP, he'd suggested going up to Zero Gee for a quickie. It'd had been the first time in weeks he'd shown any interest in sex. At least with her. So, against her better judgement she'd agreed.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

***

Stinging pains lacerated her stomach. She moaned, not wanting to think what those evil little nanites were doing to her vital organs. Somewhere some nerdy little shit-brained geek was getting his jollies from this. Probably Billy was too. Why? Why was he doing this to her? If he'd wanted a divorce they could have settled. Even if he'd been sleeping around she wouldn't have taken everything from him. It didn't make sense.

All you kids get ready to giggle…

Oh, no. "Asteroid Lover" had finished, now it was the turn of the comeback single.

…here's a little something called, "Do the Wriggle!"

Adrenalin rage coursed through her veins. She lashed out with her arms and legs trying to kick something, anything. The fit lasted for several seconds until exhausted, she stopped.

She wondered whether the asteroid settlement's A.I. was monitoring the interior of this Zero Gee parlour. She guessed not; all sorts of important people came here for privacy, and the last thing they would want was a record of their activities being available to hackers.

Every few moments, as she rotated, she glimpsed the exit portal. If she could just reach it, she could alert the A.I. to bring medical attention. Otherwise, by the time the owners of the parlour came to check it would be too late.

You move your arms like this… And your legs like this…

As well as the stomach pain, she felt something else. A pressure in her bladder. Fantastic, she thought. Now I need to go the toilet. Well I'm already naked. What does it matter? Still, she held it in. Despite the way Billy had treated her, she reminded herself that she was still a lady.

Her head buzzed. Her vision was narrowing. Shit, this is it, she realised. I'm going to die. In a way, it wasn't so bad. It felt like her senses were shutting down one by one, like lights going off in a bar at closing time. She felt kind of numb. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, Melanie.

Then you move your tush like this…

No! Dammit! She was not going to die like this. Not with this stupid song playing. His stupid song. There must be a way out. There must be. Think, Melanie, think.

Darkness closed in.

***

Billy Garvey finished his wife's "suicide" note, took a couple of sleeping pills and jumped into bed. Sure, he felt bad about Melanie--she'd been a nice wife; good in bed, photogenic, always knew how to act in an interview. But Cho-Cho, his manager, had been right. His image had gotten stale. How could people take the Reaper seriously if he were happily married? No, what he needed right now was tragedy. And nothing said tragedy more than one of the old three "D"s: Divorce, Death and… what was the other one? Hell, it didn't matter. Death was the big one.

His eyelids were starting to feel heavy. Sleeping pills were kicking in. Cool. Soon he'd be in la-la land. Out until the settlement police arrived to give him the bad news. "Oh, we're real sorry Mr Reaper but your wife has snuffed it." He'd shed a few tears, pretend to be real broken up about things--making sure the police found the suicide note--answer a few questions, say how she'd been feeling like she was holding him back in his career. Then Cho-Cho could start booking interviews, get things ready for the big comeback. The Reaper would rise from the dead. He fell asleep with a big grin slapped over his face.

BZZZZ!

What the-? Oh, door bell. What time was it? How long had he been out? "Lights," he called to the cubicle A.I. The lights came on. "Identify caller."

"Settlement police," said the A.I.

He swung out of bed. Shit. The police were here, now. He breathed deeply. Keep calm, Billy. Just another gig, nothing to be frightened of. You've rehearsed this moment a hundred times. He grabbed a robe from the back of the chair and told the cubicle to let the police in.

The door slid open and Billy found himself looking at two bulky officers, fierce looking grunts made even more intimidating by the armour and law-enforcement tools they hefted. He rubbed his eyes trying to get rid of the drowsy feeling the pills had left in his head.

"Billy Garvey?" said the bulkier of the two.

"Er, yeah? What's the problem officers?"

"I'm the problem," said a familiar voice.

Melanie stepped forward, pushing her way past the policemen like they were her personal bodyguards. She was wearing a white gown, like something from a hospital.

"Melanie?" he said dumbly. "You're alive?"

"There you go officers," Melanie smirked. "You don't need more of a confession, do you?"

Various signs and symbols scrolled down the policemen's visors. He couldn't read what they said from this side, but he realised it was something along the lines of "Guilty as sin." Damn, why had he taken those sleeping pills? He needed to be alert. Think, Billy, think. "Melanie, I was so worried-"

"Save it." Melanie crossed her arms.

"We found your prints on the terminal at the Zero Gee," explained the shorter of the two guards.

Billy retreated a few steps and flopped down onto his bed. The policemen swaggered in, flanking Melanie. "You're under arrest."

This just wasn't fair. He frowned at his wife. She should be dead. She hadn't taken her pills and there was no way she could have gotten out of Zero Gee. "How did you..?"

"You really don't think things through do you, Billy? Too busy screwing around. You gave me champagne to drink, remember?"

"So?"

"You know that alcohol always goes straight through me."

Despite his situation, Billy had to stifle a giggle. "You mean..?"

"Yeah. I managed to get enough propulsion to reach a wall, then I pushed off for the exit. The medics came just in time. And don't you dare laugh at me. You're going to rot for this."

Billy shook his head, trying to imagine Melanie and her peculiar way of liberating herself.

"Please stand up, sir," said the shorter policeman. He said "please" in a way which sounded very much like, "Just do what I say or I'll break your neck."

"Wait a second, don't you know who I am?"

"Are you going to resist, sir?" He waved a stun stick in front of Billy's nose.

The other cop cracked his knuckles. "Hope he does. Been a quiet night so far."

"I'm the Reaper! You can't arrest me! Ask Cho-Cho, my manager. I did 'Do the Wriggle'!"

The cops exchanged looks. "I think that's just cause in itself, sir."

"Oh, very funny." Sensing that he was in no position to put up a fight, Billy got to his feet and let the officer fasten the cuffs. He could see Melanie smiling like he hadn't seen her do in a long time. "Guess you're enjoying this?"

She nodded.

How could it end like this? He, The Reaper, a common criminal? Yet, as the policemen led him towards the door, he had a brainwave. Of course! Why had he been so worried? This was the answer to his prayers! He chuckled.

"What is it? All those drugs finally fried your head?" said Melanie.

"No, baby. Just remembered something. The third 'D'; Detention for Serious Crime!" He left Melanie wondering what the hell he was talking about and strode out of the cubicle with his head held high. He'd phone Cho-Cho with the good news as soon as they dropped him at the police station.

At last… comeback time!

 

-R.J. Dowling is currently working on a novel as well as more short stories. He is also spending a lot of time talking about himself in the third person.

 

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