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The Story:
Alleys had never been his favorite places. They were dingy and full of society’s outcasts. At least he had always made that distinction between himself and them, but now, he was no different. He had become more a part of their world than he’d ever thought possible.
Despite his slinking, they all saw him. They knew who he was, but they didn’t care. He was oddly safe among this community—for now, anyway.
He came to 187 and stepped up to the door. Realizing everyone had gone silent, he turned to find a crowd waiting to see if he would actually go in. One lady shook her head, advising him to stay. But he couldn’t. He pushed the door open and walked inside.
The inside of the building held filth and disrepair that far exceeded that of the outside. No one was in the dark waiting area, so he made timid half steps toward another room with a light on inside. Rounding the corner revealed a man in a lab coat who was tinkering with an unconscious patient’s brain. A shard of glass crunched under his foot, and the man looked up.
“Oh, Mr. Pafax! I’ve been expecting you.”
The man ushered him back into the hallway and shut the door, leaving the patient inside with an exposed brain.
“Shouldn’t you, uh…”
“Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s got a healthy 30 minutes before that anesthesia wears off.”
He was certain this was a horrible idea, but he didn’t have a choice. It had to be done.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Pafax? I have a lovely set of arms, straight off a K-34 unit. You could show them they were wrong about you with one swift punch.”
He didn’t like the man’s laugh—maniacal and raspy.
“I need a heart.”
The man froze for a few moments before breaking his astonished stare.
“So, it’s true then about the…”
“Can you do it or not?”
Blood splattered onto his hand as he tried to cover a cough. The man formed a sinister smile.
“I’m not at all ashamed to work for food. I keep the heart.”
“Deal.”
They shook hands and headed back to another room.
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