A Cut-throat business

Nazo ran through the sliding door, whipped off her burqa, and took the screw-driver to her face. 

“The bloody strike had to happen today”, she muttered to herself while unscrewing her Bio-eye-mask. 

It was Tan-Sir’s strict policy; while working, all employees should have the merchandise on full display. He was particularly proud of Nazo’s cyber eyes. She only had one-side of the mask off when Jameell ran in. 

“Madam! Kacha piece!” he announced half-leaning in the doorway. 

Despite having lived and worked in Islamabad for two years, Jameel the village-boy-from-the-mountains still gaped whenever he saw Nazo in jeans and a T-shirt. This wasn’t helped by the fact that Tan-Sir preferred his female employees to wear tight fitting shirts. 

Nazo’s Bio-eye rolled of its own accord, she turned back to the mirror:

“What’re you blabbering about Jameel?”,

“Madam… there’s an unmodded girl in the lobby” 

Nazo put down the mask, her mechanical eyes stared back. She’d set them to sapphire blue, it contrasted wonderfully with her dusky skin and chrome cheekbones.  

The girl in question looked like a rabbit standing on the threshold of a lion’s den. Unlike the other clientele who mostly wore dark colors. The girl was brandishing aggressively vibrant spring hues. She was wearing ill-fitting jeans (possibly belonging to a man) and she had tucked what was clearly a kurta into the waistband of the jeans to make it look like a blouse. The way she kept touching her face and hair told Nazo that this girl usually didn’t go out without a dupatta. 

She was clutching what seemed like a faded old atm card. Nazo didn’t even remember when was the last time she had seen one of those outside of a movie. She shoved the card in Nazo’s direction with uncertain intent. 

Before Nazo could take a step, Tan-Sir’s high-pitched lilt rang out. 

“Ooh, what do we have here?”, he crooned while approaching the girl.

The girl looked like she’d faint at any moment. For an unmodded person to come face-to-face with the likes of Tanvir Sheikh was akin to seeing a demon walking among men. 

Tan had a habit of not covering up while in his boutique. He had the overhead lights especially calibrated to ensure the sheen coming off of his metallic arms would be blindingly brilliant. 

On Tan-Sir’s orders, Nazo took the girl to the back room. She offered her green tea, which was reluctantly accepted. Tan came by shortly afterwards and started working on her neck while Nazo engaged the girl in conversation, distracting her from impending cervical mutilation.

Nazo found out the girl’s name was Zeenat, she was the youngest of six siblings. Her father ran a butcher shop but saved enough money to send her to college. It was there that she met her boyfriend. He had proposed to Zeenat after a whirlwind romance. But the boy’s family was “educated”, they could never have their son marry a girl who didn’t even have basic Cranial-Mods. It was then that Zeenat had started offering VR tuition classes, and saved money for her very first Body-Mod. 

Tan-Sir smiled as he wiped sweat off his forehead with bloody metallic fingers. Whether it was the girl’s uplifting tale or pride at his own work, Nazo couldn’t say. This girl was the first to receive a Cranial-Mod of Tan’s own design. He offered her a discount for the services if she signed a contract to share the bio-neurological data with them.

The girl was confused and merely nodded while arranging her hair to hide the metallic protrusion on her neck. Apparently her family was one of those who still believed body-mods to be haram. 

After the girl had left, both Nazo and Tan-Sir returned to their regular routines. Attending to their high-end clients, youngish men and women, sporting the latest hair-styles and fashion trends the net had to offer. Tan was tittering around like a butterfly, trying to find prospective guinea pigs to try out his own mod. 

Nazo saw something from the corner of her eye, it was an encrypted message, telling her to meet at their “usual” place after the boutique closed.

—————————————————————————————– 

The smog wasn’t too bad tonight, she could faintly make out streaks from the launches at Bilawal Bhutto Space-port. She heard military drones firing rubber bullets and tear-gas at the protesting crowds far away. All the commotion had caused the junkies and day-laborers who slept under this bridge to find a new place for the night. 

It wasn’t long before the black 4×4 crept up to her, it’s electric engine silent as a prowling cat. The front window slid away to reveal two figures amidst hazy smoke, twins, a boy and a girl. Though they were so heavily modded, even their own mother couldn’t tell them apart (she had tried on multiple occasions).   

A small metal appendage attached to what used to be a hand beckoned her closer.

“Is it done?” it asked in a raspy tone, vapours of synthetic charas and imported booze wafting from it’s mouth

Nazo merely nodded, not wanting to prolong this encounter more than necessary. 

The twin leaned back in the car and looked at it’s sibling. Nazo heard a weird clicking noise as she realized the twins were laughing. They were actually whooping,

“Tan Sheikh you son-of-a-bitch, you’re out of business!” they were shouting triumphantly.

Nazo felt shame wash over her as she looked away. 

“Why so glum, Naz-darling?” one of them asked

“You know your job is secure in our boutique after Tan closes shop”, the other one added 

“I just wish the girl didn’t have to die” Nazo replied remorsefully

“If there was a way to cause a cranial-mod malfunction without killing the user, we would’ve taken it, you know that Naz-babe” the hermaphroditic-twin replied off-handedly

“Plus think of all the money you’ll make, you can finally move your family out of the Pindi slums” 

Nazo nodded absently, the money was transferred to her account. 

With techno music blaring, the black truck slinked off into the night. Nazo began walking home, she felt wetness on her cheeks, perhaps her cyber-eyes were leaking again.