Simlog #34, recorded by Babsie, Tyrell Office
She’s putting on her clothes, talking: “I reported the ongoing search results to Jennie this morning. I’m a bit tired, but it’s okay. Kowalski will not return before monday, so I either can go and cash another two hundred or idle around, go out on a saturday night and sniff lines of coke between here and the sandy beaches of Los Angeles. I had enough at that ‘The Mad Woman’ yesterday, to begin with, so I decided to work. Kowalski, if you read this, I’m doing this side job for Roadblock, then I see. Maybe”, and she pauses and she bites her lip, “maybe I check out Raven if Annie, Molly or Fairy Fay was showing up after that.”
She’s heaving down her scooter the stairs and finally reaches the backyard. She’s sweating and panting. “So much for todays training exercise. I do that for a month and I carry you over the doorsill, old man.” She’s driving off.
Simlog #35, recorded by Babsie, On the Street
She’s sitting sideways on her scooter, smoking a nic. Her face is smeared gray by the air pollution but around her eyes, where she was wearing her goggles, which still show the almost white complexion of her skin, when a car with mirrored windows is driving by and you get a glance at her from her own view.
“I’ve been driving around for hours now. Searching for the two kinds of cars that Roadblock was searching for. A fucking Westwind 3000 sportscar and a BMW 400GT. The Westwind was easy enough to find in Bellevue, but the things tend to be parked on guarded yards or in direct view of a cam or those things just have one of those nasty alarms turned on and I don’t think if they can deal with that on a car like that. It’s been a fucking boring job, but I’ve done it. Found the Eurocar in Bellevue on the parking space in front of a glitzy health club, the BMW I found Queen Anne Hill on the parking lot of a fucking school. Guess they stay there for some hours. Fucking school. Yeah, ya know this fuckin’ car is more money than I do in a year. And it’s not money they make. It’s the pocket money they give their kids as a present for a fucking diploma or what! Or just to their birthday.” She takes a deep breath. “Whatever.”
Nervously she’s flipping away her nic, then searching for an other one. Her fingers are shaking. “Roger, I can’t do it. I’m here smoking my seventh nicstick in a row, but I can’t go to Raven to ask him. I’m pretty roughed up and feeling tired. And I don’t know if I can stand it. So fuck it. I won’t go, hope you can do it. I try to get some money from Tick and maybe he’s willing to talk about the girls and what’s happening around here.”
Simlog #36, recorded by Babsie, At Tick’s
She is putting some german books on the shelter. The dwarf on the other side is flipping down his goggles to look at them. “The Busch is in bad shape. Where is the Christiane F?” “I told you, I don’t sell it.” “Too bad, too bad.” He is turning the pages carefully. “It’s from beginning of twentieth century. Somewhere around 1920 or 1930 I think. Wonder how it came up here. People are mad. You found it in a dumpster?” “Yeah. With the other german books. I kept them.” He’s making some noises with his lips, then whistles. “Yeah, girl. This one is definitely of some value for me. It’s in german gothic letters. You don’t see such very often anymore.” “Ja, I had problems reading the shit. But if you try hard it’s okay, after some time.” “Okay? Okaaaay?!” Tick is just throwing a nasty look at Babsie. “This is the original culture that was lost at that time. The original set of letters that Gutenberg was using for the first print of the bible. See? These letters are looking like someone was painting them with a feather. I’ll buy it. How much do you want?”
Babsie is just staring at the ragged thing and pointing to it. “That’s of value? Are you shitting me?” “Of course, of course, I have to put a lot of work in it. Restauration of the cover but it looks as if the pages are complete. The edges have to be cleaned but, yes, it’s actually of some value.” “How much?” “I’d give you two hundred.” “For the Busch?!” “No, for all of your books of course. They are in bad shape but they are rare enough to be of value. I can sell them. And if not, I will keep them. Two hundred my last offer.” “Okay, okay! Two hundred is it.”
They are exchanging money. “Hey”, she says. “Hey, what?”, asks Tick, while his hand grab quickly the heap of books that Babsie had brought to him. “You know these girls?” She’s showing Fairy Fay and Annie. “You asked that before.” “I mean, were they clients, did they sell you stuff?” “Everybody and nobody is selling me stuff, girl. What do you want to ask?”
“I just wonder”, she says. “Ja?” “If you have seen them on the days they vanished.” Tick is narrowing his eyes to slits. “Are you serious, girl?” “What?” “You ask me, if I might be the last one who have seen your friends, right?” “Erm, yeah.” “And if I’m telling you ‘yes, and I killed your friends and keep them just back here in a freezer until I have eaten them’, then what would happen then?” She gets really nervous and sweat is dripping down her forehead. “Erm, I’d scream and run.” “And you think, if I killed your friends I would let you go?” “W-w-would you… w-w-would you not…”
He is staring at her with a dark, black look. “I would be a bad girl murderer if I did.” She’s just spluttering and walking slowly back. “I… I… I didn’t think of… think of… I didn’t… mean…” “You didn’t think, girl. Yes.”
He starts to smile. “This is, what I thought. You better start thinking if you accuse people you don’t know of such things. Maybe the next time you are right and then you won’t make it out alive. Verstanden?” But she is just running now, bouncing off the one or the other shelf. “If you come next time, better bring that Christiane F. with you!”, he’s shouting after her. Then everything she can hear is his loud laughter.
She’s running up the stairs from the subterranean shop and jumping on her ride, after a sharp turn and evasion of some evil dumpsters she finally gets away, then stops at a corner, sits down at the gutter, lighting a cigarette. “Fuck!”, she says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I call that a day.”