Oracle

         Everyone had worried about nuclear war-but it was conventional weapons that did us in.  Cities were bombed.  The UN took over governing duties.

***

         “Stop fucking with me,” Rabbit growled at the beady-eyed little man in front of him.  “I delivered your damn shipment.  Now give me my money.”

         “Yes, you delivered my shipment,” he man replied patronizingly.  “Missing $250,000 worth of merchandise.”

         “Bullshit!” Rabbit roared.  “If anything was missing, it’s because you got screwed over by your partners, not me!”  He was a fearsome looking man — six and a half feet tall, pure muscle, head completely shaved, covered in scars and tattoos.  And to top it all off, his eyes were a piercing steel grey.  He hoped it was enough to intimidate the man and his goons, but prepared himself for a firefight anyway.  The guy was a low-level gangster, trafficking only in drugs and prostitution, and his type was prone to hiring nothing but bat-shit crazy thugs for security.

         But luck was once again on Rabbit’s side.  The man finally nodded and motioned to his guards to stand down.  “You’re no fool, Rabbit,” he agreed.  “So I have another proposition for you.”

         “I’m not a damn hit man,” Rabbit snarled.  “Take care of it yourself.”  As his phone started to ring, he waved the man and his entourage off.  “Talk to me,” he said into the phone.

         “Mr. Raibeart,” a woman’s voice said.  She didn’t sound anything like the people he was used to dealing with — in fact, she sounded almost refined.  “I’m told you’re the man to speak to about a job I need completed.”

         “How do you know my name?” he demanded suspiciously.  He hadn’t used his real name in years, and kept it a tightly guarded secret.  “Who the Hell is this?”

         “Just a client, Mr. Raibeart,” she replied.  “I have a very delicate, and very important...shall we say...package...I need escorted.  Are you interested or not?”

         “How am I supposed to know this isn’t a trap?” he said.

         “You’re not.  But I’m prepared to make it worth your while,” she responded.  “If you accept, $750,000 will be delivered to you tomorrow.  Upon the package’s delivery, you will be provided an additional $750,000.”

         He hesitated.  Everything about this sounded suspicious-but that was a lot of money.  Enough to retire and get the Hell out of this God-forsaken shit-hole city.  “How far?” he asked.

         “Singapore to Saint Petersburg,” she said.  “You will have ten days for the delivery.”

         “That’s cutting it awfully close,” he reminded her.

         “But you can manage it,” she responded.  “Do we have an agreement?”

         He paused again.  All of his instincts screamed not to do it.  “Fine,” he finally acceded.

         “Excellent,” she said.  She even sounded somewhat relieved.  “I will send further instructions with your money.”

***

         Rabbit saw two women standing at the end of the pier when he pulled up.  One wore a long, black tunic over black leggings and boots, her hair covered with a black headscarf — the uniform of a New-Buddhist nun.  The other wore battered blue jeans, scuffed work boots, and an oversized hooded sweatshirt, her hands buried deep in the pockets to ward off the cold.  She also wore a scarf — much longer, and made of brightly multi-colored silk.  But it was wrapped so it covered most of her face and fell loosely enough over her hair to even hide most of her eyes.

         “I assume you’re the one I spoke to,” he said to the nun.  She nodded.  “Where’s the package?”

         “You’ll be escorting us,” she replied.

         “I didn’t sign up to be a damn coyote,” he growled.  “I don’t traffic in humans.”

         The other woman chuckled, and he glared at her slightly.  “You’re a smuggler, Mr. Raibeart,” the nun began.

         “You didn’t ask what that consisted of,” the other woman interrupted.  Even muffled by the fabric, her voice had a touch of an Eastern European accent.  “It’s your own fault for not getting the details of the job before you took it.”

         “Csilla,” the nun rebuked quietly.  From the matronly tone of her voice, Rabbit could guess she was the older of the two.

         “Listen, sister,” Rabbit snarled, “you want my help, you show me some respect.”

         “I’m not your sister, Evandrus Pahana Raibeart” she said pointedly, carefully emphasizing every word of his name.  “And I didn’t ask for your help.”

         “Csilla!!” the nun hissed in frustration.

         “You’ve got some balls, girlie,” Rabbit snapped.  She was taller than the nun, but still a good foot shorter than him, so he pulled himself up to his full height just to make sure he loomed over her.

         Finally, Csilla pushed back the scarf, revealing her face.  Her hair was dark brown — short, and slightly spiked — with blonde highlights dyed throughout.  But what caught his attention were her eyes — they had likely once been just as dark as her hair, but were now covered with a cloudy film.  Cataracts were common these days, especially in this area, but he’d never seen them so severe in someone so young.  “Look, are we done with this pissing match yet?” she sighed.  “I can’t see you.  You don’t intimidate me.”