9:30 pm and it was still hot as hell. I walked the length of King's Street, sweat on my skin, a rumble in my stomach, past the stalls bristling with votives, orgone pyramids, quantum holos, quartz fetishes, and algorithms scribbled on scraps of plastic. Most of the gris-gris sold here were shoddy knockoffs just as likely to pop your brain as they were to fix what ailed you.
        At Kelly's, I bought a slice of pizza and two sativa cigarettes. I wished there was enough for worm dirt but only had two bucks to my name. I finished the slice in three bites and was about to light the first cig when I ran into Randy outside.
        "Chance Bú," he said.
        "What?" I grumbled.
        "My lucky day. I need someone to work the door tonight."
        I sighed. Randy ran a club called Benders. Mostly local bands, a few national acts. It wasn't bad. Wasn't great but wasn't awful.
        "Pay?"
        "Twenty bucks," Randy said. "Three acts on the bill. Opener's been generating some buzz. Should be a good show."
        "Sure," I said. "Hey, can you buy me a cuppa worm dirt?"
        "Comes outta the twenty."
        "Yeah, that's fine," I said.
        I was still milking the coffee when I arrived at Benders. A small line had already formed, mostly street kids in ripped denim and flannels. Randy got me situated at the entrance before disappearing inside.
        Before long, the crowd started pouring in, shoving grubby five-dollar bills and laminated IDs at me. I didn't check the birthdates, just scrawled black Xs on the backs of fists and ushered people through. Then. . .
        "You old enough to be here?"
        I looked up. A smug dude stared back at me. He had some uncotech behind his ear. Expensive looking.
        "What's it to you?" I said.
        "I hear you got a rep down on King's Street with your books and your parlor tricks," he said. "You ain't clear, though."
        I gritted my teeth. He narrowed his eyes.
        "You tryna graywall me?" he said. "Ain't gonna work."
        That damn uncotech. I felt him punch through and take what he wanted.
        "Seventeen, huh? Your parents know you're here?"
        "Fuck you," I replied. I balled my hand into a fist, ready to go physical when a melodious voice chimed in.
        "Hi, Chance," Maggie said.
        I immediately softened.
        "How you doing, Maggie?" I said.
        "I'm good. Don't mind Vin. He's just having a bad day."
        Vin snorted. "Let's go. Don't waste your time on this kid Maggie."
        Maggie rolled her eyes at Vin while I took her hand and marked it with an X even though I knew she was only a year older than me.
        "See you round," she said, turning to leave.
        "Hey, you want one of these?" I blurted holding out one of my sativas to her.
        "Yeah, thanks," she said and smiled.
        I smiled back.
        The opening act wasn't bad. They played fast, sloppy, & loud and were pushing some crazy pneuma. The crowd was soon transfixed, and I quickly realized why. The scraggly lead singer had a quantum holo stuck to his wrist. Cheap back alley shit from the look of it. It was glowing, feeding on the crowd's energy. He could feel it too, the smile on his face said so, though I don't think he understood the ramifications.
        "Fuck," I said. "He's gonna fry himself."
        I knew once he blew, it was gonna be a bad day, especially for anyone with a clear pineal eye. I glanced for Maggie but couldn't find her. She'd be okay, though. She was closed off to that nonsense. I took twenty bucks from the door's earnings, hid the rest under the bar, and quietly slipped out the front.
        As I made my way to King's Street, I laughed imagining Vin suffering the worst psychic hangover ever the next day. A mind can be clear as crystal, but it ain't worth salt if you can't see what's two feet in front of you. Asshole got what he deserved. I also thought about that musician up there with the back alley holo burning away to blissful oblivion. He wouldn't be playing any encores, but damn no one would forget that set. I envied him. What a way to go. I hoped mine would be as memorable.
       For now, I had a cuppa worm dirt in my veins, twenty bucks in my pocket, and a sativa cig behind my ear.
       It was gonna be a good night.