Vuner was shaking so much as he signed in at the laboratory that his signature was barely recognisable. A bullet graze on his upper arm was throbbing, reminding him of how close his escape had been. Normally he never took a hit of anything at work, but today had to be an exception. He could not afford to call attention to himself by dropping glassware all day.
Schilden, the Senior Research Officer in the institute, was already in, and had just brewed some coffee in the staff room. Vuner slipped a capsule into his mouth as he sat down at the table, then accepted a mug from Schilden and gulped a mouthful of coffee.
"Young man, you look terrible, if you will pardon my saying," Schilden said in his thick Swiss-German accent.
"I was out in the park with my telescope last night," admitted Vuner sheepishly. "I just lost track of the time."
"But the sky was clouded last night."
"Most of the time," agreed Vuner, "but if you wait long enough there's always a few breaks to see through to the stars."
Schilden poured himself another mug of coffee, shaking his head and smiling. "Ach, you should have been in a bar, looking at girls."
Vuner had no telescope, but having a reputation as an amateur astronomer was a perfect cover for being up late on most nights. He fingered the graze that the bullet had left. It was level with his heart. If the Artery's hit man had been closer...
"Piss on the Artery," he muttered under his breath. He had put a dose of an experimental drug in with the last amphetamine batch that he had sold to them just for a joke. Some user probably died of it. Users had neither identity nor humanity for Vuner and the thought of possible deaths from his experiments moved him very little. He would have to sell his drugs directly to the local pusher cells now, but that was not a problem.
Vuner always smuggled his own chemicals into the laboratory. Ever since he had been employed as a temporary technician he had taken it for granted that the place had chemical audits and hidden cameras, so he never dared to steal his supplies from there. He had a legally acquired supply of chemical precursors, and needed only the right equipment to turn them into something marketable.
Originally he had worked in the bedroom of his flat, with improvised equipment that could be quickly dismantled and hidden. Late one night he had been making methamphetamine, and was heating hydriotic acid, ephedrine and red phosphorus. He had heard the siren of an approaching police car, and by the time it reached his street he had the lights out and was dismantling his apparatus. While fumbling with hot glass, he dropped a beaker. The police drove past.
)
Vuner had changed the world, and a lot of very angry people wanted to talk to him about it. Unfortunately for Vuner, he had become a god in order to escape.
