I’ve got to keep a lid on it, I really do. I’m in a position to move up in the world at long last and I can’t afford to blow it – but it’s just so damn difficult to resist the urge. In the last few weeks, working with that Edgerunner team that’s gelled around the Desiderium boss, I’ve made more disposable cash than I could have with a half year of upper-storey jobs, and I got to do most of it from a classy hotel room! I even managed to afford to drop twelve grand on a couple of chips I’ve been waiting a year to buy, some very useful upgrades, and scored some killer ammo from the Candy guy. I’m pretty sure there’s more work coming from that source, but at least three of the guys – the ex-cop, the shell-shocked grunt and the “father” himself – would utterly wig out if I tried getting Artistic on their time. So, what to do?

Emmy helps. Quite a lot in fact. I thought she would be my next Artwork when I first saw her, cleaning up that back-room at Dangerous Seasons. I certainly enjoyed the prep, found it…cathartic. Following her home and then to work the next day, starting her file – movie clips, stills, the usual notes on habits – but then she spotted me in that shopping mall, recognised me – and spoke to me! Who would’ve thought I would end up with a maybe-girlfriend? I’m trying to keep a distance but she’s something else. Beneath that innocent look lies someone who enjoys a bit of Art practised on her in intimate moments. I suppose I should’ve guessed, her being Cavendish’s niece – being related to a strip-club manager and then working in that club must rub off the innocent pretty fast, no matter what the outward appearance might be. Still, that’s a major problem too. She’s Cavendish’s niece and on the Emir‘s payroll. She should’ve been a “no touchie” but instead I’m taking her to the holo-theater tomorrow night, then back to mine for some ropes and…

No, she can’t be Art. The rest helps, some, but it’s not the same.

The job itself helped some too – the Dreampark girl I overheard tell the barman she was going on a week’s vacation when she was relaxing in one of the park bars after work. Where’s that file still I took…oh, there it is. So pretty, she would’ve made a fine work if I’d had the time. I didn’t get the delicious build up, just dumped that pill I got from Jacob The Juice in her drink then steered her into renting a hotel room for a couple of days. The Art was in getting her secured her so she wouldn’t get in the way. She was so frightened she wouldn’t have slept the whole time, just lain there crying at me over the tape on her mouth, if i hadn’t used the rest of Jacob’s pills to knock her out. But I gave her a kiss before I left, of course. I’m pretty sure they’ll have found her in the headcount after they put out that fire. Still, not really a great piece of Art. I can do better.

I’m not sure this club’s helping at all, to be honest. Emily told me about it and I had to check it out – a place for Artists, even if none are of my caliber. Maybe if I superimpose the DreamCorps girl’s face on the girl on stage, the bottom one, and let my VR warp her into the scene.

OH no! Oh, no that won’t do at all. The urge to Art is so strong. Pay the bill, Randall…ok, yes, Wormwood, that’s my name now. Just drop money on the table and leave. Now!

Phew. Gotta keep it together. Take a little walk, clear your head.

Oh, she’s pretty…