"I want to give you the chance of getting back to the academy."
I got up from the floor and made my way to the couch, sitting down slowly. The numbness in my legs required more of my attention to find the point of contact. My sense of distance was off somehow. I finally felt the pressure and relaxed my muscles, hunching over.
Dropping the bloodstained rag on my thigh, I locked my fingers in front of me to make sure they were not trembling while I was talking. That would be unsightly.
I waited for some kind of response. Even a hint of happiness would be reassuring.
Doesn't matter.
"Let me walk you through it," I said. "What that would look like."
Stopping for a second, I opted for the shorter version instead.
"Within one to two weeks, you go back to the academy. Ideally. You pretend nothing happened and refuse to answer questions from anybody. You keep your head down. You go to class. You graduate. You get a nice Arasaka job, in whatever department you can manage. Maybe even something relating to asset protection."
He looked at me. His right hand twitched at the mention.
"Your slow-paced path toward a solid career relies solely on your decisions and luck. But I can nudge the process in the right direction a little to make it happen, to the best of my ability. Tell me, how much money did you find in your mother's accounts?" I continued.
David momentarily rubbed his right forearm with his left.
"Thirteen thousand six hundred. That's all I could find," David said, his voice still hoarse.
Gloria must have sold a lot of people to get that much money.
That is… I'll think about it later. Maybe Sasha will understand me.
"I'll get the rest for the tuition."
"Really? That's a lot of money."
"It's not your concern. I have ways to make enough eddies. You don't need to know where they come from, and neither does anybody else. We'll figure out some allowance as well, and get you a new uniform fitted."
He stared at me, waiting for me to continue.
"While we're on the topic, I think it's fair to say you should really get your shit together and get the best results at the academy. Your aim is to be at the top of Arasaka Tower, isn't it?" I asked, raising my pointer finger slightly for a second.
It's naive. But even with a vague plan like that, David can manage. He is David, after all.
David suddenly shook his head.
"Not really. Did I say that?" David asked apologetically, touching the bruises on his face.
"Wait. Isn't that something your mom used to say?" I asked.
David shook his head again, looking down at the ground.
"Don't think she did. I would remember."
My spine tingled, and I looked down at the floor.
Am I misremembering?
Did I fuck up the quote?
It was pretty prominent.
I couldn't have.
He must be lying, then. Not sure why, but he is.
It matters little. There is no time to think about this. I need to solve the issues at hand. I need to move this along faster.
"Never mind, then. Forget what I said. Tell me, you reckon you're going to have nightmares about the corpses? You shot two subhumans. Obviously entirely justified, if that makes you feel better," I said.
His eyes unfocused and his mouth opened a little as he struggled to process the simple facts.
I rushed.
I fucking rushed. I'm not sure there exists a therapist in this godforsaken place who does anything but sell drugs. I'll have to find someone.
Fuck.
"Don't you freeze up now. What's done is done. No use feeling bad for people who probably would have raped you if given the chance. Rushed in, killed the gonks and ran off. Never to be seen again. Did the best you could in that situation. I mean that," I rattled off, feeling my speech slur a little at the end.
"And the people there?" David asked meekly.
Star Star was stupid and deserved it. Another kid killed in the crossfire because they were stupid. The others seemed fine enough.
Compared to being dead. At least she didn't suffer. Star Star… fuck.
I'll have to deal with the last surviving guy later.
The gunman's face glitched up in the corner of my interface unexpectedly, and I quickly closed it.
I'll find you.
"It's for NCPD to deal with now. The best I can offer you is getting my hands on the official incident report," I responded, slowing down now to avoid any accidental stutter.
Obtaining it may prove too much work. Just saying that I can is enough. Going through Stella, Sasha's sister on the force, is my only stable and risk-free option for this. She owes me.
Now twice.
David bit his lip and nodded, then spoke up.
"Thanks. Really."
He paced around, and I waited as patiently as I could without showing my worry, until he asked the next question he obviously had on his mind. I tapped my foot lightly on the ground, feeling the vibration travel up my leg along with the faintest hints of pain from the wounds.
It felt strangely relaxing. Nice sharp pulses.
"What about my classmates?" David asked, restlessly looking for somewhere to sit.
I leaned my head back and noticed an incredibly faint blood splatter on the ceiling near the corner.
"I want nothing to do with them. Deal with those brats as you see fit. Less stupidity, hopefully," I reasoned, then continued. "On another note, are you familiar with a guy named Jimmy Kurosaki?"
David took off the coat with the eclipse and placed it on the table.
"Somewhat. It's not like I'm a fan or anything. I know his whole deal," David half-admitted.
David likes to watch some fucked-up shit amidst the porn BDs. I looked through this place not too long ago. The shorthand labels printed on them were enough to tell me how visceral they were.
"Well, Dee. I found out that Tanaka Ken, a board executive at the prestigious Arasaka Academy, is a big fan of his. Goes every now and again, in private, to pick up fresh batches of the vilest XBDs before they hit the streets. Practically alone, if you know when and where."
David nearly jumped up.
"You're going to kidnap him!?"
I sighed, looking back down. Kidnapping him is too much work and overkill for what I need to achieve. Simple blackmail would work.
Him asking these questions makes sense. Lacking the agency to even know what decides your future is agonizing.
It is like that for me.
"I'll just make sure that in the end he won't try to get you expelled, imprisoned or downright executed. All you have to do is hide out for a while and reduce any possible way for him to connect the dots. I doubt a corpo would value petty revenge over his career. Addiction to unproductive things is highly unwelcome at Arasaka. I'm sure you know that."
I paused.
"I'll ask you to stay silent about this whole ordeal, okay?"
David nodded earnestly.
I almost let out a sigh of relief at his reaction.
"I got it. What do I need to do?"
Looking David in the eyes, I saw fear. He tried to mask it with a clumsy show of confidence.
What for?
"The fuck? I said you don't. Don't mistake luck for skill. You weren't shot even once, and that was a miracle. Miracles are just that. You had a couple of good shots, and that's it. Don't be- Don't be stupid. Do you understand?"
David nodded.
"You'll hack him, then, right? Like you did today."
Hard not to notice.
"Those are just small tricks compared to what real pros are capable of," I said, being intentionally vague about whether I was a pro myself. No need to diminish myself further than I did today.
I still hadn't finished my loadout and was still relying on the most basic quickhacks. One Contagion execution would have cleared that place in a matter of seconds.
"I can be the bait or something," David suggested out of the blue.
Tilting my head, I gave it a little thought.
It's stupid. No other way to think about it.
He tries too hard to be useful.
"I hear you. It's a very, very shortsighted idea, but let's think about it together. Say we go to that remote place and let you get noticed."
"Yes," David said, already agreeing as he sat down.
"Why would the man follow you? And even if he did, he wouldn't do it alone."
"You can take out a guard or two, though. Then he's all ours," David suggested.
"Stop assuming we're going to kidnap him, Dee. One mistake and Arasaka Security is on the way, or worse, Trauma Team."
David looked confused.
"How is Trauma Team worse?"
This one I knew well.
"Third most dangerous in Night City, David. Right after The Night City Boogeyman himself and MaxTac. For obvious reasons, though you need to fuck up real bad to meet those guys. Trauma Team's elite operatives have unbelievable combat experience, not to mention the gear they're rocking. You need to be chromed out of your fucking mind to hold off even a single Trauma Team extraction squad. And the worst part?"
"What?"
I held up three fingers on my left hand, looking down to make sure the hand made the right motion.
"They arrive in three fucking minutes with the platinum package, and that's their upper time limit. Does Tanaka Ken even have the platinum package? I don't care. The risk is too big. There's no negotiating with them when the AV lands," I stated, letting my hand drop and vaguely feeling it land in my lap.
"So I'm not the bait. Then, blackmail?" David put it together.
"Yes. Path of least resistance. Get damning evidence, preferably of the man holding the XBDs or standing next to Jimmy Kurosaki. Play my hand right, and he won't even know who did it.
"The issue here is that he may try to find out how you're connected to it, and that's why you can't be involved, not even a little," I explained.
David reached over and grabbed a half-empty bottle from the table in front of him.
Waiting for him to finish, I prepared to leave.
David drank some fake juice, and his eyes went blank on the ceiling again.
"You dragged me into your shit yesterday, I dragged you into mine today. We'll call it even once this whole thing blows over. Just don't try your luck again. Personal experience tells me it runs out before you know it."
I said it slowly, not letting a single word slip past.
"Got it. What about the other option?"
I felt my face twitch with sudden frustration.
No way this brat just called the best deal I could muster an option. This sudden change undoes so many plans I had.
I'd take a huge hit here.
He is clearly way too unstable.
This was a bad idea.
He doesn't need to hear that.
"We're done talking. Now we move. Grab your shit. You're leaving now."
"What?"
"This is the first place they'll be looking. Don't be a dumbass."
I already had a place in mind from the last time I searched for somewhere David could stay.
"That's true…" David responded simply.
"Can't do it on an empty stomach? Man up," I said, standing up and feeling the blood rush back into my legs, bringing a little warmth with it as the small wounds started leaking again.
No need to leave my blood around. I began to clean up again using the rag.
"No. I just paid rent, that's all. This sucks."
I grabbed the eclipse coat from the table and threw it at David.
My fingers let go too late, and the coat snagged and fell toward the floor in front of David.
He caught it without thinking and pulled it up toward him.
Those Kiroshis really are something.
"Two weeks max. That's my promise," I said, trying to give a small, reassuring smile. I didn't know how this face looked smiling.
David found the sleeves and pulled the coat on in a hurry.
He needs to forget all about "the other option."
He does.
There is no better option out there.
Regardless of the initial plan.
That's right.
I can do that, can't I?
Yes.
I could do other things, but I chose not to.
Turning David into my personal elite merc.
It's a bit irrational.
With Search and Copy, I can do it.
But—
"Raf?" David called out, gently shaking me by the shoulder.
I had to let out a sharp breath.
"Don't take too much. The trunk is pretty packed already. You're crashing at a motel for now. One trip for today. Keep it on the down low."
David visibly began stressing out all over again, his eyes darting around the room looking for things he needed to take.
His gaze landed on the urn, and I quickly interrupted as he reached over.
"Pack it last. Where are the bags? I'll help out."
The bloodied rag slipped onto the floor, and I walked over to the wardrobe with measured steps.
It took twenty minutes, including a very clumsy attempt on his part to stuff his BD cases under the clothes in the plastic bags. I turned away while he did that. That's the least an adult can do. I used the time to make sure no drops of my blood were left on the floor.
In the end, we were left with five full plastic trash bags and two pairs of shoes strung together and thrown over David's shoulder. I didn't let him carry the bags under his arms, to keep the weight off his cracked ribs.
All that remained was the trophy revolver David had looted and Gloria Martinez's urn.
After a moment's pause, I reached over and grabbed the revolver, cleared out the five live rounds and the one spent casing, and stuffed them, along with the revolver, into my inner jacket pocket.
I caught David watching me from the corner of my eye.
"Want it back?"
David gulped, struggling to get the words out.
Then he answered simply:
"No."
"Suit yourself."
I zipped the jacket up over the revolver and picked up three of the bags. David took the other two without being asked, the urn tucked against his right side, away from the ribs, in a way that made me want to tell him to hold it with both hands, but I kept my mouth shut. It's his mother. He can carry her however he wants.
Stepping out into the corridor, I sequenced the door to lock behind us. For a moment I stood there and took a breath. It came out shaky.
The megabuilding cameras were the first thing on my mind. Every floor had them, the elevators had them, and it would be tough to avoid them entirely. Somewhere on a server in this building sat hours of footage of a glitched-out man and an obvious kid walking toward a very specific car.
With that, they would find me in no time at all. It's Arasaka.
I wrote to Yoko while we walked.
"Need cameras cleaned at H4. Today. Second floor, stairs, lobby, street. Paying good."
The reply came almost instantly.
"Call me."
Of course.
The corridor was crowded for the middle of the day. Somebody had dragged a speaker out into the hallway and was blasting music with the volume maxed out and nothing but bass left in it, and a bunch of kids were running circles around it, screaming.
Further down, a woman in a pink bathrobe was leaning in her doorway with a cigarette, watching everybody who passed. When she saw David, she straightened up and waved.
"David? That you?"
David slowed down. I didn't.
"Where's Gloria?" she called after him. "She still hasn't paid me back. There are penalties, you know." She gestured with the cigarette, spreading her fingers to look at her manicure. "Or did she finally flatline?"
David stopped walking.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"Oh, honey. Then who's going to pay?"
"Keep walking, Dee," I said, loud enough that she heard me.
The woman looked at me for the first time, and her face went sour.
"Who the hell are you?"
"None of your business. Go back inside."
"I was just asking-"
"Go back inside."
She opened her mouth to say something, looked me over, and went back inside, disdain all over her face.
David was already walking again, a step ahead of me, looking at the floor. He didn't say anything, and I didn't either. There was nothing useful to say, and anything I did say would come out wrong, in this voice, from me.
When we reached the elevator, there was a paper sign taped over the button that said OUT OF ORDER, and under it somebody had written AGAIN in marker, with three exclamation marks. We took the stairs.
Two flights down with five bags between us, and on each landing I glanced up at the camera dome and made a mental note of which way it was pointing, because I would have to tell Yoko exactly what to look for, and she'd make me pay for every minute she spent looking for it herself.
I called her from the middle landing.
It rang four times. When she answered, she was clearly eating something.
"Mm. What do you need?"
"Scrub H4. Nothing recoverable," I said, looking around to make sure nobody but David was paying attention.
"Hold on. Your voice sounds fucked up."
"Ignore it."
The line went silent.
David stood two steps below me with the bags, waiting.
"Yoko."
"I said hold on." More chewing. "Or is this urgent?"
"I'd rather get it done now."
"Gotcha. Which cameras?"
I listed them. Second floor corridor, east side. The stairwell, both landings. The lobby. The street out front, both directions, and anything with my car in it going back a week. Just to throw them off.
"A week," she repeated flatly. "You want a week of city street footage touched."
"Yes."
"Two and a half. They'll probably wipe my backdoor after this."
"Two."
"Two and a half, because you're asking for a week, and because you didn't ask how I'm doing."
God fucking damn it.
"How are you doing, Yoko?"
"Busy. Two and a half."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I'm hemorrhaging money.
"Fine."
"Good. I'll loop the street, wipe the building, and it'll be done when it's done."
"How long will it take?"
"A few hours, give or take." A pause. "Is Sasha with you?"
"She's at my place. Sleeping."
"She hasn't answered me since this morning."
I bit my lip and dodged the long conversation.
"Had a long night. She'll explain it better herself."
"Hm."
The call ended.
David readjusted his grip on the urn as I started walking again.
"I'm done. Let's go," I said.
We passed a crowd and walked out to the car.
Somebody had stuck a flyer under the Quadra's wiper. A cheap plastic sheet with a woman's face airbrushed smooth: LOST YOUR CHROME? WE BUY IT BACK. I pulled it off and let the wind take it down the street.
David looked over, and I opened the passenger door for him with a command.
Opening the trunk, I went to put the bags in and found that my fingers wouldn't let go of the handles. I stood there for a second, looking at my own hand wrapped around the plastic, trying to force it open, then pried the fingers loose one at a time with my other hand. They left deep red grooves across my palm.
I shook my hand to get rid of the marks and dropped the rest of the bags in. Then I sent the command to close the trunk and made sure it latched properly.
Getting into the driver's seat, I glanced at David. I adjusted myself in the seat and finally prepared to drive off. My right arm twitched. Annoying.
My palm suddenly landed on David's shoulder.
"You know you don't have to lie to me. You know that, David."
The words came out of my mouth on their own. And they came out on the wrong setting of my voice modulator, making me sound way older, like I'd smoked my entire life.
Pulling my hand back, I clenched my jaw, unsure how that could happen. SC? You can't do that, SC. I turned my face away from David.
///ELEVATED HEARTBEAT DETECTED…///
///…MEASURING…132 BPM…137 BPM…///
The tiny warning from the biomonitor flashed and went away.
You can't do it, SC. It's you, right? Right? Answer. You must answer.
"I- um? Okay. Got it," David blurted out, staying utterly still.
I quickly reapplied the voice modulator preset and responded. Something neutral.
"You'll be back here before you know it," I said in Rafael's voice.
He looked out the side window and stared in silence.
Search and Copy. Answer. Please.
How did you do that? Why did you do that? You could have— You might have— fucked it all up.
Piece of shit cryptic-ass robot. Answer me.
I don't understand. I just need to understand. What rules do you follow, SC? This is supposed to benefit us both. You said it yourself. Why?
Again, just silence. I was screaming at a voice inside my own head, and there was simply no answer. I dug my fingers into the steering wheel, trying to keep my grip steady.
I pulled out into the street.
For the first few blocks I didn't trust myself to talk. I kept my mouth shut, and at every red light I opened the modulator's settings and went through them line by line.
Presets, permissions, the access log. The log showed exactly two changes in the last hour. One to apply a temporary preset, in which the value of roughness of voice was adjusted from a 0.3 to a 1.0. And another was me switching back.
I revoked every external permission it had anyway. Nobody but me gets to change it. Confirm. Confirm again. Reconfirm.
Then it hit me that SC hadn't needed permission. It had gone through me.
I closed the settings.
David sat pressed against the passenger door with the urn in his lap and the seatbelt across both of them. He'd been sitting like that since we pulled out, as far to the right as the seat allowed. As far from my right hand as he could get without opening the door.
I didn't blame him.
It wasn't a bad thing to say. That was the worst part. It was exactly the right thing to say to a kid in his position, in exactly the right voice. Tired. Patient. Like a father.
But it's not me. I cannot speak like that. Fuck. SC if you could just-
"Raf."
I nearly jumped.
"What?"
"The light's green."
It was. Somebody behind us leaned on the horn.
"Mhm." I mindlessly agreed with David and pressed on the gas.
One step at a time. One step at a time… Rafael.
The hotel from last time was out. The receptionist there still had my call ID sitting in a cupboard behind his counter, and a hundred eddies had only ever bought his attention for one night.
The second place on the list was the Dewdrop Inn. Still in Arroyo, ten minutes out, and far enough from H4 that whoever went door to door around the megabuilding wouldn't think to try it. The 6th Street ran business out of it, so they kept it quiet. That was the whole appeal. Corpo security had no reason to go asking questions there, and anybody else would have to ask the 6th Street first.
David didn't ask where exactly we were going.
…
The Dewdrop Inn was wedged under the elevated highway, rust-colored girders crossing right over its roof, so the whole building sat in shade in the middle of the day. A cyan triangle of neon hung over the entrance with the name spelled out in yellow inside it. Half the tubes were dead. Next to it, a tall magenta sign said BEER.
Two men stood by the door. Old military jackets, small flag patches stitched onto the shoulders. One had a shotgun resting on his shoulder. The other had his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the Quadra as I pulled into the parking spot farthest from them.
I straightened out and killed the engine.
The next second David turned to me.
"Raf, can you give me a gun?" David suddenly asked.
I had planned to go in by myself first to check the place out. I didn't expect him to want a gun again so soon. An hour ago he didn't want to touch it.
"Which one? The revolver?"
"I did have a good shot with it, right?" It came out rough.
I nodded slightly, took out the old-school six-shot revolver, and carefully scooped the five rounds out of my inner pocket, keeping both below the dashboard where the two at the door couldn't see.
He took the revolver with both hands, low, below the dash the same way I held it. Then he opened his other hand for the rounds.
I dropped them into his palm. Five. His eyes flicked over them anyway, counting.
He loaded it himself. The second round slipped out of his fingers and rolled down between the seat and the door, and he dug for it without a word, twisting in the seat. Halfway through the twist his breath caught and he stopped, one hand pressed flat against his left side.
Then he finished reaching, found it, and kept going. Third. Fourth. Fifth. He closed the cylinder slowly so it wouldn't click too loud, like the two by the door could hear it through the glass.
The revolver went into the inner pocket of the eclipse coat. The coat was big enough to hide worse.
"Hand off it in there," I said. "Whatever happens."
"I know."
Getting out, I felt my knees lock and then give, and I caught myself on the roof of the car with my forearm. A dark patch was spreading on my pant leg just above the boot. The pellet holes had opened again. I didn't feel them.
Not important. I'll deal with the infection later.
Holding on to the roof, I walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. David took two bags and the urn before I could say anything. When he lifted the second bag, his mouth went tight at the corners.
"Give me that one."
"I got it."
He didn't hand it over. I let him keep it and took the other three.
The one with the shotgun watched us cross the lot. The other one had taken his hands out of his pockets. When we got close, the one with the shotgun tipped his chin at me.
"What's up? Staying?"
"Checking in."
His eyes went over David.
"Nice coat."
"Thanks," David said.
I scanned his face just to have the data. First name: Marcus. Last name: Hale. Age: 29. No active warrants. No bounty. One charge from three years back, aggravated assault, dismissed.
"Keep it quiet," the other guy said, and stepped aside politely.
First name: Travis. Last name: Pruitt. Age: 36. Bounty: 1,500. Illegal weapons possession. Assault with a deadly weapon. Both active.
Nothing too outrageous.
Walking slowly up the small steps, we entered the lobby.
Inside smelled like old carpet and something fried. A long metal counter ran along the whole wall with thick black bars going up to the ceiling. Two sheets of paper were taped to the bars. WE ONLY ACCEPT EURODOLLARS on pink paper. LOITERS WILL BE SHOT! on white.
Behind the bars sat an old woman eating noodles out of a carton with a fork. Seventy, at least. Dark skin, gray hair cut close to her head, reading glasses pushed up on her forehead. Her left hand was chrome, an old model, the plating worn to bare metal at the knuckles. Behind her was a shelf of cheap booze.
I scanned her face out of habit. First name: Odessa. Last name: Hale. Age: 74. No active warrants. No bounty. One closed record from forty-some years back, sealed.
The hand told me more than the database did. Under the worn plating at the wrist there was a stenciled serial and a faded unit code, the kind military surplus still carried. Not a civilian replacement. An issued one.
She only looked up when the door chimed shut behind us, and smiled like we were exactly who she had been waiting for all day.
"Welcome in, gentlemen."
"Room," I said.
"Room, please," she said, and kept smiling, and waited.
I don't have time for this. I gave David a glance. He understood instantly. You want independence? Here you go. I've had enough of people today.
"Room, please," David said. "It's for me."
"There we go." She set the fork down. "How long?"
"A week," David said.
A week. Not two. What faith you have in me, David. How do I explain that it's a coin toss, and I'm not even the one flipping it? Fuck.
"One week it is. Five hundred. Eddies only, and I don't need to see anybody's ID. Nobody makes trouble in my building, and I forget your faces by supper." She tapped one chrome finger on the counter twice, like that settled it.
I sighed and opened the transfer.
"I'll pay," David said.
I turned.
"That's your tuition money, Dee."
"It's my money."
"And I'm the one covering the rest of your tuition. Anything you spend here, I end up paying anyway," I reasoned.
"Then I'll pay you back for that too."
I gritted my teeth in agitation.
"Let the young man pay, Mister," the old woman said, without looking up from her noodles. "It's good for him."
Five hundred he would never owe me.
That shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did.
"Fine. Sure."
David quickly paid at the terminal and the woman began writing on the paper on her desk.
Then she looked at David properly. The bruises. The way he was standing, a little crooked, keeping the weight off his left side.
"You eat today, dear?" she asked, sliding a clunky pad out from under the counter, smooth side turned to us. She typed in five distinct presses as her metallic fingers clunked on the screen.
David hesitated.
"No."
"Vending machine's in the hallway, dear. It's plenty stocked." She tapped the pad. "And look here, sugar. That's your key."
David's optics flickered as they read it. Before the handshake closed, I skimmed it with my deck. The security was shit. I had a copy.
"Thank you, ma'am."
How nice of her not to ask about the urn.
She slid the pad back under the counter. Her eyes came to me then. Not unkind.
Then they went down to my leg.
"And you're dripping blood on my floor, Mister."
I sidestepped slightly and looked down. A few drops too many.
"I'll come back around and clean it up."
Leave no biological material behind. I need to check outside when I'm done here.
"Mm-hm." A roll of gauze dropped on the counter. "That's for my floor. Not for you."
She winked. I took the gauze with a nod.
Looking at it, I remembered the medkit under my car seat. I'd completely forgotten about it. Now I had two. How unfocused am I?
"Which room is it?" I asked plainly.
She answered David instead of me.
"106, sugar. End of the hall, you can't miss it."
The hallway started past a row of white lockers at the end of the counter. Yellow and green checkered tile, stained dark along both walls where nobody had mopped in years. A flattened piece of cardboard lay soaking in a piss puddle by the wall. Next to it stood an arcade cabinet, TWICE DICE in neon letters on top, the two dice on its screen rolling the same numbers for nobody.
Halfway down, a vending machine glowed blue.
A sharp chemical smell drifted down from the stairwell as we passed it. Whatever was being made upstairs wasn't food. Not my business. Not David's either, and I would make sure he understood that.
106 opened for him with a short click. The key worked. So did my copy, if I wanted it to.
The room was a bed with a thin mattress, a chair, and a window facing a concrete pillar that held up the highway. A ceiling fan rattled without making anything colder.
David didn't put the bags down first. He walked to the window and checked the latch. Then the door. He turned the lock back and forth twice, listening to it. Then he put the bags by the bed, on the side that faced the door, and set the urn on the nightstand. He turned it until the silver rose faced the room.
I placed the bags against the wall and closed the door behind us.
Quick scan didn't show any obvious cameras or listening devices.
"Now. Rules. You don't open the door for-"
"Anyone," David said. "I don't show the gun. I message you in the morning and at night."
I shut my mouth.
"And I'll get more rounds myself," he went on. His voice was still scratchy, and he cleared his throat and it didn't help. "Yeah."
It was good to see. It really was.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, facing the door.
"You can go," he said. "I'm good."
It was polite. It was also the first time he had told me to leave.
"Get some rest. And food."
"I will."
Nodding in satisfaction I turned away and went outside. I let out a big sigh once I heard that the door finally slid shut behind me.
Back in the lobby I slowly crouched by the counter and wiped up my own blood with the unwrapped gauze, drop by drop, until the floor was as dirty as it was before I came in. I heard steps approaching just about when I almost got done.
Marcus Hale, one of the men from the outside approached. He first gave a quick glance towards the old woman and back to me. He frowned slightly.
"Hey, man. I'll do it." he said.
Standing up I offered the dirty cloth and it was snatched from my hand.
I waved to the woman as I got outside. I want to see Sasha.
…
The pharmacy was a counter and three shelves wedged between a noodle bar and a shuttered clinic. The man in front of me was arguing about a refill. The date on his script was fine, he said. It was their system that was wrong. The pharmacist kept repeating the same sentence back to him with the words in a different order.
I stood there holding a basket I didn't remember picking up.
Sleeping medication. Vik said it wouldn't be a problem. Just adjust the dosage.
Adjust it to what?
I read the back of the box. Dosage by body weight. Most of her was metal and plastic. How much did the part the pills were for weigh?
Two boxes went into the basket. Then the cooling packs, the kind you snap. Electrolyte powder. Four bottles of Real Water, medical edition. A washcloth, because I didn't own a clean one.
The refill man finally left, still talking. The pharmacist looked at my basket and then at me.
"Do you have a member's card?"
"No. Fuck you. I don't want one."
"Okay…They make me ask it. I hope you know that." he said and began scanning my items.
I paid 162 eddies and walked out.
Just when I was about to get in the car I saw a stall with tacos. Sasha will love those.
…
I opened the garage from the end of the street and drove in under the shutter before it was all the way up.
The door to my old room was open.
I had closed it. The door must be closed.
Yes, it must.
I left the bags on the passenger seat and I don't remember crossing the garage.
The bottle of water I had left by the door this morning was on its side, and the floor around it was dark and wet. The blanket was gone from the mattress, bunched up by the wall.
Sasha was on the floor between the mattress and the door.
She was on her side on the concrete, knees pulled up, one arm stretched out toward the doorway. Her hair was stuck flat to her face, soaked filthy from the floor. Her fingers were curled in on themselves, stiff, like she had been gripping something for hours and had forgotten how to let go.
"Sasha."
Nothing.
I went down on my knees next to her. The heat came off her before I even touched her. When I did touch her shoulder, she flinched away from my hand hard enough to hit her head on the floor.
"Hey. Hey, hey. It's me." I said, cleaning the hair from her face.
Her eyes were half open. The blue barely showed, and it was shaking. Small, fast movements, left and right and left, like they couldn't find anything to land on.
"It's me. Sasha. I'm back."
Her lips moved. What came out wasn't a word.
What words do I know?
The next moment my hands were already under her, and she was already in my arms. I put her back on the mattress and she curled up on it the same way she had been curled on the floor.
I switched the voice modulator off. It should work.
"Sasha. It's Caelen."
Her fingers twitched. And that was all.
No. No.
I dashed back towards my car to get the medication. On the way there my ankle slipped and I fell towards the floor. Catching myself on my elbows, I managed not to plant my face in the concrete.
Stumbling I managed to get on one knee but then suddenly my vision blurred and I lost all of my balance, falling over on my side.
Attempting to recover I adjusted my legs and the floor tilted the other way.
I lay there with my cheek on the concrete and waited for it to stop. It didn't. The garage turned slowly around me, a car sliding on ice that never hits anything. The shutter went past. The tire rack. The Quadra. The open door. Then all of them again, in the same order, a little faster.
Get up. The medication is in the car. Get up. Sasha needs it.
My arm moved. My hand landed somewhere near my face and stayed there.
Something warm ran over my lip. I wiped it with the back of my wrist. Red. Then more red, dripping off my chin onto the concrete in fat drops, faster than I could count.
Nosebleed. Fine. Head forward. Pressure. I know this.
I didn't move my head.
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
I dismissed it.
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
The window split in two when I dismissed it, and the second one stayed. Then three. They overlapped and smeared until the letters were just red shapes sitting on top of the garage.
I told my eyes to look at the shutter. They slid off it. I told them to look at my hand. They slid off that too. Nothing would hold still long enough to be anything.
The ringing started in my left ear. Thin. Flat. Then my right. Then both, louder, like someone was holding a note and never had to breathe.
///CORE TEMPERATURE RISING…///
///HEART RATE 141 BPM…///
Okay. That's all. I get the pills, I lie on the cold floor, I-
-left at the light, no, the other light-
I stopped.
-left-
That wasn't me.
-did I turn the stove off? I turned it off. I didn't turn it off-
Hello?
-forty-two, forty-three, forty-
Is someone there? Hello?
-the blue one, not the blue one, the other blue one-
SC? Is that you? What is it?
Hello?
"Who-" My mouth was full of copper. "Who is that?"
-forty-four-
Hello? I can hear you. Can you hear me?
-the plan-
Adjustment.
That one came from the back of my skull. From behind my eyes. The place I'd been talking into for weeks.
SC.
SC, stop. Whatever you're doing, stop it.
Continue.
…
Mom?
-third floor, it's on the third floor, why does nobody ever listen-
Mom, it's dark-
-forty-five-
It's not my fault, I told him it was off by two centimeters, I TOLD him-
-do you take card-
Hello?
-who moved my-
-sorry, sorry, sorry, wrong number, sorry-
Mom?
They didn't take turns. They didn't wait for each other. They came over and under and through each other, the same volume, the same distance, all of them right at the center of my head where there was no room for them.
I put my hands over my ears. Nothing. Of course nothing. They weren't coming in through my ears.
"Shut up," I said to the floor. "Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up-"
-language-
-up, shut up, shut-
-what did I say?-
-I said shut up-
-who said?-
Hello?
-forty-six-
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
-is this the bus? Is this the right bus?-
-he's bleeding-
-who's bleeding?-
-somebody's bleeding on the-
-the floor's cold, the floor's so nice and cold-
-I like the floor-
-forty-seven-
Where's my-
-where's my-
-WHERE'S MY-
They stopped. All at once, mid-word.
Silence. Only the ringing.
I lay there with my mouth open, breathing through the blood.
Then one of them, very quietly, right next to my ear.
…keys?
And they all came back.
-keys keys keys keys keys-
-in the door, they're in the door, I left them in the-
-the door's open-
-who left the door open?-
-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-
-it's not even my door-
-tell her I'm sorry-
-tell who?-
-the tall one, with the coat-
-there's no tall one-
-there's always a tall one-
-thirty-two eddies, that's what it says, thirty-two-
-that's robbery-
-everything's robbery-
-did you see the game?-
-what game?-
-the one with the-
-I didn't see it-
-I never see it-
-I always miss it-
The translation chip woke up. Little white subtitles started crawling across the bottom of my vision, under the red warnings, trying to keep up.
-¿dónde está mi hermano?-
WHERE IS MY BROTHER?
-まだ終わってない-
IT'S NOT OVER YET.
-我不知道-
I DON'T KNOW.
-¿dónde-
WHERE-
-まだ-
NOT YET-
-我-
I-
The subtitles stacked on top of each other until they were a white smear, still crawling, still trying to translate the ones it didn't have a language for.
[UNKNOWN LANGUAGE]
[UNKNOWN LANGUAGE]
[UNKNOWN LANGUAGE]
-I had an appointment, I had an appointment at four, they'll give my spot away-
-the dentist-
-the funeral-
-the interview, I'm going to be late for the interview-
-I'm wearing the wrong shirt-
-it's the only shirt I have-
-is it raining?-
-it's always raining-
-it never rains here-
-where's here?-
-I need to pee-
-not now-
-I REALLY need to-
-NOT NOW-
I laughed. I don't know why. It came out of me wet and wrong and turned into coughing, and the coughing put more blood on the concrete.
-he's laughing-
-why's he laughing?-
-it's not funny-
-it's a little funny-
-who's he?-
-who's laughing?-
-is that me?-
-was that me laughing?-
…
Call. Vik.
My contacts slid up from the bottom of my vision the way they always did when I asked for them. I hadn't asked for them.
Call him.
Call who?
Him. The one. The doctor one.
VIK. Dialing.
No-
Call ended.
Call.
VIK. Dialing.
-he doesn't come to houses-
-why doesn't he come to houses?-
-nobody comes to houses anymore-
CALL MY MOTHER. I MISS HER.
Call ended.
///That caller id doesn't exist…///
Call.
VIK. Dialing.
Ringing. Once. A real tone, small, under the other ringing sung by the voices.
Pick up. Vik. Pick up. Please-
Hang up, you're embarrassing me.
Call ended.
Call her.
STELLA. Dialing.
-badge, she has a badge, she has a BADGE-
Call ended.
Call.
YOKO. Dialing.
A click. Chewing.
"Mm. What."
-what do you want, what do you want, what do you WANT-
"Hello?" Yoko said.
Call ended.
She heard that. She heard breathing. She heard me.
Call the kid.
No.
DAVID. Dialing.
No, no, no, not him, not him-
I grabbed for it. Not with my hands. With whatever part of me still remembered how to close a window. It slipped. I grabbed again.
Call ended.
I didn't know who did that. Me or them. One of them. Someone who liked the kid.
Call the old man. The tall one. The one with the bar.
SHOTO REIYA. Dialing.
Everything in me went cold at once, even through the heat.
Not him. Not him. Anyone but him. If he hears this-
My whole body clamped. Every muscle at once, like a fist. I couldn't feel myself breathing anymore.
Call cancelled.
Call Mom.
No contact found.
Call Mom.
No contact found.
Call-
Call-
Call Mom call Mom call Mom call Mom call Mom-
No contact found. No contact found. No contact found. No contact found. No contact found.
Why doesn't she have a number?
-everybody has a number-
-she had a number, I knew the number, it started with a four-
-a seven-
-it started with a-
-I don't remember the number-
-I don't remember the number I don't remember the number I don't-
The messages window opened by itself. A new message. The recipient filled itself in.
DAVID.
The cursor blinked.
m
mo
mom
Send it.
-send it, he'll know, he'll know what it means-
Don't. Don't you dare. Delete it.
-send-
Delete.
mo
m
The field went empty. The cursor kept blinking in it, waiting for somebody, anybody, to decide what to say.
…
I'm hungry.
-when did I eat-
-I don't remember eating-
-I ate, I ate yesterday, I ate a whole-
-you didn't eat-
Order something.
A Delamain booking screen opened, bright and polite. Yet I heard nothing.
Hello. Where would you like to go today?
Home.
Please specify an address.
Home. Take me home.
Please specify an address.
-the one with the green door-
-the one by the water-
-the one my dad sold-
-I don't have one-
-fourteen-twenty-
Please specify an address.
-Daniels. Fourteen-twenty Daniels. Four-B-
Destination confirmed. Your Delamain will arrive in approximately eleven minutes.
Voices recited everything he said. Cancel it. Cancel. Cancel-
Ride cancelled. You will be charged a cancellation fee.
We hope to see you again soon.
-delamain-
-what bag?-
-never look in the bag-
-I looked in the bag-
-oh no-
-oh no, oh no, oh no-
CULL.
That one was louder than the others. Heavy. It came with heat, all the way down my spine, and metal in my throat, and glass going past the edges of my vision floor after floor after floor.
Keep going up.
-up where?-
-up the-
-all the way to the top-
-the top of the-
SEARCH.
-top of the tower, Mom said, the top-
-Mom never said that-
-she said it, I heard her say it-
-you never heard her-
-whose Mom?-
-whose?-
COPY.
…
Lights. It's too bright.
The garage went dark.
I can't see. Lights.
On.
Off.
Off.
On.
On.
Off on off on off-
On. Off. On. Off. Faster. The whole garage strobing white and black around me, and every time the light came back the Quadra was somewhere else, the shutter was somewhere else, the door to my room was somewhere else, and my own hand was lying in a slightly different place on the floor in front of my face.
I reached for the console permissions. I knew exactly where they were. I set them up myself. My hands didn't know what a permission was.
-turn it all on-
-all of it-
-everything, I want to see everything-
The Quadra started.
That low growl in your bones. The headlights came up full, two white suns pointed straight at my face, and the ringing rose to meet them like they were the same sound.
Go.
-go, we're late-
-we're always late-
-we're not even supposed to be here-
The horn. One long flat note, bouncing off the garage walls until it was inside the ringing and I couldn't tell one from the other.
The doors hissed open. Both sides.
///TURRET INTERFACE: NO AMMUNITION///
Thank god. Thank god I never restocked it.
Get in.
-get in, get in, get IN-
-where are we going?-
-anywhere-
-home-
-there's no home, I told you there's no-
Then the shutter motor started.
That grinding hum. A strip of gray daylight opened along the bottom of the garage and began to grow.
The street. Anyone walking past. Anyone driving past. Anything flying over.
Drones. They scan. They'll see her.
That one was mine. I was almost sure that one was mine.
Close it. Close it. Close it close it close it-
-air, let some air in, it's so hot in here-
-why is it so hot-
-I'm cooking, I'm cooking in here-
I had nothing left to reach with.
And then it stopped.
It shuddered, and hummed, and started coming back down.
I didn't do that.
There was someone by the wall. A blur, then a shape, then a blur. Small. Leaning on the wall with her whole body, the other hanging at her side, shaking so hard I could see it from the floor.
The shutter hit the concrete. The motor cut out.
"Who's-" Her voice broke in half. "Who the fuck is opening the door?"
-who's that?-
-is that Angie?-
-that's not her-
-who's that?-
Sasha.
…
She let go of the console and the wall at the same time, and her legs gave out, and she went down on her knees. Hard. I heard it through everything.
She didn't stay down. She started to crawl.
-she's coming-
-who's coming?-
-hide-
-why are we hiding?-
-forty-eight, forty-nine-
"Caelen."
That one was real.
It was quieter than all of them put together. Raw. Scraped thin. And it was the only one that was actually in the room.
"Caelen. Hey. Hey, hey, hey."
A hand on my face. Hot, like a mug just off the stove. It pushed the hair off my forehead and stayed there.
"Look at me. Dummy. Look at me."
My eyes found blue. Half a second. Two pieces of it, shaking almost as badly as mine. Then they slid away again, to the headlights, to the open doors of the car, to nothing.
"Okay. You can't. Okay. That's okay."
A sleeve under my nose. It came away. Came back. Came away.
"You're bleeding. Fuck. You're bleeding a lot."
-head forward, not back, never back-
-who said that?-
-somebody who knows-
-nobody knows-
"Why is the car on?" She was panting. "Caelen, why is the car on?"
-we're late-
The horn again. She flinched so hard her knee hit my shoulder.
"SHUT UP!" She screamed it at the car. At the whole garage. "Shut up, shut up, shut UP!"
The horn stopped.
I don't know if she did that. I don't know if I did. I don't know if one of them just lost interest.
…
Is anyone there?
-I'm here-
-where's here?-
-I don't know where here is-
-this isn't my room-
-this isn't my floor-
-whose floor is this?-
-a dead woman's-
-who said that?-
-somebody said a dead woman's-
-I didn't say anything-
-somebody did-
Rosa's floor. Rosa's garage. Rosa's car with its doors hanging open. And I was dying on the floor of it.
-who's Rosa?-
-I don't know a Rosa-
-I knew a Rosa, she sold flowers, she-
-no-
-it's raining, I forgot my-
-it's not raining-
-it's always raining-
-it's Saturday-
It's Saturday. Sleep in.
Messy warm hair. Crooked blinds. Morning on the other side of a world that doesn't exist anymore.
I knew her. I knew her better than anyone in this city. And when I reached for her name there was a clean gap where it should be. Neat edges. Like somebody had cut it out with scissors.
-Kacey-
-Laura-
-no-
-Lauren-
-no-
-no-
I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't remember your name.
-whose name?-
-mine?-
-what's my name?-
-what's your name?-
"Caelen," I said. Out loud. Or I thought I said it.
-no-
-no, your name-
-your real one-
-the one your mother gave you! YOU DARE TO FORGET IT?-
I opened my mouth.
There was nothing there. Not a word I couldn't reach. Not a shape on the tip of my tongue. Nothing. Like the nothing behind a wall.
-he doesn't know-
-he doesn't know his own name-
-who doesn't?-
-I don't-
-I don't either-
-what's MY name-
"Caelen." Sasha's voice. Right above me. Her fingers in my hair. "Caelen. It's me. It's Sasha. Stay here. Stay with me."
She held me down.
Caelen. Fine. That's what she calls me. That's who I am in this room.
That'll do.
That'll have to do.
…
I lift her and she's so light, and she grabs one finger, her whole fist around one finger-
-say it again-
-say it again, baby-
-Da-
-Da-da-
I never held a baby. I never once held a baby.
Daddy?
-Daddy, are you coming home?-
-when are you coming home?-
I don't have kids. I was single my whole life.
I was.
I was.
I think I was.
-you said you'd be home by six-
-it's way past six-
-it's always way past six-
Daddy?
Integrate.
I check the pupils. Left one's lazy. Kid can't be older than twenty-five. Looks like nobody's fed him in a week. Somebody's been feeding him chrome instead of food. Families never come. They come at the end, when there's paperwork-
No.
That's me. I'm the one on the floor.
-I'm the one on the floor-
-no, I'm the one on the floor-
-we're all on the floor-
-the floor's nice-
-the floor's so cold-
Resist.
-left at the light-
-I turned it off, I'm sure I turned it off-
-do you take card-
-forty-nine, fifty-
-is this the right bus?-
-where's my-
-keys-
-where's my-
-where's my mom-
…
-turn left-
-turn right-
-I can't turn, there's a wall-
-there's always a wall-
-the wall's warm-
-why is the wall warm?-
-somebody's on the other side of the wall-
-knock-
-don't knock-
-knock knock-
-who's there?-
-nobody-
-nobody who?-
-nobody's here, nobody's ever been here-
Glitch-white static crawled over the edges of my vision, over the edges of the garage, eating the corners first.
-h̷e̷l̷l̷o̷?-
-is̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶-
-w̵h̵e̵r̵e̵-
-I c̸a̸n̸'̸t̸ ̸h̸e̸a̸r̸ ̸y̸o̸u̸-
-you're breaking up-
-I'm breaking up-
-we're all breaking up-
-NIGHT CITY'S NUMBER ONE CHOICE FOR-
An ad. Somebody's memory of an ad, playing at full volume in the middle of my skull, the jingle chopped off halfway and looping.
-NUMBER ONE CHOICE FOR-
-NUMBER ONE CHOICE-
-NUMBER ONE-
-turn it off-
-I can't find the remote-
-who has the remote?-
-Mom has the remote-
-she is dead?-
-where's-
One. Two. Three.
-four-
Four.
-five, six, seven-
Five.
-forty-eight-
No. Five. Six-
-fifty-
Six. Seven. Eight-
-a hundred and twelve, a hundred and thirteen-
I lost it. I lost my own count. I'm useless.
-I'm in a car, I'm in the back of a car, the window won't go down-
-I'm on a bus-
-I'm on the floor-
-I'm in a bed, it's my bed, the sheets smell like her-
-I'm in a box-
-I'm not anywhere-
-I'm here-
-here where?-
-HERE-
-there's no here-
…
Not that synth shit.
That voice was different.
Real food. Something with actual meat in it.
I knew that one.
God, I miss her.
V.
Where the fuck am I? This isn't my place.
Why would you have him. SC. Why would you have him. When.
When did I eat last? I can't remember the last time I ate.
Cull.
I should call her. How long since I called her?
Call Mom.
No contact found.
She would've hated it here. She'd have said I could do better.
-could do better-
-I could do better-
-we could all do better-
-where am I?-
-where is this?-
-where-
…
-hello?-
-left-
-the stove-
-Mom-
-forty-
-up-
-the bag-
-Daddy-
-keys-
-home-
-where-
-hello-
-hello-
-HELLO-
SILENCE.
It didn't come from the back of my skull anymore. It came from everywhere. From the floor, the walls, the ringing, the headlights. It came through every single one of them at once, each of them saying it in their own voice and all of them saying it in its voice.
INTEGRATE.
RESIST.
///NEURAL LOAD EXCEEDS SAFE PARAMETERS///
///CORE TEMPERATURE CRITICAL…///
///HEART RATE 168 BPM… RISING///
HUD windows popped up and closed down, tens of times a second. A diagnostic was issued and then stopped.
I couldn't feel the floor. I couldn't feel my hands. I couldn't tell where my body stopped and the concrete started. I couldn't tell which one of them was thinking this sentence.
Was it me?
-was it me?-
-was it me?-
-was it-
Is this one me?
Am I one of them?
Am I just the one that's loudest?
-I'm the loudest-
-no, I am-
-I'm quiet, I've always been the quiet one-
-nobody ever heard me anyway-
-I said it, I said it so many times, nobody heard me-
-I'm out there, you know-
-let me out-
-the door-
-the keys-
-the stove-
-Mom-
-I'm sorry-
-I'm sorry-
-I'm so sorry-
-for what?-
-I don't remember-
-I don't remember what I'm sorry for-
-I'm sorry anyway-
Escape.
THAT WRETCHED CELL.
"In."
Smaller than any of them. Smaller than all of them.
"In. Caelen. Breathe in."
There was something under my head. Soft and much too warm. My head had been on the concrete. Now it was on something that breathed.
Her lap.
I don't know when. I don't know how. She couldn't stand up a minute ago. She could barely crawl.
"Breathe with me. Come on. In."
I tried. Something in my chest caught halfway and stopped.
-hello?-
"In."
Air. A little.
"Out."
I let it go.
-forty-
"In."
More.
-where am I?-
"Out. Good. That's good. You're doing good."
Adjustment.
SC?
"In."
Continue.
"Out."
Her fingers in my hair. Shaking. Every few seconds the shaking got so bad she had to stop and hold still, and I felt her whole body go tight behind my head, and then she started again.
"In."
The ringing got thinner.
"Out."
-my job-
"In."
-i'm going to be late-
"Out."
-I'm sure I want it-
"In."
The one looking for keys stopped looking.
"Out."
The one counting stopped at fifty-one and never said fifty-two.
"In."
The child stopped asking where Mom was. Somebody stopped saying hello into a room where nobody answered.
"Out."
It's Saturday, she said. Sleep in.
I didn't. I couldn't. I let her go anyway.
"In."
They went quiet one by one, the way windows go dark in a building at night, until there was only one light left on somewhere high up.
Where am I?
I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't know.
Then that one went out too.
"Out."
The Quadra's engine died. The headlights went with it. The doors hissed shut. One. Then the other.
"In."
The garage stopped turning.
"Out."
The lights stayed on.
A hand wiped my face.
…
I opened my eyes and they did what I asked.
Familiar ceiling. One face, upside down above me. Pale. Sweaty. Blue eyes, red around the edges, still shaking a little, but looking at me. Actually at me. A long streak of my blood drying on her sleeve, all the way to the elbow.
Every wound I had screamed out in that moment, and I gritted my teeth from the pain.
"Hi," Sasha said.
I tried breathing normally again.
"Hi."
My voice. My own. The modulator was still off. I didn't know whose voice I expected to come out.
The ringing was gone. My nose had stopped. I moved my fingers, both hands, and they moved when I told them to and stopped when I told them to. The biomonitor was empty. No warnings. Heart rate sliding down. Every number crept back to where it belonged, like it was embarrassed to have been anywhere else.
Her fingers were still in my hair.
"You scared the shit out of me," she said.
"I scared you?"
"You did." She swallowed, and it looked like she forced herself to speak. "I didn't know what was happening. At first I thought Biotechnica tracked me somehow."
She was burning up. I could feel it through the back of my head, through her legs, through everything. She was swaying a little, sitting there, and her eyes kept drifting shut and opening again, like she was holding them open for me.
Sleeping. She had just been sleeping. On the concrete, curled up like that, because the mattress was too hot and the floor was cold. That was all it had been.
"Why were you on the floor?"
"Floor's cold." Her mouth moved into something close to her usual smirk. "You should try it. Oh, wait."
I didn't laugh. Though I wanted to.
"How long?" I asked.
"Dunno." She leaned in closer. "Are you all good now?"
I opened the log.
It had timestamped all of the hundreds of major actions within my system. I looked at the earliest one.
Four minutes and fifty-two seconds.