The offer of the sponsor came on 6:47 AM.
Rook was awake. He hadn't slept. Four hours of his gazing had been spent on the ceiling, that was average, in night after night after a kill. The place where the spear cut him pained his forearm. His ribs ached. In other places his coat was still wet.
The notification flashed right into his peripheral vision that integrated UI, displaying the system messages behind his eyes in the form of an unwanted thinking.
NEW SPONSOR OFFER
BRIGHTSMILE DENTAL CORPORATION.
TIER: BASIC
DURATION: 3 MONTH TRIAL
REQUIREMENTS:
DISPLAY LOGO DURING MATCHES
SMILE DURING KILLS
IN POST FIGHT INTERVIEW The use of BRIGHTSMILE.
COMPENSATION:
2,500 CREDITS/MONTH
Basic Subscription Discount (15%).
Free Whitening Kit of Teeth.
ACCEPT / DECLINE
The notification stood there a long time as Rook stared at it.
Teeth whitening, Debt Collector said. They have a desire that you smile as you kill people, and they will whiten your teeth so that the blood will be seen well on film.
"...yeah."
This is what the system believes to be a sponsor offer.
This is what the system deems as an opening sponsor offer.
Rook swiveled the notification off.
OFFER DECLINED
FEEDBACK: (OPTIONAL)
He failed to fill in the comments box.
At 8:12 AM, the landlord made this reminder.
RENT DUE: 4 DAYS
CUMulative total outstanding balance: 15.700 credits.
PAYMENT DUE: 72 days of notification.
LATE PAYMENT: EVICTION Proceeding filed.
The duel money had paid him 8,200 credits as a result of the duel with Reiko.
He was short 7,500.
You might take the toothpaste deal, Debt Collector, Debt Collector, suggested. Two five hundred each month. It's not nothing."
"They want me to smile."
"You've smiled before. I've seen the muscle memory. It's not impossible."
"Not while I'm killing someone."
"...no. I suppose not."
Rook pulled on his coat. The bloodstains were hard and crackling after being left to dry overnight. He didn't have a replacement.
"Where are you going?"
To accumulate 7, 500 credits within the next three days.
"And how do you plan to do that?"
Rook didn't answer.
It happened to be Yuya Fujisaki.
Exactly as Rook had left him, behind the counter of his nameless shop, with the unlit cigarette, and the feet elevated on a crate. Something that was like weapon firmware code was showing on his terminal, and too much text was scrolling by too rapidly to read.
He did not raise his head as Rook walked in.
Debt Collector is still on. Figured you'd be back."
"I need work."
"Everyone needs work." Yuya continued to look at the screen. "What kind?"
"Whatever pays."
That got his attention. The terminal stalled half way down. The gunmetal gaze that Yuya directs towards Rook changed to his face, then his coat, then his dark under-eye shadows.
"Rent's due," he said.
"Rent's due."
A pause. Yuya did not change his expression, but there was a change somewhere in his pose rather less indifferent, more thoughtful.
"I've got a job. Will be no cash, however, I will take twenty per cent. off your next patch. He tilted his head. And supposing you would like another patch.
"What's the job?"
Yuya shook his head involving the back of the shop. "Her."
The warhammer was leaned on the corner like an orphaned umbrella.
It was lovely, in a violent manner. Copper inlaid silver head, haft bound with dark leather that is smooth due to the years of grip. The type of weapon, which exceeded the price of the apartment of Rook.
It was also crying.
Not metaphorically. There were tears liquid, slowly sparkling dripping somewhere under the head of the hammer, and falling in clear ecclesiastical silver.
No she will not, said Yuya, leaning against the work-bench. "Hasn't stopped for three days. Her user is a middle level climber, rank of 400 something, who bought her at a liquidation auction 6 months ago. They equated, 85 bolt, hard fast. Then an offer came his way with a sponsored weapon and abandoned her in storage.
"He just... left her?"
Stopped the subscription and strolled. She has been so since the time of her birth. Yuya shrugged. "Jealous Warhammer. They bond hard, break harder. Separation anxiety is an recognized buggy flaw in the firmware.
Rook stared at the weeping weapon. These tears dripped slowly and patiently on.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Sit with her. An hour, maybe two. At times they simply require... presence. Yuya spoke with a well modulated voice. I would do it myself, only she despises me. Says I stink of dead contracts.
You do smell like dead contracts, Debt Collector remarked.
"Not helping."
Yuya swore himself away out of the workbench. "Chair's in the corner. Don't make an attempt to keep up with her she is not prepared to make a new connection. Just be there. Talk if she wants to talk. Don't if she doesn't."
He headed to the front of the shop already drawing something on his terminal.
"Hour starts now."
The chair was uncomfortable.
So Rook sat down, Debt Collector covering his knees, the sniveling warhammer three feet on his left side. The silence was filled by the ambient noise in the shop: the hum of the terminals, the noise of the traffic in the street, the flickering of the neon sign visible outside.
The hammer cried.
That is peculiar, I said to myself, Debt Collector.
"Yeah."
And this I never heard a weapon do. Not like this."
You have been locked up decades. The reason is that they probably missed some developments.
"...fair."
Rook looked at the hammer. Tears had made a little pool down on the floor beneath it.
"Hey," he said.
No response.
"I'm Rook. I'm, uh. Rank 842. I have a sword that insults me."
Very charming introduction, said Debt Collector.
"Shut up."
The tears of the hammer were somewhat diminished. Just slightly.
Rook tried again.
I do not know anything about warhambers. I mostly just stab things. But Yuya, said, you had to have somebody to sit with. I'm sitting." A pause. I am also unable to talk, that is better. I'm good at not talking."
Silence.
Then, so faintly:...you smell sad.
The voice was small. Female. Full of tears and once perhaps of hope.
You stink like one that has been left as well.
Rook did not know how to say to that.
Yes, Debt Collector said to himself. "He has."
The hour passed.
After this Rook did not speak a lot. Neither did the hammer. Her tears had changed to a drop every now and then, and as Yuya came back at the sixty minutes mark, the puddle on the floor no longer increased.
"She's calmer," he observed. "Good."
"I didn't do anything."
"You stayed." Yuya was on his knees, analyzing the runes on the hammer in a detached way. "That's usually enough."
He took a cloth out of his workbench and wiped the silver that was left on the hammer. The weapon didn't resist.
Twenty per cent off your next patch, he said. You wish to book now or keep it to be later?
Rook stood. His legs had gone to sleep, he was waiting till the pins and needles had dissolved.
"Later."
"Smart. You can never anticipate what you will need. Yuya smoothed himself and stowed the cloth. One word of advice, no fee: don't get attached. Weapons come, weapons go. The subscription model is made to crave more, better, newer. that is the way that they keep you paying.
He looked at that hammer, now lying dumb in its corner.
And that is the way they keep you to themselves.
Rook left the shop.
The leaderboard could be seen high above, tearing a hole in the gray sky. And thousands of names, and thousands of ranks, and thousands of people climbing to something they would never be able to achieve.
His name was still at 842.
You assisted her, Debt Collector said. "The hammer. You helped."
"I sat in a chair for an hour."
More than anybody else did.
Rook didn't answer.
He had walked to his apartment, over the butcher shops, over the flickering streetlights, over the unremitting white of the city that did not give a thought to his life and death.
Rent was due in three days.
He was still short 7,500 credits.
"What are you going to do?"
Rook stared at the leaderboard. When called by name he stood still, frozen in the ascending.
"Fight," he said. "What else is there?"
"...nothing," Debt Collector said. "There's nothing else."