Nanowrimo, all in one post

Untitled (TBD)

Chase

The city hummed above, pulsating and writhing on the seismic base isolators as Chase Gagnon walked the byways in silence. This was a common routine for Chase to either walk or jog through the services veins and arteries that kept the city above free of cables and most menial human labourers. At this time, approximately six o’clock in the evening, the paths were quiet. The paths were quiet to minimise disruption above. AIs long ago learnt to schedule workers to avoid bottlenecks and then later for the workers below to avoid the workers above for aesthetic and class reasons. It was a mostly silent experience broken only by the hums and whirs of the electricity, plumbing and whatever else was running through the network of conduits surrounding the paths. The paths in this section were barely two people wide, made to purpose in a complex web that long ago exceeded what a single human mind could comprehend.

The only other people Chase passed at this time were people like him, knowledge workers, executives and other corporates from above. Most of them were decked out in fitness gear with optimised running shoes trying to surpass personal bests or whatever else it was that fitness junkies did. That wasn’t what brought Chase here, he came for solitude. To be away from the masses, the judgement and the constant noise. Chase knew that ad networks were largely disabled in these service underway so as not to distract the workers from their heavily monitored tasks. Every second for them was accounted for by their minding devices and as the same corporations owned the ad networks as owned the cleaners, technicians, delivery drivers and many others who frequented these byways in other times there was no point for them to disadvantage their own margins with ceaseless distractions. So far they hadn’t picked up on above ground workers like Chase and the joggers stealthing uncommercialised through these passages. They would, they always did. Some evil marketeer would realise this untapped population who weren’t being told what to buy in due time but they hadn’t found them yet. For now, this was Chase’s solace, an escape route on the way home.

A jogger runs towards Chase. Slim, athletic in almost translucent sweat drenched white. Chase looked but not too closely to be noticed. She passes him bombarding his nose with an arousing aroma breaking his train of thought before fading down the path as Chase keeps walking. The scent lingers in the air of the narrow passage as Chase continues his relentless walk. Brisk, but not too brisk. Purposeful whilst still mostly aimless with only a generalised path. The ways are still tightly calibrated with few unsigned dead ends and paths sculpted to provide rapid progression and in some cases vehicular access. This place was designed and engineered to minimise the time workers were required to be here which is why they end up being faster than walking aboveground through the tree lined malls and boulevards designed for soothing appearances and casual consumption. And well placed ads inserted into ocular implants to encourage even more consumption. Chase preferred the pipes and this own thoughts on his commute to the subway interconnect or to his modest apartment. The subway was constant ads so Chase preferred the seclusion and usually walked an extra subway stop or two past the closest one. This time was nourishing and a pleasant escape. Time to be by himself and time to just be. Another jogger; middle aged, male and wholly unappealing but still a break in the gnawing thought that was eating at Chase.

The thought echoing through his consciousness is one of despair and anxiety. Chase had been unhappy at work for some time. Work was a chore. A well paid chore but a chore nonetheless. It was eating at him now and he wanted to escape it. To escape life in general and to be someone else entirely. He felt trapped by the rewards and by the position afforded to him by the work that he did. He was one of the privileged few who worked in the city and not one who worked for the city. His apartment was well furnished and comfortable and he could indulge in any vice he wanted, within moderation guidelines. Outwardly, life was good. He had want for nothing as most needs were provided for at a level of luxury outside the grasp of most. But still work was troubling, not especially challenging and less rewarding than it used to be. Work was a slog and it didn’t fulfil as much as it used to. Chase was also becoming more aware of the darker aspects of his work and it was beginning to weigh him down.

Chase Gagnon is an asset creator. He makes parts of stories too complex or unexpected forthe AIs. Sometimes personalities, sometimes places, sometimes exotic animals, sometimes objects real or imagined. Chase filled in parts of stories that required human creativity in the few parts the AIs couldn’t craft on their own. Often his work was even dictated by the AIs who would give briefs of things they didn’t understand or that they lacked or that were tested and found lacking. Either way he was part of a legion of human creatives that filled missing niches in stories across all media that were not currently served by machine learning models. There weren’t many left in media presently as the machines were more believable than human actors and their stories were usually more compelling. They could do things that most assumed could never be done by machines but that hubris had been smashed apart by a wave of content that was superior to everything that came before it. No one expected machines to write in ways that were so emotionally engaging that they made everything else seem bland by comparison. Creative industries were slowly consumed by the successors, the owners of the machines. There were still some talking heads and created celebrities, and there were still the equivalent versions of producers and directors but these were limit in power and scope. Mostly pawns just like Chase, there only to fulfil some particular niche and close a circle. Chase had met some of them at work a few times. The directors especially concerned him because they were usually around for their abilities to create depravity outside of what amoral machines could make. He was torn by his impact on the world and his lack of impact, both responsible and ineffective.

A dog and a young woman jog past. Animals are a rare indulgence now with only the wealthiest 10% really capable of affording a pet with the restrictions attached to them. Chase wondered where that circumstantial limit came from as it wasn’t present in all parts of the federation. Basic recepients were usually blocked due to the excess resources consumed. So this was definitely someone who wasn’t struggling and an especially good looking dog too. They slowed a touch to pass through the restrictive passageway. The dog looked up longingly at Chase who smiled back. Such a simple act of kindness broke the tension. Chase’s mode improved slightly and he realised that an elevator to the subway station is 30 seconds away. He considered walking to the next stop and then reconsidered recognising that it’s time to reenter the world.

An ad for a drama unfurled over the window cleansing the drab basic apartment blocks visible in the distance. An interactive, immersive virtual drama that would make you cry and fall in love if the advert was to be trusted. Suddenly, a phone call icon overlayed on the ad, “The Regular Reg is calling you”.

“What is it, Reg?” Chase answered.

“Fucking what is it? Is that any way to talk to me, you cunt? How the fuck you going, son?” Reg’s familiar voice chimed back. Jovial in a way that betrayed his birthplace on the island of Australia somewhere.

“Sorry man, just having a day. What’s up?”

“Work got you down hey? Fucking cunts man, all of em. I feel ya hey, it’s been a week.”

“It’s only Wednesday, Reg.” Chase knew where Reg was going, he often called to try and drag him out onto the town. Chase was in a dark place still and he sensed, even through his autism, that he was probably leaking something out that Reg would pick up over the video feed. Reginald Li could read people like him like a book. If there was one thing He’d learned through their time together since high school it was that Reg was the people person in every way he wasn’t. They had unique and complementary skill sets that they’d long used to cause trouble.

“You probably know where my fucking mind’s at, don’t you big C? Let’s get some drugs and have a night.” Reg was very readable sometimes.

“You know I’ve gotta work tomorrow, it’s a fucking Wednesday.”

“Do you have anything due, cunt? Are you needed to save the world tomorrow at 9? Fuck man, throw a sickie and let the cunts suffer in their jocks.”

“You’ve been here for at least 10 years and you still talk like you’re king of Oz. It’s definitely been a shit day and you’re going to keep twisting my arm until I give into your bullshit so let’s make it happen– “

“Look, just tell the bastard you’re shitting your guts out so hard you cracked the bowl and you can’t come in.” Chase started filling in the form on a parallel app on the left side of his vision before Reg was through the world bastard which he chewed out with a’s so large they seemed to get stuck in transit.

“Alright already, I’m in. It’s been a while and it has definitely been a week. Where to and what should we get?”

“Fucking new brewery in Midtown, sending the deets, until it gets proper dark then on to a new rave revival club. Proper fucking old school. I got us some MDMA, K and coke already. We’ll see what the crowd’s up to and go from there. My shout, you cunt. I already called in sick too.” Reg was a mid level data clerk in energy somewhere near Midtown. Almost every drug had been legalised, taxed and allowed out into the populous by the middle of the century. Once the corporates took most of the functional side of government there wasn’t much left except law enforcement and that was seen as increasingly encroaching on profits. Law enforcement too was fully privatised around the same time and that was the final nail after that drugs, sex, and almost every other vice was opened up to the market. They didn’t see the value in paying their margins to imprison customers they could milk instead. The only real exception is Basics. Basics were restricted to synthpot, opiates and a handful of other cheap drugs that generally just made you slow and stupid. Stimulants were restricted by price and availability, they were usually only vended in areas Basics couldn’t afford to get to on purpose. This kept the lower classes mostly happy and the higher classes mostly happy. Addiction or missing too much work could send you back to Basic which meant even most serious addicts kept their hands on their jobs because otherwise you’d be going cold turkey with middling healthcare and zero chances of scoring another hit. Downfall was usually a one way path and no one wanted Basic Income if they knew any better.

“Alright, changing subway now. See you in half an hour.” Chase alighted and crossed the platform to the waiting train. It could have been a coincidence but he, also knew that these 30ish person subway cars were also pretty smart and often listening to everything.

“First rounds on me, see you there.” Reg hung up. Another ad for a new song started.

Beeanca

Beeanca Jay Eire III was outside her comfor zone, the place she felt happiest. She was eternally rebelling against the constraints of the life she was destined for. She didn’t want that, she wanted this. She was the lifelong rebel without a cause and at this point those who originally cared about her rebellion had given up and practically forgotten about her. Beeanca was attached to the idea of rebelling now, even more than the rebellion itself. Beeanca was in the projects with the Basics. Hanging out with untouchables was her rebellion. She longed to be accepted by people she’d spent her entire life before adulthood being told to fear. She was obsessed with their culture, their customs and their habits. She was even obsessed with the fear, the fact that many of those she was trying to endear herself to would probably kill her for her mods or a ransom, if they knew she had mods or was worth ransoming. She was 28 now and far beyond the age of teenage rebellion. She loved being the impostor, the outsider, the black sheep. She wanted to be seen as one of them, to be accepted by people her parents considered unacceptable. And that’s why she was here and now in the slums pouring a large quantity of drugs into a drug den populated by a bunch of addicts. She’d started an opium and meth party, and even laced the methamphetamine with aphrodisiacs just to make it that much more fun.

Beeanca loved being the centre of the party, so much so that she’d secretly pay to start the party herself. She claimed to have found the bag of drugs on the subway and her companions seemed to believe her explanation. With it she was intending to start a good sized debauch. She knew this crew and had done this before. She’d convinced them she was from a building a couple of blocks away, even went as far as purchasing an apartment and furnishing it just to complete the myth. She’d even used it for a hookup once but she tried to minimise those because her girlfriend didn’t approve. She was away on work for a few days which is what brought Beeanca here, she had at least 5 days before anyone would notice her gone so she wanted to start some shit and she loved when it got out of control. These events were not without risk, no one else had her metabolism and health monitors or the internal systems to handle an overdose or an accidental poisoning. People had died before. People had been killed too. People were people, barely evolved beyond being apes in the trees.

“I can’t believe you got so much dope, Bee.” Jayce, a skinny man who was one of the leaders of the group who they all looked up to. Until Beeanca came in and stole that crown.

“I know, right. Just sitting there. I couldn’t believe my luck either.” Beeanca lied as easily as most people eat and shit. It just came naturally to her to be someone she wasn’t.

“You’re not, like, worried they might come for you? Someone owned this lot and it would have cost like 4 full months of Basic. Or more. It’s a haul.”

“Yeah, well I’ve still got access to the main districts. I work as a cleaner there sometimes, I’m not, like 100% Basic.” She had to be careful around this topic. These people rarely tried to do much to exceed their station. Even cleaning toilets or blowing dicks for cash put you a level above everyone else. Basic Income seemed to limit some people’s ambition to buying a new entertainment system once a year. And there wasn’t that much manual work left. Even prostitution had it’s limits, who would want some skank when anyone could fuck a hundred models in VR with perfect feedback. No one really expected AI to replace sex work but here we are, the only one’s still buying are true deviants, predators or niche enthusiasts. Same with cleaning, there was still a market for cleaners but it was entirely people who either hated machines or who were on some kind of power trip where they wanted people to do menial tasks for them. Beeanca’s parents were like that, they loved having a large staff of poors dressed nicely doing all the things that a robot could do in half the time but they wanted that traditional control. They wanted to see the power that money gave them standing before them. They hired people as objects, personification of status. They also loved to treat the servants like shit. They’d beat them or humiliate them and then just have them paid off or fired. They’d be very certain to do that to any worker that Beeanca connected with too, usually in front of her. Her mother had beaten one poor man with a toy for almost ten minutes once because he’d smiled back at Beeanca. They were the real fucking savages.

“I’ll be fine, I’m fast and good at not getting caught.” Beeanca tried to reassure him. She needed to get that paranoia out of him quick or all that meth would fuck him up later. She went over and sat in his lap. “I just want you guys to be happy. I thought about selling it but I can’t forget my friends.”

“‘Course. Thanks, Bee, you always bring it. Love ya work.” The addict in him was talking now, he was almost salivating at the thought of ingesting the substances. She knew that look, he wasn’t interested in her and not because she wasn’t attractive or that he wasn’t attracted to her. She was gorgeous and she knew it. She was tall, fit, blonde with blue eyes and large shapely breasts. The trad trophy wife from a line of trad trophy wives. Her mods were all hidden, especially her combat mods which were rarely even detected by scanners. She had a few piercings and tattoos from her earlier rebellious period before this current rebellious period. She was a keeper but Jayce was also an addict. Spoons, needles and glass wands were out now. She’d only been here for 15 minutes which was enough time for a few of them to fetch a plethora of implements. One girl hadn’t even waited for the providence to be discussed. As soon as it was down on the table and Bee had said it was good to take she’d snorted some heroin and was out cold.

“Let’s fucking party!” Beeanca shouted trying to stay with the mood. She was also ready to get high. If she wanted to her mods could sober her up in under a minute and take her straight back to zero. She’d only ever used that once when she needed to get the fuck out of a very dangerous situation when a rival gang had stormed their den, another group and another time. She’d repeated this pattern numerous times now. The faces would change but the outcome was almost always the same. It wasn’t even voyeuristic, she loved the drugs too. She loved the attention and she loved people depending on her even if she was just leading them into a hellish comedown when she eventually burnt her bridges and left them with addictions they couldn’t afford to sustain without her. Basic drug control was purely monetary, as long as you could pay you could take whatever the fuck you wanted and no one cared. You needed to pay for it and all drugs were taxed heavily, usually by how much you fucked yourself from working, the worse it made your work, the more it was taxed. Otherwise, just production costs. Theft wasn’t an issue because everything was recorded, there is no second hand market because most devices were tied to an individual and never worked for anyone else. Everything had fees and transactions anyway so most things were just dumb terminals. More expensive robots and transportation were owned by the corporations who also owned the police and would fuck you up if you cost them any money at all. Crime was generally limited to the corporations themselves, anyone smaller would stand on their toes and get crushed, they didn’t want to share the top or let anyone else get up there. Minor crime was almost non-existent because certain crimes that damaged workers, like assault, were punished severely with forced labour. There was no black market, that sort of freedom had long been repressed. You could only buy from them and if you didn’t play by their rules you couldn’t even do that. So many bleak thoughts, Beeanca accepted a loaded needle. She tightened the noose around her arm and injected it straight in the vein. Jayce was right behind her also getting loaded. He’d wrapped his arms around her as he slumped into the high. There was nothing else really like an opiate high.

A hand was stroking her arm. The woman beside her, Taillen, was pretty in a bland way. She had an interesting face but her tenacity of meth had left her with an unhealthy body. The additives had worked though, they always made for a more fun party. Beeanca was back with it enough to take a hit on the glass cannon and then to start kissing young Taillen. She didn’t taste all that great, she needed some water and not another vape. Maybe less kissing and use her eagerness for something more enjoyable. Beeanca lifted her skirt and signalled for Taillen to go down on her. Taillen thought briefly about engaging in that while surrounded in a big drug circle but Bee’s influence overrode any concerns she may have had at such a public display of affection. There were a couple of younger men in the circle who were aroused enough to start masturbating but most of them were still out of it on the heroin.

They’d all gone up and down several times over the next two days. Clothes barely lasted the first day and they were fast asleep now in a collective heroin sleep, naked in a large cuddle puddle. It didn’t smell great in here before they started and now it smelt downright questionable. Beeanca was starting to stir, she’d had her fill now even brining out other drugs so she could get the boys to stay focused and conscious long enough to get her to orgasm. The bag was only half depleted but she was beginning to tire of it and wanted a shower, a good coffee and some proper food. There was a limp penis still in her rectum which made her giggle a little. She was completely surrounded so there was no way to get up without waking almost everyone. Her arm was slightly cramped due to the hard floor and sleeping in a strange position. She spotted a tiny bag of heroin on the breast of someone just inside of her reach. After retrieving the bag she ate the contents and drifted back into a pleasant daze.

Someone was awake and going nuts. The worse effects of meth. They were punching walls and screaming, everyone in the puddle started to rise. Beeanca didn’t recognise the naked young man who was losing it but it didn’t really matter, it was the escape she needed. Everyone was up so she made a quick break to the toilet and grabbed her top and someone else’s pants. Her shoes were in the toilet. The screaming had been joined by others and it sounded like a fight had started. Yeah, it was time to go. She checked were everyone was looking with her optics that let her see through these cheap walls to the warm bodies beyond. Despite the small size of the the room she could make out a path through without walking in front of anyone while they dealt with the chaos or just stared on as it unfolded. She made her break and was out the door. Still pleasantly high and regretting not stealing any sunglasses before she left (she’d just stop at the convenience store at the base of the tower). It was time to go, she’d had her fun, got her rocks off and got wasted. Now it was time to head out from the lowest of the low to just the low, Basics to the simply waged. It all upset her parents and it still brought a smile to Bee’s face to bring shame to her family.

Reg

A slightly portly man sat at a table slightly off from a barrel and the bar. He had one full pint and one mostly empty pint. A strained and slightly nervous expression marked his face for one who didn’t completely want to be where he was but was nevertheless committed. He was attired in a mesh top and long cargo pants that looked almost antique except for the lighting. The mesh top was not completely flattering but it revealed the body of a lapsed gym junkie with some asymmetrical scars that could be body mods, cosmetic or actual scars. Reg’s face lit up.

“Fuck me, they will literally let anyone in here these days. What happened to standards and decency!”

“I’m not the one dressed like a gigolo. Reg”

“Nah, you look like a trad Mormon who got lost and forgot he wasn’t allowed to drink. How ya been, cunt?” Chase Gagnon was wearing a quite orthodox tailored black suit, white shirt and thin black tie. He really did look like he was cosplaying a salaryman or an undertaker. The only thing off was the cowboy boots which probably were antique, Chase had a weird style.

“I’ve been up and down, not enjoying work at the moment and I just want to forget it for a night.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. Tell me, are you going to be able to go out in that or is the museum going to want a security deposit.”

“I forgot you were a fucking comedian. Why don’t you tell me which joke made your audience cry, funny man?” Chase delivered his rebuttal with barely any emotion or eye contact but that was nothing new. A few beers in and that quirk would be almost gone. His friend would open up as his inhibitions departed and his friend’s traits became less awkward.

“You know how it is, you try your best but they always want more. I also crave a bit of fucking socialisation and probably a bit of actual fucking in this boring hospital of a city.” Reg kept his real reasons close to his chest but gave away just enough to keep his friend in the space where he could feign empathy. He truly did love Chase’s friendship even if he was about as soft as a block of wood sometimes. Temptation crept in to actually explain his reasons but he kept the thought buried and said, “Have a beer, ya cunt, it’s good to see ya”

“Likewise. You think they’d realise I don’t need an ad for a beer while I’m holding a beer. That sale already bolted.”

“What I’d do for a humble beer ad. These cunts think I need some lingerie. And, true, I do but not to buy.” Chase laughed at Reg’s joke. A genuine laugh that had Reg smiling too. They really enjoyed each other’s company.

“It’s your turn to get the next round, Chase.” Reg teased. The night had begun.

Reg racked two long lines of synthetic cocaine on the glass table slicing them with a razor in the manner of someone taking the roll very seriously or trying to emulate movies of the past. He had an Australian plastic fifty dollar note rolled up that was probably worth more than his ocular implants. One eye was closed to hide an ad that was trying to cloud his vision. A message about only using drugs responsibly that was almost laughable.

“One line and we’ll head in, hey? Unless you want to drop something else first?” Reg inquired. They’d had a couple of reasonable beers in styles of the early 21st century. It was easing in to being quite a retro night of revisionist memories of an age that never existed envisioned by people who were never there. It was a harsh time to want to emulate; wars, famine, poverty, disease. All those pre-Basic deaths that could have been prevented, all those pointless nations and divisions.

“I want to hear the music first to make sure this place isn’t a complete dud. You’ve taken us to some real shit holes before so I don’t wanna go too deep until I’m sure I’m not swimming in faeces.”

“Wow, what a vote of confidence. Tell you what you have the next line of this and you'll be so confident they'll use your face to inspire sales droids." Reg felt the burn and a coppery taste of blood deep in his throat. The coke was going to his brain but he knew this was only the beginning. All thoughts of pacing anything were slipping away as he past the rolled up currency across the table and spun it around for his friend.

“Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Retro nights, vintage as fuck. I’m sure some people have nostalgia for the time when climate change was just getting hard enough to fuck us without lube.” Chase could almost be his people once he got a few drinks deep. Reg wondered if it was because of his influence or whether his friend was a born sick cunt like he was. Chase crocked his head down brought the $50 to his nose and sucked down the synthcoke with a little cough before continuing, “Just imagine that, fires, floods, blizzards, the whole world fucking up before the domes and controls. I’d be fucked losing your house.”

“It still is fucked, my friend. You need to get down with some Basics now and then and set foot outside this crystal palace. The sky is still red when they don’t colour it in for these rich cunts like us.”

“Bleak man, remember we are getting high and having a good time not trying to fucking cry into our glasses.”

“I know, and I’m serious. You should try some Basics sometime.”

“Can you think without your dick?”

“Hey, I’m a simple man with simple needs. Who’s paying the bills doesn’t determine who I should screw or not. Equal opportunities man, I am.” Reg lied. He hadn’t been beyond the walls in a while. And while he had met a couple of amazing women, men and even a trio of unicorns it was mostly depressing seeing how Basics lived and just served to remind him how hard it was to try to bring a Basic to the other side of the checkpoints for any extended time. It made forming long lasting relationships challenging at best.

“Are we ready to hit this club in a purely consensual way, Chase?” Reg joked as he stood up?

“Let’s hit ‘tha pissa’ and leave some of this beer here and then head over, Reg. I’ve got a good feeling about this night and I don’t want to waste my buzz here crying about climate and Basics.” Chase was away and Reg too had a good feeling that was probably mostly synthcoke.

Chase

Next Chase knew he was in front of a mirror looking intently at his own face. The drugs were hitting hard, and this toilet was not the place to stay on them. He washed his face, smelt his shirt; slightly stale and smelt somewhat of work and strangely of the jogger from earlier. He finished his beer and took the empty glass to the bar before heading outside to his friend who’d somehow pissed 3 beers into the urinal in half the time. Reg looked out of place but then so did he, while it was a nightlife district they looked like they’d taken a time machine from another age. The lights and noise were oppressive. Reg was in a monologue about something or some exploit but it was lost on Chase presently as he was a head taller and mesmerised by the flashing scenery and gaggle of people brushing past them in every direction at once.

“It’s just through this alley. They have a costume hire if you want too, might save you from getting something unseemly on those precious boots of yours.” Reg interjected, breaking the reverie.

“These boots are mostly invincible and they’ve been rebuilt a couple of times so they’re less original than they look. I also love dancing in them.”

“You’re a strange unit, but a good egg.”

“Are you flirting with me, Reg? I can’t quite tell with all the funny turns of phrase you’re using.”

“Fuck me, get in there you loon.” The club had the standard interlocking gates that scanned your ID chip and deducted fees allowing for quiet, discrete refusal through a hidden side door for those who did not match to the accepted filters. Once inside the scene was one of concrete and graffiti. Screens provided a fake sky that looked real and gave the illusion of being underneath a large road designed for automobiles. There were swings and what looked like makeshift camps around open fires but were likely very comfortable synthetics and not rocks or bits of loose steel. The fires were probably fake too, these places were usually sticklers for safety and actually dangerous places charged a more serious premium. Drinks were being vended from boxes that looked like rubbish by human staff who fit the period.

“Sir, would you like to change in our costume rental store?” A small voice whispered in Chase’s ear.

“Yes, of course, lead the way.” Chase replied.

“I’ll see you on the rocks overlooking the pit over there, my man.” Reg said, adding “Make sure he picks something that doesn’t let him look like a corpos pick, love.” To the small man who was leading Chase to the costume area. He scrolled through the club rules and event details on his ocular implants with the hidden chordal controls in his left arm. Clothing optional, period dress required, nothing later than 2000, drug usage encouraged, violence limited to crowd dynamics, music from time frame. That’s quite a party plan and far less restrictive than some of the reenactment events. Chase selected a black kilt and kept his boots on, leaving the rest of his clothes to be pressed into vacuum sealed bags to probably come back cleaner than then went in. It occurred to him that he would fit in much better with the crowd now as he exited the costume parlour and entered the club proper. There were all sorts here but most were dressed for what they thought was attire for a rave at the end of the 20th century. It was a mishmash of black, pastels and neon; most of it very revealing and some took the clothing optional to just go in jewellery and glowsticks. Chase approached a small woman in a white sailors uniform next to one of the ice boxes and silently ordered a large beer in a period correct aluminium can. When she smiled handing him the drink her cheeks shone pink light. Chase headed for Reg’s meeting spot on the periphery of the dancing pit.

The pit itself was around 50 meters across and sunken below the surrounding badlands underpass squeezed between two thick pylons. The whole set was very intricate and Chase wondered if it had been used for something else before this. The concrete felt real, possibly from a real road at some point. The cactus he found accidentally was quite real and he was still trying to pull a thorn out of his hand with his teeth when he caught sight of Reg who was talking to two young men, one nude except for a rainbow collar and the other shoeless, in denim jeans and a t-shirt with a logo that might have been a band.

“This is the cunt I was telling you about, fucking airs of refinement this one but now he almost looks the part. Now piss off and have fun, gotta talk to my man about some dogs.” Reg boomed with a stare at the one in jeans who almost grimaced out a smile before turning into the pit with his bare companion. Reg had a look about him somewhere between hysteria and seething anger that made Chase think he might have had more than just one line. “Good to see you got dressed for the party, it looks like a mad doo indeed.”

“Tell me about it, this isn’t another orgy just badly advertised though, is it? I’ve already seen a lot of tits and cocks.” Chase looked around and took in the music. It was hard, fast and bassy. A woman in the pit was flashing different colours in sync with the hi-hat. Stage lights emitted waves from the DJ booth that seemed to be built onto the back of a combustion truck that had seen better days. Despite the noise that was resonating through their bodies they could hear each other closely through tight beam comms to their mods. “What are you planning tonight, Reg? You’ve got the look of a man with a purpose.”

“No purpose, my brother. No purpose at all. Just getting high as fuck out of my gourd and enjoying a little fucking show. Probably an actually fucking show if these miscreants keep grinding in there like that too.” Reg said as they both stared at the heaving mass of bodies before them.” Let’s do the K and MD. Have a fucking time, son.”

“Is work that bad at the moment? Reg, do you need to talk?”

“It’s in the sunlit times now, goneski. Forgotten until fucking Friday or maybe even Monday.” Reg spoke softly through the drum solo, facing him now. “Let’s just let it sleep for now while we wake up and live for a night. Are you with me?”

“Yeah, why not. This looks fun. Let’s have some fun.”

“Tell me something, did you go full Scot and free ball it under there?”

“A gentleman never tells. It’s been a while with all the work lately so I’m feeling a little frisky.” Chase slyly stated, silently this time through the chordal keyboard alone. It still vocalises the message in the machine simulacra of his his voice. Their jobs required a certain level of modifications to interact with the systems. Most of the compute Chase used was networked not stuffed in random visceral recesses at least. He was equipped with a number of sensing and transmission systems that could communicate not just sound and vision but also sensations for calibrating haptics or transceiving that certain flavour to eager consumers. Chase’s body could be used to perfectly record events with an externally undetectable brain scan from a sensor buried deep inside his brain. This tech was often banned for most people because it could be used for blackmail and espionage but it was essential for media. So some like Chase have it but it’s not something usually available and it is still tightly controlled. They’d probably take it all back if he ever left too, the bastards. They’d definitely pick those valuable circuits off his body before they threw him into the Basic slums.

Reg handed him a small bag of tiny red crystals and a blue pill. The crystals were very pure MDMA and the blue pill was sensed as unknown but was probably rebranded Ketamine. A smile and a wink passed Reg’s face which was close to his right now.

“Let’s fucking do this. Block your nets for a sec,” Reg whispered in his ear, analog, “Enjoy the good stuff, my brother. These aren’t your usual dispensary shit, this is the real stuff. Might be a bit stronger than usual as my supplier is a true legend. Deadset, the man still manually cooks sometimes. Fucking old school chemistry! What a fucking unit! On Three, cunt. Three!” And with that they dropped the mixture from their hands into their mouths with Chase chasing it down with a swig of the warming beer and Reg with a hipflask of what was probably some awful alcoholic spirits he’d often drink. The beat changed with a new song, even deeper bass EDM from a band called Santa Hates You according to the message on the edge of his vision. Chase disabled his net and turned off the sensors with a thought, he didn’t want more interruptions now. Just music and dance. “Finish that swill and let’s fucking get in there, brother.”

Chase was not used to this many people. Subways were usually quiet due to over optimisation and gatekeeping. This was a seething mass of warm flesh and fabric. He was in sensory overload but the anxiety was quelled by the alcohol and cocaine which made the terrifying tolerable. An unimaginably tall man pressed into him, his face briefly flat on the chest of the hulk before they both turned in opposite directions. Reg had vanished, he was shorter than Chase so he’d probably find Chase again before Chase would find him but they both knew the score. They were just the lubricant to get each other into this mess and the aid to get them back out if needed but they’d do their own thing. Chase found these sorts of crowds meditative, you became a part of something else for a time instead of a socially awkward nerd who never really knew where he fitted in. He could be present in the moment, on a beat, no one and everyone at the same time. He remembered how much he loved it as an elbow hit his ribs a little too hard for the song knocking him deeper in, towards the DJ.

Chase’s senses were his own, unmodified, baseline perceptions. He was dancing, letting himself be carried by the song and the drugs in his blood now screaming towards his brain. Reg had not deceived him, these were exceptional narcotics. The MDMA was overtaking the cocaine now and he was overwhelmed by an urge to be closer to people in an almost sexual way. He longed to be touched and to touch but the thought of longing had no sooner been birthed into existence before a woman in purple hair gripped him tightly in a hug. Chase rested his head on her shoulder and could hear her heartbeat somehow over the drumbeat and he could feel her nipples pressing into his chest. She pulled back her head far enough to see into his eyes. Her pupils were literally spinning, either through the drugs or mods. She was beautiful. Her tongue outstretched to lick his top lip before plunging into his mouth. She tasted amazing, citrusy with a hint of juniper. Hands everywhere, hers, his, someone else’s. She’d found the front of his kilt and grabbed his penis all while their tongues fought for domination within their opponents home ground. And then, she was gone. His hand parted from hers as she rolled back into the crowd. Emotions so heightened he felt like crying or pissing himself. Mostly pissing himself. Fuck, he thought, fucking beer. He couldn’t find his purple headed brief lover so Chase pushed outwards towards the sign for latrines near the concrete pylon. A strange man rapidly faced him with a head constantly rolling before fully rolling and flipping away. Hands groped and pushed as the song became darker again and the crowd flipped from euphoric or foreboding. The edge of the pit was near but still so far. Two arms interlocked his at the elbow and suddenly he was spinning propelled by two portly figures in plastic wings with smooth bodies pulling him round and round. Chase fought the urge to engage his mods to correct his balance and opted instead to feign a fall and then roll towards the edge.

The gravel was not as forgiving as he had hoped but he was uninjured. The relief of cresting the edge of the pit overcame the bruise that would rise tomorrow on his shoulder. He could see the sign now and followed it around to a rather conventional and out of place wooden door. Behind the door was an array of toilet cubicles to form a rather regular white tiled and black walled unisex bathroom. The spotless walls caused Chase’s nets to engage briefly as his brain questioned hard enough to start a search for reason which brought up an overlay, “Graffiti prohibited, toilets monitored.” Disengaging the net and returning to focusing on holding his penis and not pissing on himself as he stumbled slightly on uniformly flat ground. Chase thought again of the purple headed green eyed assailant and felt it deep in his thighs. There was a slight hallucinogen somewhere in his substance cocktail. He briefly activated a mod again to find that it was 25mg of C20H25N30, Lysergic acid diethylamide, mixed with the ketamine. Extra special special K, great fucking joke, Reg. Chase wasn’t too upset, it wasn’t all encompassing and he’d used LSD a lot in the past for both work and pleasure. His friend was usually more open about that kind of trickery though. The rest of the mix checked out as described, synthcoke, near pure MDMA and alcohol. Chase disabled the nets, washed his hands and left the pristine bathroom for the fake wasteland debauchery.

He felt like another drink, alcohol and water. So he found another staffer manning a fake esky that lead into some subterranean bar and ordered a straight gin, water and a pack of sugared mint gum. His tongue felt like it had been enlarged to the size of the connecting nerves. His whole body felt wrong proportioned. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut to banish the thought and downed the gin in one handing the Pan shaped staffer the empty shot glass. Definitely an expensive venue, actual glassware. The pit beckoned, rainbow girl was still resonating to some late 90s trance. She was a model to aspire to, her happiness resonated off her. Chase barely realised what he was doing until he bumped into her. She shone blindingly bright forcing him to close his eyes and grip the cool water bottle tightly as he turned away and she was gone. Ahead now was a perfectly smooth butt in assless chaps gyrating to the beat. The owner of the masterpiece turned to reveal a thin moustache, radiant blue eyes and a sly grin. He brushed a kiss over Chase’s cheek and whispered something inaudible before Chase rolled again deeper into the fray. Chase was feeling his own inhibitions drop now, he was becoming one with the crowd and the beat. He loved this feeling, trapped in a moment until he felt something tied around his arm. Someone’s lost scarf chaffing and bringing a hostility upon him breaking the locus of positivity that briefly flowed into him. Dispatched he proceeded under someone’s naked frame surfing hands above lending a hand to send them on their path in the sky of created stars and a singular unreadable tag on the underside of the highway (if it was even there).

Another grope pulled Chase around and he found himself dancing with a genderless person. They’d taken the step that only some would take and removed all gender identity from their being, no nipples or visible genitalia at all. They were nude bar the copious beads adorning their body, with skin smooth like a manikin but stunningly beautiful with a doubtlessly modified face that resembled no other in shape, colour or tone. They were a truly unique individual with an impeccable sense of rhythm. Their dance propelled the middling song to an undeserved reverence. To watch them was to see the song played over a body as the beat rippled into existence. Their dance was art. They noticed Chase’s unbending stare even through his poor attempts at replicating their dance. Their eyes met Chase’s stare causing Chase to flinch and look away, trying to hide his awe. But he failed utterly as their hand gripped Chase’s chin firmly and forcefully but without hostility. Tilting Chase’s head to meet their stare head on in a rapturous collision of emotions. Their violet eyes penetrated deep into Chase’s green, splitting his being and seeing him painfully. Chase tried to pull away again but their hand was still on his chin and pulled his face even closer so their noses were almost touching. Their body never once missed a beat, smile growing as Chase shrunk. Their eyes were level and their dance had now stopped and the two stood motionless lay facing each other bound by eyes and a firm hand on a chin. Lips locked briefly and their tongue rolled over Chase’s lips as they parted. Their skin was so soft, firm and different in a way that writers of old would compose epics to describe the sensations flowing through Chase from just four fingers and a thumb.

“Boo!” They said, as they pushed Chase backwards in a howl of laughter. And then they were gone. Replacing them were at least nine other bodies on every side. Chase hadn’t realised that they’d cleared so much space with their enrapturing dance that he was now packed densely a few rows back from the DJ. Feet stumbled over his own. Hands roamed. Faces pushed into arms, chests, backs. Someone had licked the back of his arm. The beat pulsed as if suddenly harder here, near the locus. Another tongue probed his mouth but the embrace, while pleasing, was not mind blowing. More hands. Chase’s senses were enhanced, not dulled and the feelings and emotions were hard to contain. He dripped with fear, emotion and sweat, his own and others. The kilt felt both like too much clothing and not enough, it was a paradox which pulled his attention away from the mesh of bodies around him. Another hand. Chase was unsure where to keep his own hands and the thought was bringing him out of the aura. If they were down he’d be touching everything, possibly the wrong person in the wrong way. If they were up then he felt he wasn’t perfectly keeping the beat. He was suddenly self-conscious while surrounded by mostly naked people and unable to focus on anything because it would bend and morph the moment he tried. The music relaxed him. Another hand caressed. This one was different, far softer, safer and gentler than the others. It wasn’t needy or judgemental as it stroked across his lapsed abs. The hand found the edge of the kilt and sunk a finger into it. Chase was brought out of his focus on self and was suddenly trying to find the owner of the hand.

He couldn’t see anything. That wasn’t true, his eyes were working fine. There was a trio of female friends directly ahead of him who seemed to be engrossed in each other. But when he looked down again, in search of the owner of the hand, there was nothing. The hand retracted. Chase turned, it’s absence was painful. He felt like the world was collapsing down around him and he even uttered a faint, pained, “Please” to no one. The hand returned to his upper thigh on the opposite side, just below the hem of the kilt. Again he looked down and again, nothing, no one. Not really, nothing, there were people everywhere. Other hands and body parts pressed against him swaying in the melody. The hand was still there though. Now cognition was returning, he was hacked. Someone was definitely there but their mods were blurring them out. He checked his own mods, they said they were still disabled. This was serious, they had very rare and expensive wares. Chase reached out with his own hand into the void. First he felt an almost electric pain causing him to quickly jerk back.

“Sorry” Chase said, again to a void on the right of his understanding. He reached out a second time, the hand having departed a few seconds ago, and found a bare breast and quickly retracted. His eyes expanded in surprise and he was ready to apologise to the owner but he still couldn’t perceive or look at the void beside him. He turned and this time reached out gently with both hands finding the edges of what might be arms. His fingers slid down the skin slowly and carefully. Yes, elbows, definitely arms. Soft arms occasionally juxtaposed with ridges under the soft skin. Serious hardware. And then hands, soft hands that were warm but cold near the knuckles. The hands returned his grip. Bodies moved around the void as he looked down to see his own hand fadin before him while gripping the slightly smaller hands of the void figure before him. Confusion ate at him unable to truly comprehend what was happening and whether the formless shape meant him harm or worse. The chemicals in his bloodstream answered for his brain and he bent forward and kissed the bridge of the void’s nose. He could smell her now, even in analog mode his mods were enough to overcome whatever spell she’d cast to hide herself. She smelled amazing, sweet and lightly salty. She let out a laugh which lapsed what may have been a face into his vision before letting go and being replaced with a wreck of a man who was deep in a vision of a place that was not here. The man thrashed, hitting Chase in the side of the jaw.

“Aww, sorry dude, I didn’t see you there. Here, “ as he proceeded to hug Chase in a warm embrace. Chase stood dumbfounded and devastated. He felt like he’d lived and died a thousand lives. Curly hair nearby was triggering another hallucination. He didn’t want that now, he wanted her. There was no hiding his emotions as he turned to leave or at least get something else to take away the pain of loss. Chase started to head for the edge where he bought the gin. The water was gone and the gum had long lost its taste but he kept chewing it so his tongue could still. Someone even stole one of the pieces of gum from his mouth earlier. The empty plastic bottle felt like a metaphor for his heart which in a moment had been built up and then torn apart. Dejected he made for the vender faster.

Two fingers found their way into the waist of the kilt. He batted them away and then realisation and memory flowed over Chase. He looked behind himself and there was nothing. He reached out in a wide embrace and still nothing. No void, just a void. Then suddenly the fingers re-embedded themselves in the waistline and a giggle seeped out behind him. The fingers pulled him in and swung around as he tried to turn. A chin appeared on his shoulder and two nipples on his back.

“I’m Sami, what do I call you?”

A feeling so intense he almost came passed over Chase. He thought he did at least a little precum. His body was almost shaking in the heat as he felt the smile through her chin on his shoulder. The wave of emotion was unbearable and so unexpected he tried to capture it with his memory mod.

“No, you shan’t do that again. I’ll give you another chance to give me your name but don’t try that on me again or else.” Her voice soothed him almost into a semblance of control. He was enamored; her touch, her smell, her voice, fuck, her body. She was beyond all comprehension. He had to try or he’d lose her. He can’t fuck this up. How had she detected his mods?

” Ch-ch-chase.” he stammered, barely in control of himself. Yep, definitely precum. The fingers had looped into the belt holds.

“No, we played that before, silly. And I caught you fair and square. Plus, it wouldn’t be sporting for me to run because you’d never find me unless I wanted to be found.”

“N-n-n-n-no, Chase, that’s me. Chase Gagnon. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oooo, you found your tongue. There’s hope for you yet.” the void teased back and him as she swung him around by his pants. She was much stronger than he expected, possibly even stronger than him. He didn’t know where she was again and every time he’d get close he’d feel a slight prang of pain behind his eyes. She still held him by the belt holds but she alternated which one she was holding as she ran around him and he spun. Suddenly, she grabbed his hips instead and he came to an abrupt halt facing a blur. The hands gripped his buttocks hard and pulled him into her. Her chest pressed into him and still he couldn’t see a thing and looking was pain so he closed his eyes and relaxed his body. The moment his eyes closed he felt her tongue on the nape of his neck as it rapidly ascended his throat and found his mouth. The feeling was all encompassing bliss that eclipsed his entire world. Her kiss was deep and commanding, he was still unsure what to do so was standing there motionless for thirty seconds before regaining a tiny bit of composure and realising that this was real. Chase brought his hands up and explored her body while she continued to lead him into the kiss by the arse.

Her body was a marvel, toned and strong, covered in mods. Only slightly shorter than his but wider at the hips and almost wider at the shoulders too. He started to take charge in the kiss and she rose to meet him, the embrace growing more and more passionate. His hands found their way along her sides to the front and found a mostly unmodded chest with muscle behind exquisite breasts. Her arse was strong, there was still fat and softness but under that there was a capable body. Chase brought his hands up to her neck and then she broke off the kiss.

“Not so fast, big boy. A girl’s gotta have some secrets!”

“You’re completely naked as far as I can tell!” Chase retorted. She hadn’t broken completely from his embrace but he was under no illusions as to who was in control of the situation.

“You are perceptive. I am not clothed, how foolish of me.”

“I really want to see you, Sami.”

“Aww, sweet boy,” she said as she danced around him again, “You’re going to have to wait your turn for that. Maybe on the third date.” The blur caused noticeably more pain as she said that. Resigned, Chase closed his eyes and dropped to a knee and then all the way down into a seated child’s pose. At this particular moment of inebriation Chase probably would have set fire to himself if she asked him to and handed him a match. So many thoughts buzzed noisily around his mind. Two hands lifted his jaw and those lips returned to his for a short kiss.

“You’re too sweet, sugar,” She said into his ear as her arms wrapped under his own and began to pull him upright. Eyes still closed he stood. “Fine, I’ll give you a quick peak but you’ll have to wait for any more.” Her hands moved back up to his face while holding his own. She’d made a little wall of hands beside his eyes and then she said, “you can open your eyes now.”

In just a glimpse Chase saw one of the most beautiful and unique faces he’d ever seen. She had a small pale, indeterminately asianic face. The ridges that extended over her arms, back and legs were again present on her face and almost looked like cat’s whiskers or exaggerated wrinkles. Her head was smooth and bald with a tattoo of some kind or some other kind of mod. Her pupils were reflective silver with circuit traces on them. Unsettling but transfixing. Which only made the pain so much more once she re-enabled her blockers. Chase yearned for more but trying to see her again hurt. The pain was unbearable now so much so that he brought his hands to his face and clawed at his eyes. Sami’s hands went out empathetically and pulled his head down.

“I like you, Chase,” She said over the din into his ear, “What you’re going to do now is listen carefully to me because I’m going to take you home. You’re going to stay here for exactly one more hour and then you’ll leave. You’ll walk out the door and turn left, then walk straight until you come to a road and then turn left again. Then straight, then left. Three lefts. You’ll remember because you are my smart boy now and I’ll find you after the lea left. Don’t leave me hanging, I won’t wait long.”

She was gone the moment her hands left his face and Chase was overcome with elation and exasperation. He just stood there unable to move. Another hand pulled his head down and lips met his but they weren’t Sami’s. He needed out of here. Nets back on he sent a message to Reg to get a drink. The drugs were almost making him cry now, emotions barely contained and the music suddenly seemed oppressively loud.

Reg replied with a visual of a table up a small hill from the pit with some rudimentary chairs. Hands groped and clawed as he tried to extricate himself from the dancing masses but they were too much now. It was all too much. The coke was fading and with that worry was setting in that he’d been stood up and that he was going to be late and miss her. He already missed her. They’d only been together for half an hour at best and he missed her already. What a fucking idiot. No one had made him feel like this in years. His job was to make people feel like this, not to fall for some unbelievable goddess himself. How the fuck had she mind raped him so quickly.

Reg was waiting where he said he’d be, his shirt was mostly ripped from him and some skin too for good measure. He looked smugly self-satisfied and held out a bottle of beer for Chase. Chase took the beer and sat across from him on the flimsy steel chair.

“You look like someone chopped off your nuts and fed them to you,” Reg exclaimed in a sly rolling tone, “I can tell you’ve got a story that you need to to tell so fucking out with it.”

“I met the most amazing person over there. Well, a couple really but one in particular. She blew my mind man, blew my fucking brains out and didn’t even blink. And it wasn’t a blowjob or anything like that either. I dunno man, it was mad. She had some serious military or megacorpo gear too. Went straight through my firewalls without a hint of difficulty, like hacking a Basic. No fucking idea how she did that–”

” Fuck man, slow down. I gave you enough Ket to tranquilise a deer, and you’re rattling off like no tomorrow.”

“Bit of acid in that K too. You probably should have warned me of that one. I’ve still got a bit going on.”

“Nah, she’s fucking peaches, man. It’s the place for it and I won’t hear otherwise. Had a fucking time myself too. Even got the old boy wet.”

“Reg, you’re a degenerate. Seriously, man, that fucking woman in there. I can’t fucking believe it. She asked me to come home with her, but not straight away. I know she needs to get dressed. Yes, she was fucking nude in the pit like a proper animal. Fuck man, I can’t fucking believe it. I haven’t felt like this in ages. Years, even. She fucking got me good.”

“Sounds like you’re about to fuck her back good too. Fucking well played, son. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving cunt. Put one in her for me.” Reg said with a wink and chinked the top of the bottle with his own. “You know after such a badly worded introduction you better fucking follow through, ya cunt.”

“Oh, you can talk. If there was one I’d move the world for it was her. Sami, she said her name was.” Reg looked up at him from the pit unemotively.

“Mate, just make it happen. You’ve been down for a bit, you need a time. Get some steam outta your arse. I’m fucking happy for you. Don’t worry about me either, got enough to keep me going all night and then some. Hopefully someone takes me home too instead of just taking me on the floor again but beggers can’t be choosers. I’ll die a happy man tonight if my heart gives out.”

“You’re too young for that talk, ya clown. Fucking take it easy and then over easy tomorrow. Thanks, Reg, I needed this and I owe you some drugs.”

“You owe me nothing. We’ll do this again next week unless this bitch pops a fucking ring and the handcuffs on you. Have a good night, Chase, and give her a kiss for uncle fucking Reg.”

The mirror was not where Chase wanted to be. His suit was mostly on, even reattached his tie in a loose knot. He briefly considered buying the kilt for good luck but thought he was being dumb. His hair a mess and stubble already peaking through. Staring at it didn’t help either, it just made the hairs dance like seagrass under waves. Colour spilled onto his white shirt but only inside his own mind. Boots on and a second glance at his watch, he’d been in the dressing room for eleven minutes already and he had one to go. The seconds ticked by in hours. He didn’t want to miss his chance and he felt that early or late would ruin everything right now. One must be utterly, impeccably, unmissably on time. Precisely on the exact second.

It was time, exactly one hour. Chase left the building and turned left. He hadn’t realised going in that the venue was on a single vehicle street. These were rare now as there were only so many people who were permitted to own or use single vehicle traffic and there were only so many places they wanted to go. Freight usually went autonomously or on larger vehicles so small streets were uncommon. Nightlife districts, prestigious schools, halls of power and residential areas of single dwelling buildings were it for streets, the last vestiges of another age. Straight was the only choice as a barrier blocked entry into the vehicled tarmac. A crosswalk ahead, time for left. This street had expensive stores and large well tended trees. Marble pavement. So much fucking money. Chase looked for the watchers, some of these places had security to keep out undesirables, redirecting them back to their lesser peers. This street was quite long with just more and more of the same. It was nice and exuded wealth but it lacked a personality. Finally a lane. Was this the point to turn? Should he keep walking? The thought wracked his mind as it struggled with patterns in marble. Fuck it, left.

The lane was narrower than the street but still wide enough for an autonomous truck to deliver some expensive shit for rich people to fawn over. Concrete now and smoother than the marble as it lacked any imperfections of pesky geology. Glass storefronts became steel doors and brick walls. So many colours and patterns. His anxiety over possibly missing Sami was not helping the hallucinations that permeated every regular surface with disorder escaping. Glimmers and blurs were foreboding. Chase’s heart rate quickened beyond what the brisk walk would induce in even the most unhealthy person. His arse was pinched causing him to jump around in circles. No one, then a hand on his cheek and Sami faded into being. She was dressed now, disappointingly but fashionably in a vintage bomber jacket, bra and some pink hotpants.

“Give me all your money, punk, or I’ll fucking shank you.” She laughed at him. Her smile contagious.

“I thought I’d gone the wrong way, I–”

“I am not the one you want to meet in a dark alleyway, I’ll fucking eat you.” She took him by the hand and led him down the lane, faster now.

“You are exactly who I wanted to meet in an alley. I was worried you’d left me.”

“You poor sweet boy. I am a woman of her word,” She was still smiling and definitely not in a way that begs trustworthiness. A slight skip.

“I’m glad, hell, I’m fucking over the moon. I want you so bad, Sami.”

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m not yours, your fucking mine.” She said with another laugh as she picked him up in a fireman’s carry and broke into a light run with ease. Chase wasn’t mistaken before by the hidden strength in her. He was an easy 85kg and she was carrying him without breaking a sweat. He was limp in complete trust and adoration. She turned quickly into a doorway, his hair brushing the frame before launching up a flight of stairs. After the first floor she put him down in another doorway, planting a kiss on his head as he sat there on his arse. Before running towards an elevator. Chase struggled to his feet amist carpet that was fucking atrocious and a pack of worms before he ran to meet her at the elevator where he retook her hand. The door opened and she hit the top floor button.

“So, do you like awkward silences too?” She poked in jest. That fucking smile.

“Err, no. Sorry. I’m fucking struggling a bit. Had a bit of acid earlier and, you know, seeing shit.”

“I don’t but I appreciate your honesty. You’re a good egg, I think I’ll keep you.” The doorbell rang while Chase’s brain swarmed with images of being an egg. Definitely poached, he thought. An air taxi. Always available but an extravagance usually beyond reasonable desire for him even at his most impulsive. Tonight though he was ultimately thankful. It meant they’d get wherever they were going as fast as possible, wherever that was was with her. She was an absolute stunner. He could feel his cock growing within his trousers as he sat and it seems she also noticed. Self-consciously he moved to cover himself with a hand when she planted a kiss on his lips and her warm tongue reached into his mouth. She was beyond imagination how did he get a woman like her?

The kiss lasted the entire flight and the doors opened to reveal another windswept roof and city lights in all directions. An ad suddenly appeared with some dancing cartoon character corrupted by acid. Holographic ads flowed over the horizon and the taxi was gone. Chase followed the hand that pulled him down the stars and into a door before another elevator. She flickered as they entered the elevator and disappeared out of vision.

“Don’t worry, I’m still here and you’ll have both kidneys in the morning.” It wasn’t her voice but he wasn’t worried because he could still feel her hand and feel her pulse, quicker than his somehow. He was trying to keep his nets off but they kept activating, possibly triggered by whatever exotic stealth system she had. The elevator dinged and she quickly put a card in his pocket with her other hand.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your key, you big dummy, number 716 on the right” She said, in his voice now. Why was she hiding here, what had he gotten himself in to? The room was a big dumb hotel room. Black, white and inoffensive. A big bed near the window, small table and chairs and some artwork that he’d punish an AI for creating a deeper shade of beige. Sami flickered back into the room and removed her jacket. Her silver eyes were more painful when he could see them than when they were hidden. Her stealth seemed to work by wrecking other people’s vision instead of camouflaging her skin, novel. Her lip quivered slightly and he was upon her, arms wrapping around each other and becoming one. His hands expertly unclipped her bra, he’d learned most clothing intimately for dramatic effect in work. Hands in the hotpants fumbling for his fingers were slightly too high up. The walls were shaking uncontrollably now but he was trying to shut that out and focus on her. Her smile had changed, lighter and expectant, they stopped clawing at each other and just looked into their eyes for a minute before continuing anew. Naked now, erect and pressed together. Chase lifted Sami up and pressed her into the wall before entering.

By the third time they were in bed. Softer now, more touching and hugging. The emotional release had made space for the acid in his brain to ruin his visions of perfection in his eyes forcing him to close them and instead become confronted with thoughts of trains and highways. He was struggling to hold a thought even while his body demanded he focus on the task. Eyes still closed he came again suddenly and collapsed beside her. She nestled into him and they just lay together for a long while before her scent and touch drove him to action once more. 4am and a mod was warming him about a lack of sugar in his bloodstream and how it would increase his risk of a painful hangover. Sami sensed his distraction and rolled off him. She kissed him once more.

“You need some sleep or you’re going to collapse. Rest now, sweet prince.” she said as she kissed him once more on the head and cut the lights, closing her own eyes with a contented sigh. He was asleep in seconds.

Reg

2pm and an alert was flashing through closed eyes. A call. Fuck me, why? Reg opened his eyes to see a mess of empty drinks and the remains of a line of cocaine on a mirror atop the opium table. The notification still flashed over his entire vision.

“Reg, you dodgy fucker, you’ve got work to do. 15 minutes, subway on thirteenth. Get a fucking move on.” Fucking Johannes. Only he could make a terrible hangover worse. Johannes was Reg’s minder and only contact point with the organisation. You could say he was Reg’s boss but that would be misleading, he was just as much of a peon as Reg was. A scrawny, small man with raggedy blonde hair. He wasn’t suited to the work so he became more of a minion herder whose force came from his assignment and the knowledge those he would order about. Johannes was the last arsehole Reg wanted to see.

Reg looked as bad as he felt. The bathroom cabinet had a few painkillers and stims to take the edge off the comedown. He’d definitely needed it to make it through the coming day. A quick brush and an energy drink, new shirt, pants and out the door. This was going to be fucked with a capital F.

The subway was near empty as Reg walked in. He really didn’t want to work today and it was really bringing him down from the highs of last night. So many faces and bodies, blurring into a happy buzz that was being washed away by the thought of working. He couldn’t say no to the work though, he wasn’t in Chase’s position. His living was tenuous and one fuck up would see him out so quick the door wouldn’t even hit his arse on the way into Basic. The instructions on encrypted text band were to take the first subway that stopped at platform three and ride until he was told to disembark. At least that was simple. He started a particularly memorable tune from last night. His mods weren’t as sophisticated as Chase’s either. He still needed a hand terminal to do some things but optics, audio and some recording was all ready to go. Plus a few combat mods for aim assist and two bone knives. Those were absolute fuckers to get back in but they came in handy sometimes and were more than capable of going through aluminium or someone’s face. The subway was out of the corpo districts now and heading for the Basic tenements. Looked like a day of deliveries for the aspirational fools who weren’t aware that crime would never let them climb as high as they wanted to go. Poor saps.

“Press to disembark now!” A message shouted in his ear. Yep, fucking tenement towers. High rise, identical concrete towers. Not ugly but not attractive either. These were the byproducts of the final stage of corpo takeover mid century. AIs were taking all the jobs and unemployment was through the roof, real estate was starting to falter because the majority couldn’t afford it any more so loans and rents were in arrears everywhere. Urban chaos and strikes were almost night and day everyday. As government loans began to grow completely unmanageable corporates combined to take over more and more functions of government until the government’s were merely debt holders for corporate services. Eventually, somewhere, the corporates came up with the idea of forgiving their own debts for even more control and either through charity or just a lack of available customers left to buy anything they began rolling out basic income and providing almost all services to people free of charge. They still owned absolutely everything and this wasn’t altruism, it was a takeover of the state and the price was that they utterly controlled every aspect of most people’s lives, from food and health to policing and imprisonment. Automation had solved most problems by then, buildings could be built, food grown, cities cleaned, waste collected, even surgery no longer needed the human in the loop so all profits went start to the owners of the machines. Those owners really needed a plan to stop everyone asking why there was no cake and why they didn’t get anything so basic took over. Laws shifted to reduce costs, everything shifted to reduce costs. Basic almost everywhere was unconditional, you could do anything or nothing, but not everywhere. Some corpostates are more puritanical than others with punishments from sterilisation to execution regularly metted out. But most provided the minimum for someone to live a happy, long life of passive consumption in the limited realm of their tower and surrounds. Education was used to lift some skills up into real employment but for the most part people stayed where they were fucked, ate, drank and died. It’s made deliberately easy and liberal in order to keep people in line and in their place. The smarter, stronger or even more attractive ones make it out but most are stuck where they are. Some dream of bigger things, entrepreneurial endeavours or aspire to rise above their station but for the most part they just lived and enjoyed life like fucking consumers should. Human fucking cattle for the most part. But Reg was here to deal with the uppity ones.

Floor 16, unit 33. Some kids were smoking a joint in the hallway a bit of fucking litter that the bots hadn’t cleansed yet. Tiled and robust, designed for reliability at last to protect the investment made in creating their copy-pasted design. Reg slammed the door before the delivery task popped into his feed. The door opened and a young woman in a simple satin dress opened the door. Juliet Weir, 24, Basic Recipient, multiresistent gonorrhoea, no children, electrical engineer. Reg was almost attracted until he got down the feed. A pickup, custom handheld, keep concealed and clean, do not break.

“You have something for me, Love,” Reg stated.

“When do I get the credits?” She said, in a smooth voice but betraying a hint of desperation.

“Fucked if I know, I’m just the deliveryman. Give me the terminal and then we can both get on with our day. I have a job and a limited patience so make it easy for both of us and just hand it over.” She sighed and disappeared back inside before returning with the terminal. Reg put it in his shoulder bag and smiled.” That’s for making this easy, love. Have a great day. “

Reg was back down the elevator following directions again. The directions always babied him, never letting on at the destination, just the next task he needed to do to get there. Limited autonomy to determine the exact methods except when it came to violence or dealing with people. Reg was directed to find a bike under the next building. Standard Basic ebike but at least charged and tuned so he wasn’t riding some dead piece of shit this time. Fucking small mercies. The ride was pleasant in the shade of the buildings and kept cool by the columns of wind. His path seemed to even be optimised so the drafts were assisting him and minimising the battery usage. Fucking machines could get things right sometimes. Another tower, 1037B, floor 39, unit 3 on the right. No smoking kids this time and a fresh coat of white paint. Always white fucking paint. The feed continued: Walther Mert Clegg, 47, Male post op, Basic Recipient, Criminal record for violence, extortion and theft, multiple counts, partially reformed, three children - location unknown, task is information, ensure concealment. A knock on the door and a small balding overweight man opened it in just an old pair of jeans.

“Walther, I’m coming in for a chat.”

“Like hell you are, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Look, mate, I’m not here because I want to be here, I’m here because you have a fucking job to do now let me in and shut the fuck up and listen.” Walther realised then what was happening and returned the bat to its home behind the door. He knew what this was and he’d probably been here before. Reg entered and looked around, mods on now to look for bugs. He uploaded the script to temporarily disable the safety monitors in the rooms and ensured no one was listening. Then once he was sure that at least no standard recording methods were on he read out the monologue.

“At 1800 you are to retrieve the contents of locker 1508 at the bottom floor of this building with code 11371. The package will contain half the payment and a tool. You will then head to Southern Mall in District 7 to attend the afternoon showing of the action movie at the cinema there. Further instructions and details of the target are in the package. Complete the job and you will be given details of the where to pick up the rest of your payment. That’s all, I’m fucking out.” Reg delivered and left. Boring and simple, why did they wake me up for this shit. Three more very mundane messages delivered from the bike and then a message in the feed that the next was the last for the day. A few more kilometers ride.

“Hello, anyone there,” Reg shouted again and then knocked harder. Still no details on the mission, just the address. Another heavier knock and the message chirped out, unknown number of individuals, expect violence, mission is to damage Yana White, 18, Female, send message of displeasure. Cunts, why finish on this. Reg’s head was killing him now as the painkillers had worn off. He stopped knocking and activated the mod on his pinky finger to activate the Basic skeleton key, the chip delivered the correct code and the door popped open. No immediate signs of anyone inside. A small amount of mess on the floor and kitchen. These rooms were all in three forms and Reg had practiced hand to hand combat in every form thousands of times. There were few ways to hide that he had not been coached with a response to. The seats were warm in IR, three humans which the AI said were likely all adults or juveniles. Reg didn’t bother to say anything, there was no advantage in threats or warnings and the mission was clear. Footprints on the carpet showed at least one of the three was barefoot and had been there 3 minutes ago, approximately when he started knocking. Two in the bathroom, one in the bedroom; form 13 response. Reg moved for the bathroom until he was exactly two foot lengths from the door. Right knee to just below the handle and push with left hand. The door crashed open and smashed against a figure hiding behind it. A youth in the bathtub was not ready for the uppercut and hook, dropping the knife into his own foot. Reg turned and kicked sideways into the charging female with a machete high above her. His boot caught her in the ribs and dropped her to the floor. A second slam into the door had the figure behind it yelp in pain. Yana was machete, Reg pulled the door closed and activated the electronic lock to shut the others in the bathroom and slammed a foot down upon eYana’s back.

“You gone done fucked up, Yana. Your participation is not optional. You signed an agreement, you are in absolutely no position to demand or negotiate changes,” Reg read from the feed. His hand was slightly bruised from the cheekbone of the youth.

“Go fuck yourself, arsehole,” Yana spat blood onto the floor before her.

“You’re lucky that’s not in my fucking orders, lassy. You are being given one more chance, you have 24 hours to complete your task or there will be consequences.” Reg continued to read and then paused briefly at ‘break three fingers on her left hand’. Fucking AIs. Reg picked up the chopping board in the kitchen and slammed the corner down on her pinky and ring finger. Yana screamed in agony. Reg lifted the blooded board and placed it over her index finger and then slammed his foot down on top of it. Another scream.

“Fuck this shit,” Reg said and left without closing the door. The feed told him his participation was satisfactory and that there was a subway thirteen hundred meters down the mall and the bike was to be left at the subway gate. Reg sighed and got back on the bike.

Chase

Chase walked past manicured gardens that lined the path from the subway to his office. Thursday had been somewhat confusing and relaxing. He had woken up with Sami naked beside him cutely snoring, they had embraced once more and then she made him breakfast of eggs on rice. Real eggs too with a delicious sauce he’d never tasted before. She was a dream and then by noon she was dressed and gone leaving him with a note while he was in the shower that she’d be in touch and she had somewhere to be now and she was sorry she couldn’t stay. Plus a prepaid air taxi to his apartment building. Chase had taken his time to leave the hotel, at least twice returning to bed to drink in the smells of their love making before departing for an uneventful flight.

He was still absorbed by the memories of the night before. A pleasant feeling rose in him every time he thought of her. Suits walked around him as the corpo drones that were still required to work on tasks that machines didn’t do entered their workplaces. His office was ahead, United Media Corp. While everything seemed open and welcoming, Chase was well aware of the hidden and ubiquitous security systems. He remembered a disgruntled fan trying to breach the doors that opened willingly for him who was tazed before he got through. Chase entered the elevator and found another woman in it heading to another floor dressed in jeans and t-shirt. She was pacing with a nervous energy until she got out at a floor below him.

Chase found his way to his desk and sat down to get started. His office was large and opulent. Chairs, couches, multiple desks and a full haptic VR room. Chase had everything he could need to deliver, his task today was to formulate a character which caused particular emotions not completely dissimilar to his current feelings for Sami so the morning breezed through. He was careful not to let any memories of her leach into the work as that would almost certainly be noticed by someone who knew his name and had a stealth combat mod system. Lunch came before he realised the time and his feed alerted to him that his boss, the bastard, needed to talk.

Zarah Ishwar was a short and powerful woman, indeterminate age but likely well into her 60s or 70s with modifications to look 40 years younger. Wealth and deception went hand in hand and she wasn’t a worker but a representative of the owners. She was a terrifying figure that unsettled most she talked to through presence alone but Chase knew that it was training and mods. She was crafted to be the person she was much a fiction and the workers she commanded created. And she didn’t look pleased as he entered her office.

“Your work has been slipping, Gagnon. I like you and I’ve liked your work in the past but your output lately has been slipping. The owners are displeased.” She said without breaking eye contact.

“Is this because I took a day off yesterday?”

“Not entirely, but at least in part. We care about your wellbeing and your development. While we do have an unlimited leave policy the systems feel you would benefit from some time in erotica.” Fuck me, no. Chase hated it as it usually meant developing scenes or reactions to things so sick that the AIs couldn’t comprehend a human reaction to it. It was always niche perversions that some fuckers had imagined and wanted more of. Fucking damaging shit. She continued, “Two weeks, Chase. You’re dismissed.”

Chase walked out of Zarah Ishwar’s office deflated. He didn’t want this but he knew he’d need to just grin and bear it. They usually set this sort of thing up with a punishment and then two days before the end it would break suddenly and a reward would be given. It was predictable that once you discovered your optimisation you could almost game it. He knew another employee a few floors down who gamed it and would gleefully take the punishment but bait the emotional sensors so successfully that they would give him a bonus and time off for a month after each stick session. The machines struggled to emotionally regulate masters of emotional manipulation. Chase wasn’t keen on two weeks of playing at being remorseful and browbeaten to satisfy the idiot bots Zarah Ishwar’s used to do her job. He was really sick of this shit. This pattern of deception they all played. It was fucking pointless. And he loathed the shit he was forced into creating in these periods.

The afternoon was a VR response session but his mind wasn’t in it. He was hating the content and his mind kept drifting towards thoughts of Sami. When would she call? He hoped she hadn’t forgotten about him. That she couldn’t forget him and that her emotions matched his. He wanted this to work, it had been so long since he’d felt this much lust for someone. A secret cognition mod told him he needed to phase shift to appease the monitor so he did and churned out the rest of the day.

For the afternoon commute he decided to jog instead of walking. Both to improve his physique and to escape the ads. The underways were relaxing and he let his thoughts drift into reliving his experiences from the other night. He regretted not recording the encounter but he knew that it was right not to secretly record intimacy and that she could probably kill him so it wasn’t worth the risk. You don’t anger someone like that if you valued your own life. He ordered some fitness supps and he sprinted into the elevator for the station and scheduled a beauty treatment for the weekend. He wanted to be his best for their next encounter and he wanted something else to focus on than the world of shit his employment would become for the next two weeks. It was the weekend for now at least so that was Monday’s problem. He thought about having a drink but instead let his fitness assistant direct him into a workout once he got home. Things were looking up despite being so down.

Sami

Sangmi Nemeth, or Sami as she was known to most people, sat naked on the end of her bed. Beeanca Eire, her girlfriend of 7 years, was still fast asleep. She was so beautiful when she slept, unnaturally radiant and calm. Beeanca’s heart rate was a steady 32 beats per minute and her breathing was steady, she wouldn’t notice Sami getting up just as Sami intended by waiting for her to slip into a REM cycle so that she ensured the outcome. She stood and walked to the downstairs bathroom to shower and wash her lover’s smell off herself before she left for the day. She didn’t want to be awake but she had been given a job to do. She smiled at the cat, Mortimer, as she came out of the shower. Cats were remarkably consistent in their demeanour and committed to their own sense of superiority. She saw some of herself in the pet but she knew she was an actual beast instead of just a perception of being one. She dressed simply, with a gun holstered under her left arm and left the apartment for the subway. Beeanca would be disappointed when she woke but she could handle her displeasure lately and apologise. Plus, she knew her own power over their relationship and who needed who more.

The subway wasn’t crowded at 4am on a Tuesday which was no surprise to her at all. She was to go to a closed clubhouse in the financial district to meet someone else and then to head out. It was almost certainly violence to require more than one for a mission. Not that she was upset by that, she enjoyed the fear and excitement of the fight. Violence was a challenge, you had to out think and out compete in an ultimate challenge. Failure was never an option. External ads screamed past her, internal ads were not able to affect her due to her milspec mods. She was one of the blessed few who never had to see any of the crap. Her and the owners who wrote the rules. An elderly man almost sat on her, obviously not modded enough to feel pain from her mods, Sami moved at the last second to avoid his posterior and stood to avoid any looks that others without mods might spring on her. She moved gracefully and deliberately so nothing looked out of place had anyone else other than the silly old man been able to see her. Sami took a stimulant in preparation for action, she needed to be at the top of her abilities because it could be anything she was walking into and the machines were not prone to warning of what was about to happen.

The club was bleak. Fake neon everywhere, black sticky floor and poles. A fucking strip club. She hadn’t noticed coming in because she’d used a backstage door to enter. Three figures stood inside in an open space between two catwalks. A man in combat fatigue pants and a black singlet, well built, possibly exmil but likely just a cosplayer. A woman with an actual scar over her left eye and similar camouflage to Sami, she was wearing a white dress with two submachine guns under the skirt. And a man in a traditional business suit who was the shortest of the bunch but who held himself with a readiness that spoke of serious ability.

The LARPer was talking, “Thank you for joining us, Ms Nemeth. I am Commander Rex,” Fucking nepobaby on a power trip, what a wanker, “This is Zee,” The woman in the dress, “and, the short guy is Mr Big.” You give my real name arsehole and then you give me fucking pseudonyms. Sami was already seething but she was a talented actor so she smiled and nodded. Always let people think you’re an idiot. She really didn’t like this guy and worried he was about to get them all killed with his over inflated sense of competence.

“Now listen up, grunts. We’re in for a handover today and we think it’s going to go south. And not the good south,” Rex continued, “We have a hostage of theirs and they have one of ours. Ideally, the two will pass and bygones are bygones but the AIs and the owners suspect foul play. So that’s why I’ve called you in to be my muscle in case they think they can cross me. Your number one, two and three goals are making sure I get out of there alive.” Oh this is a fucking trap, she thought he’d have trouble getting out of bed in the morning without killing himself. “Secondary to that is getting our girl home safe, she’s important, but not that important. I am the VIP. Layout is an old steel mill in the sub levels, broadcasting floorplan now. It’s a mess with lots of broken shit so make sure you’ve had your shots. Y’all all to hide and stay hidden while I do the talking. Armoury is over there and we’ll fly out in half an hour. Once we get close you are to drop onto other buildings and make your own way down. You’ll have one hour to get in and get hidden before I make my grand entrance. Talk amongst yourselves for a bit and formulate a plan. I’ll be here if you have any questions but I don’t expect any, you’re all professionals.”

Sami started for the armoury without betraying any of her feelings and, boy, did she have some fucking reservations about this mission. This was a shit sandwich of a mission. “Commander” Rex was a fucking inherited idiot who was likely to get them all killed. She had to hope now that her comrades were legit or she’d be trying her best to get her own arse out in one piece and then to make a break for another city somewhere because Rex’s corpos daddy would be out for blood if he gets injured. Sami caught up to Zee and signalled to go to encrypted tight beam. Zee nodded.

“You don’t know me but I’ve watched you work before, Sami,” The message read in a child’s voice. “I’m glad there is at least two of us with some fucking ability on this. My name’s Zee, I’m a F State Enforcer and I was special forces in Texas. We need to stop this degenerate from killing himself.”

“Texas is before my time but I heard it was pretty hardcore. Do you know ‘Mr Big’?”

“No, I’ve never seen him before. He’s all analog so possibly insurance against hacking. I’ll try and figure him out once we’re further away from the nepobaby. I can see you have a pretty serious stealth fit out but you need to be careful with those active systems as they’ll spot that and just shoot the blur. Focus on blinding them once we come out of hiding instead of assuming they won’t spot us.” She messaged as she began stripping off her frilly dress down to just skin tone underwear. She was fitting a bandoleer with a mesh belt so she probably had skin based camo and might be running about nude in there. Big had pulled out a suitcase from somewhere and was pulling various knives out of it. Sami wasn’t sure what to go for but decided on a laser DMR, clearance machine pistol and her standard sidearm after spotting some extra clips for it.

“Hey, Mr Big,” Zee started, “Do you speak English? You seem analog, are you here for hacking protection.”

Mr Big nodded twice and pointed to his mouth which he opened. No tongue. Fuck, this was getting better by the minute. He signed in the air that his name was Eric, not fucking Big. That Rex was a jerk and that his proficiency was hand to hand combat so he’d get as close to Rex as possible and try to stop anyone else getting closer. This might work out yet but she still didn’t like the odds. She selected a lightweight projectile vest, every little bit would help.

“Well, it looks like mostly you and me sister. Let’s hope the mute is actually good with those blades or he’ll be in a bag next to Rex. Can you handle falls?”

“To about 40 metres, give or take. Got some skeletal supports.” Sami said.

“Good, let’s go high so we can keep an eye on the shit show and go where we’re needed. The beams in the plans look big enough for both of us to to hide in. You might even be able to line up some shots with that light cannon.”

“Let’s fucking hope so, I want to stay as far away from those to as I can for as long as possible.”

The flight was very quiet, except for Rex who seemed to have jitters and a fucking loud mouth. He was nervously trying to tell them his insights and how he’d lead them to victory but a glance at Zee let her know that she was thinking the same thing. Eric was obviously silent and unreadable. The pilot messaged to say their drops were coming up and she was first. Her feed them showed her landing zone, go time in thirty seconds, moving drop from 15 mitres. Stealth engaged, jump. Sound landing, slight crack in the roofing tile, 25 floors of stairs but wide enough to zip line down. Another crack at the bottom of the stairwell, maybe she was carrying a couple more kilos. Door needed picking but it was old school analog and lead directly into the automated steel mill. It wasn’t abandoned so noisier than she expected. That was a good and a bad thing, it would mean she won’t need to walk too softly. She made her way down to the rafters of the main shed and nestled without stealth into an I-beam.

“I’m 10 metres back, your position is good, got your six. Didn’t spot anyone on the way in.” Zee said on a maser comm which would be undetectable unless someone was already on top of her. They were about 50 metres above the main hall floor with several gantries between them and the floor. This place was an absolute mess of hiding spots.

56 minutes later and Rex entered the hall from the door at the far end below them. He had a small, thin figure in an orange jumpsuit with a black bag over their head beside him. He was holding some stupid cannon of a gun, large and belt fed ammunition which might be useful if he gets attacked by a tank. He was shouting something she was glad she couldn’t hear but she rotated anyway so she could lip read his next insight.

“I’m here and ready to make the trade. Man of my word.” she lip read, thankful he didn’t say ‘we’.

Another shout from somewhere on the other side of her beam. Zee tight beamed it, “male, armed with a sniper rifle. Says, he wants honesty and to make the trade.”

“Don’t fuck me, Charles. We know each other well so let’s settle this like gentlemen.” Fuck me, Rex was a liability.

“Our target hostage is roughly 60kg, bagged similar in a white jumpsuit. ‘Charles’ says he wants honesty and they both want a good outcome.” Zee messaged.

“Let’s do this then. Send both forward to the barrel there and then they walk past each other.” Well, if our hostage or their hostage is an agent then the other hostage is about to die when they walk past each other. What a mess.

“I can see Eric, he’s on the move down there and almost behind their idiot.” Zee messaged while adjusting her gun. Rex’s eye was twitching, as the hostages walked towards the middle. He’s a fucking loose cannon. Keeps playing with the strap on his stupid gun. Rex is pulling his gun up. Sami tight beams this to Zee. They both hear Charles yell, “What the fuck are you doing, Rex?” and then gunfire booms out from the stupid cannon. He’s shooting at one of the gantries. Hits something too because blood is splattering on the floor. Fucking hell. No combatants seen yet. Wait, stealth suit almost directly across from the other one that’s dripping on floor around splintering metal as Rex continues shooting at the same place. Sami takes the shot and blasts a hole through the sniper and the floor. A spray of bullets hits the bottom of the bar she’s lying in. Time to go, she rolls and falls, aiming for a gantry above the one with the two dead stealth snipers. She sees another as she falls and drops the DMR for the machine pistol. A shot rings out from where Zee was and she messages she’s dropping too. Everything moves fast as Sami runs and jumps over the gantry barrier driving for the one one below that her new target is on. Pistol outstretched the clip makes short work of the figure. Zee fires above and two bodies fall over the side. Rex has stopped shooting and Sami looks down to see Charles take a dagger to the throat, probably from Eric. Both hostages drop and a smoke cloud opens up over them. A second later another cloud opens up over Rex. A very rapid round of shooting above and three more bodies hit the floor of the gantry. Two stealth bodies dropped near Rex with blood poring from their necks. One of the hostages was screaming, so was a slumped Rex.

And then she watched Eric go down. An assailant rolled towards him and launched - two shotgun shells into him at close range. Blood pooled out onto the anti-slip patterned floor, white suit turned red. The shells fell to the floor and she saw Zee’s bullet hit the skull of the body that fired them. Rex was thrashing on the ground now a few metres away where another figure was phasing in and out of stealth above him. She fired two shots into the skull of the the figure and they fell onto Rex which increased his wailing. This clusterfuck was only getting more fucked up. Zee fired once more, an automated burst and then another clunk as a body fell from a gantry.

Silence was always uncomfortable in battle. The only thing she could hear was Rex’s whimpers and the sound of liquids dripping. Zee tight beamed, “I can’t see any hostiles. Possibly clear but we need to move fast. Grab the hostages, I’ll get Rex.”

Sami trusted Zee’s instincts and experience after seeing them in action. She jumped to the hostages and dragged both by the necks into cover behind a section of barrels. Zee pulled Rex from under the other and dragged him off to cover near her. Rex was barely conscious, the hostages were both conscious but in shock. Both appears uninjured.

“Out, southwest, 40 metres.” Zee tight beamed. Sami yanked up the disgruntled hostages once again and needed to dodge a fist from the one in orange. She made the stairwell in a dozen second and closed the door after her, Zee already there. Zee pulled two darts from her bandoleer and tranquilised the hostages. Her rope was already flowing freely in the stairwell, Zee signalled up with her hand, looked to thing for a second and then pulled out another dart and tranquilised Rex as well. Zee pulled up a bag from the bottom of the rope which contained harnesses and automated drives.

“I only have three so we’ll have to do this in phases. I’ll stay at the bottom and weld the door closed. Go now, Rex first then drop back down.” Sami didn’t wait, she harnessed Rex and then gripped him tight while she pressed the pull button and they quickly ascended 38 floors. Flipped his limp body over the barrier, unlatched the harness and she was back down.

Bullets were still ricocheting off the door when she landed. Harness on orange and time to go. Zee was only 15 metres below her so it’d need to be a quick release or they’d probably all fall. She wasn’t harnessed on herself so there was no scope for failure. On the stairs she began to lift orange and Rex and head for the top door. She hoped and assumed there was a pickup coming for them but if not then that would be on theme. Zee cut the rope after she was detached. She’d gone the other way and harnessed herself and carried the hostage. The door opened and there was no pickup. She didn’t even need to look at Zee to know what she was saying.

“45 seconds, Sami, prepare for breach.” Zee tight beamed as she readied her aim on the door they’d just closed. They both waited in silence and it began to rain. Gun poised to strike out with deadly effect, dripping, they waited. Sound of VTOL engines powering down for landing boomed. Water from the pad blasted their backs without breaking a beat. Others jumped from the vehicle, Zee tight beamed for her to watch the door while she assesed. Safe, ish. The other figures pull the hostages and Rex onto the vehicle. Zee ordered her to follow as she covered the door while walking backwards up the stairs to the pad. All on the aircraft they took off.

Zee pulled the hood off the orange hostage. Young female, no ID and she wasn’t stupid enough to scan the nets either. White was a bald genderless figure that looked slightly familiar. Rex was still alive but had received a stab wound to the chest and three bullets to his right leg that the medic on the plane was attending to. Overall, less bad that it could have been with that fuckstick in charge. Shame about Eric, he looked like he knew the game except this time he lost. Zee was calm and still in a bra and briefs, a true professional who had obviously seen worse shit than this. She was covered in blood but none of it seemed to be hers.

“You’re good, do you mind if I keep your deets for future jobs?” Zee tight beamed. She was good too, she knew not to give anything away. Knowledge was their ultimate power and their only real defence against people like Rex.

“Sure, as long as it’s mutual.”

“You’ve got a deal, sister. Best of luck in future. This is my stop.” A future message with an internet address and she was gone out the side of the aircraft. No obvious signs where she landed. Sami thought of doing the same thing but thought her chances were higher if she ensured Rex didn’t jump out of the aircraft in a daze. Another day down. Another mostly fucked day and this wasn’t the worst way she’d had to use her body to make a coin.

Chase

Chase was at work, depressed and making a fiendish rapist for the United Media Corp. Zarah Ishwar was still an evil cow and Sami hadn’t called. It had been a week now and his dejection was morphing into despair. The work was soul destroying so he was trying his best to detach, even going as far as to neck some stimulants before starting shift to make the time fly and to help take the edge off the filthy practice. The stims had worked well at least, it was 5pm so almost time to go. The freedom of the silent passageways and the ability to switch his thoughts back to unrequited lust.

A message. Sami! “Chase, I need to see you tonight. Here’s the address, come at 8pm, I’ll be in the rear right corner booth.” And that was it. She hadn’t stood him up. His heart leapt but he tried to contain his emotions for a bit longer because he was still hooked into the work sensors and he was meant to be imagining the actions of an evil bastard. Just focus it down and contain it for a little longer.

Work took an eternity to finish and now he needed to kill an hour more before entering the bar. He’d figured that utter punctuality was important, she really didn’t seem like a woman who fucked around. Oh, she was his. He felt amazing, like punching clouds, he was giddy like a teenager. The thought of her lips, her breasts, her body. Soon, so soon. He stopped in at a noodle restaurant nearby and ordered some food and a beer. The beer went entirely too quickly as he was distracted by thoughts of her. His imagination was eating the rest of his brain so much that he’d barely touched his food. Nothing else compared.

The bar was dank and dim. This was a sleazy joint that wasn’t so much trying to look sleazy as it was actually and unequivocally sleazy. The floor stuck to his shoes and the walls were a shade of green that was hard to tell if it was grime or paint. His nerves were still killing him so he ordered a scotch and then made for the booth. Her back was to him and she was in a white tank top revealing familiar tattoos and a large scratch on her upper arm that had been stitched up. She turned to meet his gaze and smiled. It wasn’t as hypnotic as their first encounter but there was still a playfulness there that excited him to his core.

“Hey, Sami. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call.” As he said the words he cursed himself for his display of desperation. He wanted her to know that he missed her but not appear as a clingy fool.

“Oh you, “ She said with another cheeky smile, “I’m afraid that it’s not gunna be all pleasure tonight. But there will still be some pleasure.”

Chase sat down across from her, a little unsteady. Her mood was definitely different tonight, she was still utterly gorgeous but she was now also slightly distant. Her silver eyes still bright but there was a sadness there that she couldn’t hide. She seemed to notice his thought, she could read him like a book.

“You are really a sweet boy, Chase. I’ll level with you, this is not entirely my idea and I never wanted to play it this way.”

“What are you talking about?” She reached over and placed a hand on his cheek.

“Skin to skin comms, Chase. I don’t want anyone to hear any of this. Just look at me, kiss me if you have to but only talk over this frequency until I tell you to stop. We good?”

“Yes, we’re good.”

“You’re a smart boy. You would have figured it out eventually that I’m no what I seem and I’m sorry for leading you in. They wanted me to lead you on and use your lust against you. I can’t bring myself to do that to you, I do actually like you too much to fuck you over like that. I’ll tell you the full story because this shit is going to piss you off. Don’t run or fight though because then I’ll have to hurt you and I really don’t want to do that.”

Chase’s mind was swimming, what the fuck was going on here. She transmitted an image of the gun she had under the table to let him know that it wasn’t a hollow threat. He was terrified but also still wildly attracted to her despite whatever betrayal was taking place.

“You’ve got questions, so I’ll try and answer them as best I can. My employers picked you out for a job they’ve got planned. You are going to get very detailed instructions towards the end of this meeting. My role in this is as a fixer and an organiser. I was to compel you to work for them.”

“Did they order you to fuck me? Was this all a setup?” Chase was beginning to seethe with rage but he was good at controlling what emotions he let show. She was still one step ahead of him and moved over to his side of the table and took his head in both hands. Her arms were very powerful and he could feel that she could probably break his neck and that she almost certainly had before.

“No, that was me. I do actually like you, I was trailing you for a week before that night. I had to learn my target. I dunno, I kinda took a path I didn’t really think through. I’m sorry for hurting you like that. Are you calm now?”

A tear rolled down Chase’s cheek and she brushed it off with her thumb. He kissed her. A different kiss this time, less drugs and a whole lot of crazy emotions. She didn’t resist or pull away but she wasn’t entirely there.

“I’ve got more to tell you. I’m still under orders to kill you if you refuse or act unexpectedly so please, please, pay attention. Because I do like you and I really don’t want to have to kill you. They are going to use you, Chase, like they use me. It’s going to be fucked and it’s going to put you in clear danger. I may not be able to help you once this starts and you might still be killed or worse. I really am sorry for handing you this.” She looked at him in a way that let him know she meant it even over the raw, unfeeling text.

“It doesn’t sound like I have any choice at this point, anyway.”

“You are correct. I totally understand if you never want to see me again after this and I can try and get someone else to take over.”

“No! Don’t leave. I’m a fucking idiot but I still trust you. And, to be honest, I still want you too.” Trying to express so much emotion over messeges while right next to each other was strange and infuriating. She smiled back and wiped another of his tears away. He was on a rollercoaster and there was nothing he could do at this point other than sit there and take whatever else she could throw at him.

“You really are too good for me,” she messaged, “I really didn’t plan on this going down like this. But this is this. At least you are playing your part well of appearing terrified of me.” She let out a little giggle. “I’ll send the brief over to you for you to have a read. I’m going to need you to say, ‘I agree to do this task’ out loud for the listener somewhere. We aren’t alone so please try and keep yourself contained. Take a quick read first.”

Mission brief: We require several digital assets and you are going to create them onto your employers systems. We know you can layer characters and stealth in hidden stories, arcs and features. That’s what you’ll do for the first three, listed in full below. The descriptions are broad and we expect you to exercise your artistic freedom to both avoid detection and to deliver a proper product. Failure is not an option and there is no payment. We will not install trackers or anything that can trace you to us, this message will self-destruct in one hour. You have met our assassin and they have shown you their formidable prowess. Do not fail.

“Once I agree, are you going to leave? Will I see you again?” Chase messaged, he wanted her so badly in spite of the obvious risk she was to him. She literally held his life in her hands.

“We can go somewhere tonight if you want. I feel terrible about fucking you over like this. I’m not going to show you a video of me killing people like they told me to, you already look upset enough that they believe you’ve already seen it. We’ll have to leave separately and meet up later. Book this hotel and I’ll meet you in the room.” She sent another address. “This really hasn’t gone how I planned it. It was meant to be a standover job, just threat but I’ve gone and gotten entangled. It’s not a pity fuck, I do like you too but, between you and me, I can see your boner through your clothes. Don’t laugh, serious face up and say the thing. “

“I agree to do this task” Chase said in the best dejected tone he could muster while containing his glee and lust.

“Good to see that you came to your senses, Sugar. Be seeing you, or not if you fuck us.” She stated bluntly, he’d communicated so much with her tonight but only heard her speak a dozen words. She stood up, kissed him on the head and then walked out with a sexy flick of her hips as she went. He hoped the act had worked. Chase’s mind was still spinning with the betrayal and setup. He was understanding that he’d come very close to death and now he was hopefully taking death to bed for another long night.

The hotel was a shitty old love hotel. This was the kind of place someone went to OD on heroin or to sleep with the cheapest of escorts. It hadn’t cost him much so far and it was at least clean enough that he wouldn’t get live if she didn’t show. That thought had been rolling over in his mind for the last couple of hours. Why was she still doing this? Did she actually like him? Was it really a pity fuck consolation prize for not getting murdered in an alley? None of this was making sense to him and all he really wanted right now was to be held by the same arms that would have been used to take him out if he’d refused. This was all insane. He took off his shoes and laid down on the bed, arms outstretched. A blur materialised and Sami was standing above him in black lingerie.

“How the fuck did you get in here? I didn’t hear anything and the door is still shut?” Chase was in awe both of her beauty, twisted mods, scars, tattoos and all. And of her prowess in sneaking into the room and almost standing on him before he even knew she was there. It made him realise how utterly fucked he was if she was ordered to kill him too, he’d never know. Which the more he thought about it was probably ideal. She would at least kill him without him knowing.

“Bathroom window, I know this place. I’m going to say one more sorry and then I’m going to stop apologising and enjoy myself. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself as well.” Sami almost growled. He knew how to act and this didn’t seem like an act. However they’d found themselves together they were here now and could enjoy this moment.

“What happened to your arm?”

“What, this? Nothing much. Hard day at the office and a stapler fell on me.” She lied. He wasn’t sure why she felt the need to but he wasn’t going to push it. He wanted to learn more about who she was. This was a dangerous game, that somehow made it even sexier. She was lying down next to him looking deep into him. He ran his fingers gently over the bandage.

“I don’t know why someone would hurt you. Hell, I don’t really know how someone could hurt you.”

“Oh, they can definitely hurt me. Can’t hurt to tell you after so many lies, I guess. I didn’t even notice at the time and I had to review my own recordings to figure out how it happened. Partly self-inflicted, I was trying to dodge a blade and nicked it on a rusty handrail. As I said, hard day at the office.” That smile came back and she brought her hands up onto his shoulders. “Can we change the subject to something far more enjoyable?” She kissed him. He felt his worries fall away replaced entirely with desire, to be touched, to touch, to love. Two very different people forgot about their responsibilities, worries and regrets for a few hours while they indulged in each other’s bodies. They let themselves just be two humans with base physical needs and briefly forgot all the shit they’d brought into the world and the damage they were probably going to do to each other. All that was put to one side while hormones raged and they let themselves be their entire worlds.