“So wait," I said.

  My gaze shot upward in frustration at the lack of progress I was having with the garment. For the third time, I'd somehow tied a knot into one side, but I felt like I was at least making progress with the data Rob was pounding into my thick skull.

  "Let me see if I'm finally getting this right. If I assume everything to be true and don't question where, when, and how this thing got installed..." I clutched the waistline to myself tightly as I tried for another attempt at untying the knot. "You're telling me there's an entirely different and separate, all-encompassing intra-data system like the corporations use within CorpTx, and it's also used for banking in The Glow?"

  The discovery was eye-opening. It had taken Rob a few moments, but as he continued to explain from the other side of the curtain while I fought to make order of the buckles and straps on the bastardization of a sheet he kept telling me were pants, Rob was able to let out a small sigh of satisfaction. I'd stopped arguing and was finally just trying to accept the information being given.

  “And some of the Borderlanes." He said. "Depending on where, they can access CorpTx too.”

  “Okay." I said, "So I'm consciously choosing to ignore my need to question where and how it's being powered, distributed, and located..."

  "Finally." Rob muttered under his breath.

  I chose to ignore him. "Then how can you tell which is which?”

  “Hmm." Rob said. "Good question. You'd usually need to connect and see if you've got no other information."

  I was intrigued. "What other information do you mean?"

  "Location, cardinal direction of the feedlines, whether or not they're in casings, or conduits...the list is considerable, but usually," He said, "Whatever side of the Lane Line you're standing in is the best indicator. If it's the Stacks, Corpo-Lanes, or anywhere near or inside the Spires? All the Lectrodes lead to CorpTx."

  That made a lot of sense. The tunnels and their feeds all hit substations connected to the Spire Grid. It was logical and efficient. It was familiar...and thus, easily controllable.

  Ah ha! Victory!

  I'd finally managed to untie the knot at the top portion of the belt line. The one giving me the most problems. Now clear, I fed the two waistline straps through the proper loops before tightening one down. I wanted to jump for joy when the pants tentatively remained on my waist.

  Progress!

  "So the two systems," I asked, "CorpTx and CorTex, how do they talk to each other?"

  “They don’t," he said as I worked to ratchet down the two over-designed tie downs on the sides of my hips. "They’re different systems entirely. Enough differences you can’t just plug one into the other and let them talk. If you ever do. All kinds of nastiness happen. It's like something in both systems doesn't want the other LiNC'ed; they're effectively locked into a feedback loop if they ever engage each other. Unpredictable. You'd have a better chance at trying to put a Schwertkaufe and Logos rep in the same room with a watching audience without them going conspiracy crazy on each other; it's like watching a shipwreck in motion once they get going at it."

  "You know that’s what people used to say about you," I said, trying to keep a straight face, "Right?”

  “I say shit like that because it throws people off.” He said, sounding like he was shaking his head, "And it's pronounced CORE-tex."

  "CORE?" I asked.

  "Yeah, CORE... As in, uh, a Cerebral Cortex, but spelled with an E." He spelled it out for me aloud like reciting a word for a spelling bee, "C. O. R. E. T. E. X. Coretex."

  "Oh!" I said. My eyes widened as I was finally able to make the connection. "CoreTex. Huh! That's why it sounded off before..."

  There was a zipping sound as I gave the waistlines a firm grip and pulled the left side to try to equal the right. A little too tight.

  "Before?" Rob asked, "Before when?"

  My fingers fumbled as I worked to loosen the buckle without being able to see, but I had to abandon the attempt after fumbling twice.

  "Back when I was trying to repeat what you were saying. You know. Earlier?"

  I put new effort toward reaching one of the rear hanging straps and missed. Trying again before futilely waving my arm around in hopes of lucking out and snagging it. Like a tiger trying to catch its own tail, the strap seemed to avoid me like it had a mind of its own. I sighed in resignation as I let my arms droop downward in defeat.

  "You know what? Doesn't matter." I said, quickly deciding the subject wasn't important enough to interrupt the actual discussion at hand as I abandoned my chase of the wayward strap. "So CoreTex and CorpTx. Do they work the same? I mean, as far as the user interface, design philosophies, overall functionality, and protocols are concerned?"

  “For all intents and purposes, yeah. The main issue might be a few differing sets of chain, or softcode, but you can usually adapt anything to work so long as you know which system you're basing them on."

  "So does that mean you can just LiNC into the Lectrode port in your..." I began before he stopped me.

  “Unfortunately not," Rob said, "They’re two physically different environments even if they use the same connectors and physical components." He moved closer to the curtain, and I could see the shadow of his head through the thin but opaque cloth, his voice gaining clarity as I mated two straps to the wrong fasteners, one off from the row they were supposed to match with, and grumbled in annoyance.

  "Look." He said. "First of all, you’re only ‘supposedly’ locked out of CorpTx. We don’t know yet because it was McCreed saying it, but I'm also not ruling it out till we confirm. Second? If...and that's a big if, we want to actually test?"

  I took a breath, preparing to say yes as he powered through so I wouldn't interrupt.

  "There isn't a silica's chance in Europa's gorgeous ass. I'd let you LiNC in from here, Price. They'd track us in a heartbeat, and I shouldn't need to tell you that's a total no-go for me. We're going to need to seek out a Lectrode Point separate from the one in my Pod. You forget LecSec 001?"

  "Ah...okay." I said. "That makes perfect sense." And I meant it. It was basic. So basic I'd easily forgotten in my excitement to try.

  "You finally decent?" He asked from the other side of the curtain. "You've been working at those buckles for quite a while, and I'm beginning to think you're just playing with yourself now.”

  I threw the towel over the top in a blind attempt to hit him but missed. He snorted as I pushed the curtain aside, jingling and clinking as I stepped forward. It felt like I was wearing ten sets of cowboy spurs on my way to a cyber-rodeo.

  It felt ridiculous.

  "You know this would probably be easier if you would just hand me something I could figure out."

  Rob’s eyes were mirthful as he tried not to laugh and failed, "Owen..." he said between deep chuckles, "This whole thing probably would've been easier if you hadn't tied so many of the straps into knots. What am I going to do with you?"

  My face reddened as I looked down and realized he was correct. I'd made a mess of everything.

  He didn’t provide further commentary as he gestured to one of the chairs at the table. I crossed and sat as he went to work with practiced hands. It seemed like watching something in a time skip as he unknotted, released, and unknotted yet another cluster of straps I'd bungled.

  My god, how many of these things WERE there?! I wondered, as I felt two of the straps brush my legs as he untied one of the final knots.

  “Step forward once,” Rob directed, and I did. Like a sailor managing the rigging of a sailboat, his fingers worked articulately as he loosened, tightened, secured, and fitted the various straps, buckles, and connections to my dimensions.

  As he moved onto the straps along the thighs, he continued correcting the maladjusted buckles I'd wrongly set as he spoke.

  “So here is the summary of why you're going to have a problem we need to figure out to get you out of the Stacks.” He said, working on refastening everything with practiced ease. Like magic, “voluminous blanket” started becoming “a pair of pants" before my very eyes. “This will be important, so pay attention. Authentication for Scrit still comes off the same chain and source to be cross-referenced by Corp-Ident to see if you’re even allowed to possess it.” He bent my left knee, making sure it could move freely before moving on to the other. “Scrit transactions are tracked against Corp-Idents to ensure singularity, and to also confirm they're not forged or paralleled.” He moved onto the straps around my ankles, ratcheting them closed and making sure I couldn’t trip on anything.

  “So does that mean the Borderlanes and The Glow have access to the same checks and tracking?” I asked.

  “Some of the territories do. That’s why it’s...complex. Each area has different rules, groups, and ethics on how and why they allow things to go on in their territories. It’d take too long to find you the right group, who I can guarantee wouldn’t just cut your throat for whatever you’ve got.” He moved onto another toggle. “Or because you were Corpo. Even a former Corpo, or Stack-Rat, is good enough for some people who want to hurt someone, anyone to do with the Big Three. It's not safe for the most part.”

  “Not really selling me on a vacation package there,” I said.

  “Good thing you’re not going on a vacation. You used up all your days anyway.” He quipped back. “Anyway. With all Scrit being tracked and traced by transaction, every registered business and supplier, especially if they’re on the Corpo Registers, then has to cross-reference against authentication lists to ensure you are who you say you are. I always found it ironic how a system designed to be decentralized became so centralized...it’s...uh. Not actually a conspiracy theory as much as I have to make you guys think.”

  “Is that where you tell me it's all run by Lizard People?” I said, smirking.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "I do say that a lot at the Port, don't I?” He said, grinning back as if remembering an old prank. Without his wandering eye, he appeared almost decades younger and far, far more confident in appearance despite already being a formidable force to be reckoned with.

  I pointed at his now perfectly operating implant as he looked me over, "Okay then. What's the thing with your eye?”

  He made a sound like a grinding Servocasing about to blow a bearing.

  “What ABOUT my eye?” he growled with a sense of impending danger. There was the familiar irritation I was used to. Despite my tone not being mocking or bluntly rude, he was always very defensive about anyone mentioning his right eye. I'd never quite worked up the courage to ask him about it past the one time he'd cracked a joke he'd lost it to a giggle of Hyenas. Whatever they were.

  Tonight? I was curious and no longer as fearful of making him mad. I just had to remind myself he hadn't shot me...yet.

  “Why do you let it, you know...” I said, and mimicked a whirring and clicking noise with my lips and tongue as I spun a finger around in a circle. Without his eye spinning in random directions, zipping around like a broken hummingbird, he didn’t seem quite as off-kilter. The change made me wonder why he kept up the pretense.

  “Why let it spin around randomly and record things while I’m walking around so nobody can tell I’m doing it?” He asked mischievously. I could hear the amusement clearly as I stopped myself from slapping my own forehead.

  Of course.

  Rob directed me to stand and turn with a twirling finger, so I did.

  The empty plate I'd left on the counter caught my eye as I rotated, and my stomach gave a pitiful gurgle in reply. The patty had been good, but I was still famished. The talk and putting on all the clothing was making me hungry.

  "Why do you have a need to throw people off? What's the purpose?" I asked, trying to ignore the pangs but failing somewhat.

  Rob paused, his hands no longer working. I heard him grunt once to himself before he finally decided on giving an answer.

  “Take the kooky guy with the wandering eye and imagine what he sounds like when he talks like he does. Now imagine after a while, they begin to take him less seriously. Enough that whatever he says becomes background noise, and once he starts to get ignored? The actual serious talks happen. Talks about needing to do 'necessary things,' and no one ever questions why he's always around. Even better? Nobody trusts he'll do those 'necessary things' correctly.”

  “...Oh. Man.” I said quietly. “Looks like that totally works.”

  "Indeed."

  His hands continued working as we settled into a comfortable silence. Much faster than I would’ve expected, the once-balloon-like pants became an almost sleek and aesthetically pleasing gathering of cloth, harness, and lines. I marveled at the fit. Between the under suit, the pants and softness of the shirt, the entire rig felt far better than any set of clothing I’d worn in recent memory. Before now, I likely would've never even tried them on.

  The rubbery feeling of the Corp uniforms tended to aim for the utilitarian. Cheap, relatively speaking, and confining. The current outfit, despite being a mind-boggling array of straps and buckles, felt less restrictive, more...free. It was a heady feeling and likely wouldn’t have been a word I would’ve normally used for clothing.

  Now said? It felt right as I reveled in the freedom of motion the Port uniform didn't possess.

  Rob produced a pair of boots and set them on the floor. They looked more designed for running and walking than for work as they hung open, like a cockpit waiting for a pilot to belt themselves in. "Good thing you're my size, if I remember correctly from the last time you had to borrow a pair after that little accident involving the barrel of machine lubricants..."

  I gave him a rude hand gesture in Port Sign, causing him to laugh as I stepped in, marveling as the straps auto-adjusted to fit snugly, but comfortably.

  He signaled for me to come closer as he did a quick spot check, mostly around my knees. “The end result, Owen? Wouldn’t matter. Inner or outer borders, for anything connected to Corp Boundaries, mean a majority of the Borderlanes, especially any parts dependent on Corpo Chain and Supply? Well…. You’d likely have issues procuring anything to survive: food, water, and power. It would suck, and suck bad.”

  He finished the final adjustment and slapped me on the shoulder to signal the work was done.

  “Give it a bend or two,” he said.

  I followed his instructions, and with a few test crouches and jumps, I was surprised how little noise issued forth. Instead of the squeaks and creaks of the Outeralls, I was practically silent as I hopped from foot to foot, my feet only lightly tapping instead of clomping around like a deck crawler. Once secured, the straps and buckles acted almost like connected parts of my body as I tested out my range of motion by moving, bending, and running in place.

  Versus an Outerall, the positioning and fitment of the harness felt much more personalized and comfortable with the added bonus benefit of straps that didn’t bite into sensitive places, unlike the industrial-styled rigid harness of the Outerall.

  I most specifically savored the lack of dank sweat pooling into the crook of my joints as I sighed in happiness. I could totally get used to this!

  Rob made me jump as he snapped his fingers in remembrance. I watched as he walked to the back of the Pod, pressing open a panel before pulling out a reddish-brown jacket. Returning, he positioned the arms of the jacket so I could slip my arms inside. It settled on me like a custom-fit suit of armor. While somewhat bulky and made of a synthetic material styled to look like real leather, if I had to guess what real leather would actually look like, it was lighter than anything I'd worn.

  Similar to the pants, there was an inner lining, which also felt great on my skin and reflected body heat almost immediately. The sensation of feeling a little too warm washed over me, and Rob clicked a number of connectors to the belt lines of the pants, which felt elastic, holding the jacket’s bottom closer to my waist. The combination formed what felt like a resisting seal against the rain and cold. As I began to sweat, it was obvious the system was doing a great job of keeping in the heat.

  Rob nodded his approval with a single head nod before taking a seat. I was ready.

  "So there's a big problem, Rob." I said, "When they locked me out, they locked up every ounce of Scrit I had."

  "That's fine, because once you're out, past the Borderlanes and safety in The Glow, you won't need Scrit. You'll need Chits."

  "Chits?"

  "Yeah. Jacket." He said, "Top right pocket. Should be a small coin there. A Platter store."

  I reached in and pulled out a dull silver disk about an inch in diameter. There was a single hole in the middle, like a washer, and the surface was scratched and tarnished, having been held and handled over an unknown number of years. Despite all this, there was text I could see with my interface, denoting it held five "Allotment Chits'. I had a sudden, powerful, but vague sensation of socketing one of these into a slot as a child at my mother's insistence. A series of emotions washed over me as I remembered the sudden excitement and joy of clutching a set of controls as my mother held me and the machine signaled I'd be allowed another life as the pixelated hero in a dark world plagued by monsters. The lights and sounds had made me feel happy. At least for a fleeting moment.

  "Why am I thinking about games right now?" I wondered aloud to no one as I turned the disc in the light.

  "That's because you probably played something needing one. Chits are usually just transferred as credits between people or groups within CoreTex, but nothing stops you from loading some onto Plat." Rob said, "But we're getting too deep into this before you've had a chance to fully understand."

  "How did they manage it? Assess its value. Use it?" I asked, but Rob remained silent on the subject, shaking his head in rejection to every question.

  Was I naive to assume The Glow would, and always had used CorpTx and Corpo-Scrit?

  My mind swam with possibilities of not just another system but an entirely different currency as I examined the small coin more closely. The five was hovering in digital font on both sides in an ink with a curiously familiar hint of iridescence. Between the ink and the visual overlay, the numbers popped off the surface.

  Pondering, I wasn't sure of any real opportunity in my past life, and it WAS my past life since I held no false sentiments I'd ever be able to go back, which could've disproved the notion they wouldn't.

  For one? Dora. She'd never mentioned, or even hinted at, there being a second COE in use. Without some sort of evidence of there ever being a second system, I could've never...

  I...

  Wow.

  "Rob," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I stretched my mind around yet another subject I hadn't thought about and stowed the Plat back into the jacket pocket. "Dora. How come she never told me any of this? She worked at InCorporeal. Isn't that in The Glow?"

  "Hmm." Rob said as a deep rumble within in his chest. "Almost, but not quite. Think of it as more of a thin part between where the Borderlanes begin and end. A gateway. I...can't tell you more, not until we talk about something else."

  I said nothing as he paused.

  "What can I tell you? Dora was likely as in the dark as you ever were. She wasn't from The Glow and never went TO The Glow as far as I know."

  Part of me felt relieved. Another part? Wondered how much I should trust someone who had--

  No. I heard the voice in my head. Stern and almost as clear as day. Stop thinking like that. Rob's been the ONLY one who's been telling you anything. You said you were ready to believe him, so believe.

  I sighed resignedly.

  Whatever might come? Rob's act of exposing the corporeality of the undisclosed implant modifications and his guidance in disabling it wasn't a small thing.

  He did it for me. He took me in when I'd needed a place.

  Even before, he'd always kept a side ear open for my daily complaints and rants.

  No. Rob was Rob. Even if he acted a little different, he seemed to be the only one willing to explain why and how things worked when everyone else was too busy telling and taking.

  He was the only one offering help, and...that was enough.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "No problem." He replied, "And keep the coin. Won't buy a ton, but might be enough if something happens and we get separated."

  The inquisitive side of my brain was poked into activity. Despite there only being a series of canals to separate our side of the Stacks with their borders, the mere concept of there being some sort of entirely separate registry was new to me but made logical sense once you took what was a very sizable population into account.

  The Glow was bright. Literally so.

  On a clear night I could often see the lights, numbering in the hundreds if not thousands, from across the way. If one were standing in the right spot? The sky could sometimes glow with an eerie beauty, enough where if you took all of the lights into account, there had to be...thousands, if not tens of thousands of individuals, all people.

  Living.

  Breathing.

  Dying.

  Huh.

  I tapped my chin absentmindedly with a finger.

  How could such a large population even hope to do things without swarming like Scrabs?

  I lost myself in staring back into the coin's face. Plat...Allotment Chits. All of it was now tugging on something in the back of an old memory. A string of sensations and feelings became more visible in my mind's eye as I stumbled on something I hadn't thought about in a long time...not without getting angry or distracted.

  Before the disabling of the deterrence protocols? It was difficult, if not impossible, to tell if I was led away from remembering something or just didn't want to.

  With those out of the way, I felt...different.

  A strange sensation was growing in the pit of my stomach.

  "Rob." I asked aloud. "What Ident do they use in The Glow?"

  He answered this one immediately. "CoreTex uses something called a 'CCN.'. A, ah...CORE Certification Number. Same prompt, different interfaces.”

  A memory triggered; I heard...my mother.

  The cadence of her voice enveloped me like a blanket as my mind twisted and spasmed. Memories lashed like wracking coughs, dredging up a number I could've recited in my sleep once the blockage had been cleared.

  Her voice had been a soothing but insistent susurration, "Don't ever forget it, and more importantly? Don't tell your father. Ever. Now repeat it back to me, Owen."

  My mouth recited the numbers as if ordered for what had felt like the hundredth time, "4-011-339."

  Rob went silent. Still as a statue, he looked at me in unexpected shock.

  It wasn't just any CCN.

  It was...MY...CCN.