“Who in the fuck are you?” A women’s voice woke them. “Get the fuck out of my zone!” She was carrying a kitchen knife. Dull. She stood in the doorway a few meters from Oto, the pistol on his hip itching for excitement.

  “Relax,” Chatter said as he woke up. “You must be the girlfriend. Name’s Chatter, this is Oto. We’re just hitching at your place for the night, no biggie.”

  “No biggie?” She scoffed, the knife in her hand reflecting the artificial lights from the heatwave and the clock. The blackout curtains keeping the sun out. “I come home to find two strange men in my room and it’s not a big deal? Fucking out of your mind.” She took a step closer. In one swift motion Oto unlocked his gun from the holster and held his finger over the trigger while aiming at the woman’s brown face and hair.

  “Drop the knife,” he said from the couch.

  “Let’s not get hasty,” Chatter said as he stood with his arms up. “This doesn’t need to get bloody. Vanessa said she would be here but I guess she lied.”

  “What’d you do to her?” She was the gripping the knife so hard Oto could see her hand shaking.

  “Open,” Vanessa’s voice came from the door and the blackout curtains rolled apart. The sun piercing. Oto blocked his eyes for a minute, not good when a gun was in your hand and a lady held a knife. “It’s alright Skye,” she came behind her girlfriend and took the knife. “Sorry,” Vanessa giggled, “got busy.”

  Skye rubbed his fingers on Vanessa’s dark eyes. “Out surfing again?” She sighed. “Babe, I thought you said you weren’t going to do that anymore, find a job, move out of this dump.”

  Vanessa shook Skye off of her. “One time thing,” she lied, then must’ve noticed a fresh scar on Skye’s cheek the moment Oto did. “They back to beating you?”

  Skye found a polyester bag and emptied out food. “Don’t worry about it. Part of the job. I brought you some bread from what I was paid last night. Good score.”

  Vanessa’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the milk bread and tore it in half. It was the size of her fist. “This is real?” She tasted it and looked like she was high again. “I missed the taste. Synthbread just ain’t the same.”

  Chatter cleared his throat as he looked out the window. Oto stood to join him. The morning sun illuminated the heaps of trash and strewn out people. The glass of the apartment tower glistened like glitter. A hoverpad stuck out from the very top, and some yacht looking hovercraft was parked. “Not to intrude,” Chatter said. “But we only needed to stay the night. Now we need to score some zhiming.”

  Skye shook her head. “Zhiming? Seriously? You brought junkies into our home?”

  “They helped me so I returned the favor. Remembered the deets from when Richie was using.”

  “Yeah Richie, the one we found in a ditch,” Skye rubbed her hands through her long brown hair. “You know how to pick them don’t you.”

  “One minute,” Chatter held up a finger, “a Montana number is calling. I’ll take it on silent.” His eyes flashed and he stood as still as a statue. His mouth never moving, but somewhere in his mind he was having a whole conversation.

  “Our boss probably,” Oto said. “Well not our boss but …” he didn’t know how to explain Raif. She found contracts and sent them out to fulfill them, but she also did her fair share of fieldwork. “Who’s beating you, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  Skye tore a small piece of bread and gave it to Oto. It dissolved so sweet in his mouth. “I’m a toy, work in the brothel up the road some ways.”

  “I thought guys just plugged in and did it all virtually now. At least that’s what the bars had in Denver. A bunch of poor fucks wasting too much of their time to simulate an orgasm.”

  “Most still do that,” Skye pulled out a barstool and plopped on it. “But they like to have a place to put their dick too, or take out their frustration, whatever,” she shrugged, “moneys money.”

  “But they beat you?” Oto leaned on the small kitchen table that protruded from the wall. Barely big enough for two.

  “You can’t save the world,” Vanessa said. “And Skye’s too stubborn to listen or leave. If I had it my way she’d’ve left a long ass time ago.”

  “If you had it your way we’d be in a bar surfing a console and doing God knows what in there. Sleeping on the streets.” Skye clenched her jaw. Vanessa slowly nodded like it was a regular argument between them. “Sorry,” Skye held Vanessa’s hand, “it’s a job though, gets us food, and if I have to take a couple beatings every now and again so what. This,” she touched the scar, “isn’t even the worst of it, you know that.”

  Chatter cleared his throat again as the call was over. Oto pushed himself off the table, letting the warm light of the sun wash over him. “Well?”

  “It was Raif,” Chatter types some info into his wrist. “Our contact goes by the name of the Pink Cook,” he shrugged and rubbed his temples. “No idea what the fuck that means, but it was all she knew. Is gonna do some more digging to help us out, but looks like we still need to score some zhiming.”

  “Pink Cook?” Skye laughed. “You’re going to meet the secretive leader of the Westside Chefs? Good luck.”

  Vanessa blinked and gave a very half-cocked reassuring smile. “Just a street gang. Just don’t mess with their business and you’ll be ultra.”

  “Why don’t we go score some zhiming so we can figure out what Raif got us into.” Oto said as he made his way toward the door. “Thanks,” he said to Vanessa and gave a nod to Skye, “for letting us stay. If you need anything just reach out.”

  “Be safe,” Vanessa saluted with her fingers.

  Chatter and Oto made their way to the street. It was a quiet residential neighborhood. The homes only a few stories. The major towers of the main street cast shadows on them. An artificial tree was losing its holographic leaves as fall was setting in. Any grass that used to be was covered in new homes or tents or small vendor stalls. They pushed past it and made their way to Western.

  “‘If you need anything just reach out,’” Chatter mocked. “Since when have you ever wanted to help strangers?”

  “They seemed nice,” he shrugged, “just slam on their luck.”

  “And what about him?” Chatter pointed to a man on a sleeping under an old bus stop shelter, he was using extra clothes as blankets. Whatever bench was there had been ripped up long ago it seemed.

  “I’d help him too if I could.”

  Chatter laughed. “Can’t save everyone, man. Worlds fucked. Some are going to be more fucked than others.”

  “You sound like a corp now.”

  “We’ve tried,” he gave sad eyes as he shrugged, “got us nowhere. Boise is still home to those white supremacist fucks, Fresno had those weird cult people, and the Free City is still a corporatist hellhole. Nothing we can do.”

  “We haven’t tried here yet. Maybe the Free City can finally be free.” The theater was only a few blocks away now. Graffiti was being cleaned from a new shiny building that had enough corp security to sack a city. The graffiti said NO MASTERS. “Obviously some people are fed up.”

  Chatter pushed away a young girl pretending to sell real chocolate. “Pretty sure the only revolutionary government in the whole of the old states is St. Louis. None of the others survived. And St. Louis is being starved out by the corps and the US. Won’t last long.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Oto waved his hand to get Chatter to shut up. He wasn’t trying to save the world, just help some new friends. That’s what he told himself at least. After smelling some delicious faux-eggs they found themselves in the apartment lobby. It was a long thin hall with a screen where the usual front desk would be. The lobby was carved out of dark wood, all just fake tile, but it still felt like walking into a forest. The dark colors of the inside, the blood red carpet and low lighting, didn’t match the glass exterior at all.

  “Welcome to the Kiev Apartment Block,” the face of a Ukrainian woman popped onto the screen, she was as AI as they came, her movements robotic, uncanny. “You do not seem to be in the system as a resident. How may I be of assistance? Would you like a tour?”

  Chatter blinked and scratched his neck, “so …” he looked to Oto, “do we ask for Mimi here?”

  “Mimi?” The voice said in her Ukrainian accent. “I will page the penthouse this moment and services will be provided.” The screen blinked and the AI face was gone. Now just the black reflection of Oto and Chatter stared back at them.

  As Oto said, “That was easy,” the door to the street made a tick and the electronic lock deadbolted the door. The elevator whizzed. The lights got brighter like the sun was coming up. “Or we’re about to be turned into the FCCPD.”

  And just like that two large men armed with assault rifles stepped out of the elevator. “Looking for Mimi?” A bald one said in a deep voice. “Follow us.”

  Oto and Chatter didn’t have much of a choice. The door was locked and the men held their guns at their hips. Oto’s pistol didn’t stand a chance against them, even with aim assist turned on. “After you,” Chatter gave a mock bow to Oto who entered the elevator. The glass behind them was tinted, so the ally looked like night.

  Once the four were inside, the goon with blue spiked hair said, “731568,” to the elevator and it jerked and climbed. The tint on the glass gave way as they ascended. The apartment tower was tall, but the buildings in the Loop made it seem like Vanessa’s humble home. Various symbols of the different corps were lit by the sun that climbed over the lake. Penthouses that stretched between four different buildings, all connected by a skyway a thousand meters up. There were pools. Clubs. Smoke lounges. They all looked down on the city that built their foundations. Hovercrafts snaked through the glass behemoths. A rocket was going to space in the distant horizon. Probably took off from the Detroit/Wayne County Spaceport.

  “So,” Chatter rocked on his heels, “do you work for this Mimi?”

  “Something like that,” the bald one said. “Little early to use don’t you think?”

  The blue haired man rolled his eyes. “Why you always make conversation with junkies? They probably don’t even know what time it is.”

  The elevator slowed to a halt, Oto had forgotten they were even moving, it was nothing like the dingy elevators in the Denver Compound he was used to that shook the entire time. The doors opened and the goons pushed Oto and Chatter off. They were in a small hall, paintings hung on white walls. A silver door was at the end of the hall. “One moment,” the bald one said and disappeared though the door.

  “We’re not junkies,” Chatter said.

  The blue haired goon laughed. “That’s what they all say. Then I see them in a few months with no teeth and skinny as hell, if I don’t catch a glimpse of them on the news from robbing a bank or being found murdered in some back site.”

  A red laser bathed them in light then the silver door slid open. The bald man was behind a shorter guy. He wore a blue suit that made his white skin even paler. “Now how the fuck did you two slip into the Free City with guns?” The man said as he rested his arms on his hips. “I must say I’m impressed. I saw the files the FCCPD had on you. Illegal mods, the pistols, an explosive. How the hell did they let you through?”

  “Persuasion.” Chatter smiled.

  “Let ‘em through,” the man said to his guards and beckoned for Oto and Chatter to follow. His right leg made a thumping noise with every step, either as metal foot or the entire leg. “Name’s Arno by the way. Welcome to my home.” He raised his arms to show it off.

  Nothing could’ve prepared Oto for this penthouse. It was three stories tall, giant steps of marble took you to the top. A skylight let the rays in but also showed images of birds and insects that have long been extinct. There was a doorway that a few butlers and maids used, inside Oto could see a kitchen with top of the line stoves, all induction, four or more ovens a piece. Real eggs and bacon were being scraped into the trash. Arno took them over to the windows overlooking thew balcony. A pool hung over the edge of the building. Glass letting you see all the way to the street. His view was of the fortified Loop and the lake beyond. You could see the entirety of the Free City. The bombed out Northside, the walled off Southside, the new highways and train lines that brought cars and trucks over the dirty streets and sidewalks into the Loop. The beacon of Chicago. The Bushland Tower stared back at them.

  “Arno,” female voices said from the stairs. Three naked women stood touching each other. “Back to bed,” they said at the same time.”

  “I’m with company, now shoo,” he waved, “but be prepared for later,” he winked and the women giggled at the same time. “My girls don’t need to know my business. They’re programmed to always want me, can’t go a day without fucking each of them,” he laughed as he fell into a large velvet couch. Oto’s optic zoom could see the faded stains of some bodily fluids. “So? Asking for Mimi.”

  “We want to talk with her.”

  Arno cracked his knuckles. “I’m Mimi, actually, what I sell is Mimi. So who told you about me? I’m a very high class establishment. Some junkie down there,” he pointed to the street as best he could, “wouldn’t know about me.”

  “Some surfer we ran into,” Chatter answered. Oto didn’t want to give this Arno any ammunition to go after Vanessa, but Chatter probably didn’t care. “We told her we wanted zhiming. What we really want,” Chatter sat in a plush chair, “is for you to put us in contact with someone.”

  “I only deal in drugs,” Arno clasped his hands, “not information. Unless you’re really to pay double my usual score.”

  “I paid an officer to get in here, I think I can pay you.”

  “Zhiming goes on the market at $20 a gram.”

  “You expect us to believe that?” Oto snorted. “If it’s so expensive then how is every junkie on the street using that stuff?”

  “Resellers,” he shrugged. “They mix it with some shit they fish out of Michigan and sell it to them for cheap. Why do you think so many die from it. Zhiming don’t kill, it enhances. If I killed my users then I’d be out of users.”

  “We’ll start at a thousand,” Oto said before Chatter could offer up more. “See how much you know before paying for more.”

  Arno waved his arms around. “That’s nothing. Won’t even buy me a new mod for my ear to hear anything up to fifty feet away. And you expect me to spill info to you? I don’t need your money.”

  “We just want the Pink Cook.” Chatter said. “Tell us where to find them, we’ll pay, be out of your hair like that,” he snapped.

  Arno bit his cheek and looked around the penthouse in thought. “Yeah, I know her, doubt she wants to know you though. Used to lead the Westside Chefs, fell through though, some botched mission and a lot of dead gangsters. Heard she’s trying to make a name for herself in the Northside now.”

  “So we just have to get to the Northside.” Chatter shook his head. “We were told Ukrainian Village.”

  “Guess you were told wrong.” Arno brushed his face with a hand.

  “Where in the Northside?” Oto asked. He didn’t want to talk to this man any longer. The armed goons made him nervous, the wealth made him terrified.

  “Near North,” Arno laughed, “thought I was going to send you to the bombed zone? Nah, I like you two too much. That’s in the walled off area, but you won’t be able to get in without passes, especially looking the way you do. Luckily for you I can throw those in for a few more dollars. Get you a hovercraft ride and everything. I got major dealings in the Loop.”

  “If you like the Loop so much, why are you out here?” Chatter asked.

  “Some things out here aren’t technically legal in the walled off portion of the Loop,” Arno leaned forward. “I can get you some of that stuff too.”

  “Just pay the man.” Oto said.

  “Wait,” Arno put up a hand before Chatter could type on his wrist. “I’m feeling generous today, no need to pay me a dime.”

  Chatter’s eyes grew wide as he looked at Oto then said, “That’s very kind—”

  “—No,” Oto interrupted. “How much do you want?” Arno said nothing as he smirked. Oto new what was happening, if the man didn’t take money then he would ask for something else. “I don’t want to owe you favors.”

  Arno clenched a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Ouch. And what did I do to deserve that? But you’re smart,” he smiled. “It’s merely a small favor. I’ll call you later and send the deets, need to make sure of something first.”

  Oto clenched his jaw. The goons came from behind and nodded toward the silver door, that’s when Oto saw a logo of an L through the counters of a B, glowing red, on the back of the door. “You’re part of Bushland?” He asked the young man before the goons forced them out.

  “Glad to see the company has a large reach. Someone from the Denver Compound knows about us.” He walked over to a glass table and had a robotic arm dispense some whiskey and ice. “My father is Gordon Hache. CEO of the Bushland Corporation. You didn’t wonder how I could afford all this,” he said with a smile as he sipped his whiskey.

  “How’d you know about Denver?” Oto asked. He could feel his cheeks growing red from either anger or embarrassment.

  “I know everything about you,” Arno kept sipping his liquor. “I know about the false name given to the cops. The fingerprint remover mod you have, not many ‘law-abiding’ citizens use those. Or how ‘bout the talons in this one,” he pointed to Chatter, “or the future bomb he’s carrying.” Arno set his whiskey down, a robot coming to clean the glass, and took a large step toward Oto. His hands were in his pockets like intimidation was just another day for him. Oto could smell his earthy breath. “So you will do the favor I ask of you, or I’ll have to run this up the chain, maybe to the governor, maybe even to some Bushland mercs. We don’t want that.”

  “No we don’t,” Chatter tried to get between them. “I’m assuming you swiped our numbers too?” Arno nodded. “Then call us when you’re ready and we’ll be sure to help out. Let’s jet, Oto.”