The train station was nothing fancy. Old dated letters had fallen onto the single platform, but Elijah said it used to be called ‘Austin’. They were finally on the other side of the wall. Within the border of the Free City. As they waited on the platform for the train to arrive, Oto zoomed in on the neighborhood just before them. It was mostly residential. Old homes, centuries old, built nearly touching. They were probably the only buildings in the city to still have yards, though the grass was yellow or dead under the streetlights, the ones that still worked anyhow. To the east was the skyline. Ever growing and changing. Construction drones were buzzing near the top of unfinished towers. Ads built atop. The city blazing with light even with no moon in the night sky.

  “Lucas Frision?” Chatter asked as he leaned on a column. “Who was that?”

  “Some Mormon I knew in the Denver Compound.” Oto said. “He died from an overdose, so I ripped his ID just in case. Seemed to’ve worked.”

  “Seems so,” Chatter said as he bit a nail. “About that illegal mod. It’s nothing fancy. Just some talons.”

  Talons were long, robotic claws that extended from the user’s arms. Chatter would be able to climb over anything or kill anyone with them.” When’d you get ‘em? And why’d you keep it to yourself?”

  “Long ago. I was in Shenzhen. Beautiful place, not too far from where I was born. And I didn’t keep them from you, you just never asked. Never had a chance to use them around you.”

  “Guess that’s a good thing,” Oto popped his knuckles. “Where’s this train?”

  Oto and Chatter were lucky. They were shuttled to the train station. Others had to walk a few blocks from the gate. It was the nearest station to the wall that was open for civilians. Others had been decommissioned and dismantled. As they waited for the metro to arrive, the platform got busier. Oto didn’t like being surrounded by all these people. Surely some of them were able to sneak things into the city or bribe their way in just like Oto.

  Once the train glided over the tracks and opened its doors, a dozen people got off, but a hundred people got on. Those who stayed on had needles strewn about or sticking out of their arms. Oto held onto the rail above a junkie, nowhere else to go. Chatter stood beside him. The mod in his feet keeping him balanced no matter what. “Tamales?” An older woman asked with a bag full. “?Queso o pollo?

  “Dos pollos, por favor,” Chatter said and was drooling by the time he unwrapped the husk. “I’ve been starving all night. Those fucking cops didn’t help me at all. I could smell all the donuts in their break room,” he laughed. “You didn’t want any, right?”

  Oto waved a hand, “No. I’m focused on where we need to go and how we need to find our people.”

  “Focused?” Chatter said with a mouth full. “What’s there to think about? See him?” He motioned to the junkie sleeping in the chair, a child next to him wondering what was wrong. “He probably knows where to get zhiming. We find a prominent dealer and find the group. Raif said it would be simple. And it sounds pretty simple.”

  Oto’s eyes zoomed on the drug of choice. “Except he’s using heroin. Older stuff is harder to come by, but seems he found a lot of it. Doubt he uses the new stuff.”

  “We’re in the Free City. Drugs are abound here. It won’t take too long. Let’s just look for some Ukrainians shall we?”

  The driverless train whizzed through a trench. At every station the train got less and less full as people found their pockets of the city to call home. Commercial buildings were built all along the train line. Ads blinding from every window as if the sun were up. Apartments growing the distance. Some of them with balconies and small gardens, others were nothing more than a square box. Oto’s old apartment was in the center of a building. He didn’t even have windows. Announcements of the rules and laws in the Free City would come over the train intercom between the stations.

  Chatter kept buying tamales whenever the old woman would walk by. He was up to two dozen by the time the train dipped underground. The lights of the Loop overhead, but underground was quiet. The way Oto liked it. The only way to get out of the train station under the Loop was if you showed the cops some pass. The windows of the train turned to advertising the same products as above. New drinks, restaurants to try, movies and shows, virtual reality games, new and improved cars and hovercrafts and boats, the occasional piece of propaganda by the city mayor. Oto traced a Chinese character as the screen flickered. Some brand of milk tea he had never heard of before.

  When the train announced “Division”, Oto followed Chatter off the train. Chromed out fast cars raced down the street. Hovercrafts landed atop the towering apartments to let the passengers off in their penthouses. The bike lanes covered in trash. The sidewalks not much better. The city stopped caring long ago to clean the streets. Racers would push whatever they could out of the road. That didn’t sop them from hitting whole bags of trash and causing it to snow shit and piss. Junkies and stragglers and those who needed to get to work didn’t care what the sidewalk looked like though. And even in the middle of the night it was still crowded.

  “Just down this street,” Chatter was looking at a map on the screen in his wrist. “We’ll need a spot to rest too. I’ve found a few hotels. Basements are cheap.”

  Simulated squawking of a bird came out of a pet shop across the street. “Preferably away from the station,” Oto said.

  “Wanna buy some storage,” a young, lean guy said. “You can get for cheap from me. I’m the best in the biz. Enough to be high in the clouds,” he said in a singsong voice.

  Oto and Chatter ignored him, they ignored everyone who tried to sell them something, except Chatter had to try a dumpling filled with maafe, Oto decided it was best he ate too. They ate in a West African-Chinese fusion restaurant. He used chopsticks to eat jollof rice out of a plastic to-go container, spicy and burning, but he loved it.

  The window to see outside was used as a television screen. After erection pill and anti-abortion ads finished the news decided to play an encore of an earlier broadcast. Talking heads in different places around the continent. All with earphones. One of the news anchors didn’t practice where to look for her camera. Her eyes were just to the top as her teleprompter and notes played in her eyes. “The hospital was mostly evacuated before the bomb went off in Sarasota. But thirteen people were killed, mostly doctors and nurses. The attack was claimed by the Christo-Liberation Movement of Southern Florida …”

  The anchor kept talking about the bomb but Oto tuned her out. As he ate his rice he wondered what the news would say about their plan. Their bomb. The United States had been wracked with bombing campaigns and shootouts for decades a this point. Small groups all vying for power or freedom or whatever. “You think our bomb is for the Christo-Liberation Movement?”

  Chatter scoffed and choked down his dumpling. Police sirens whizzed past the restaurant. “Raif said it was a higher up who wanted it done. Someone in the Free City. Makes sense, don’t it? The Mackinaw Blockade has been going on for years. Chicago is finally feeling it. Could be a corp or city hall or even some rich schmuck who wants to make more money by bringing the port back into service.” Chatter shrugged like nothing mattered. “As long as I get paid.”

  “What if it’s Bushland?” Oto asked after catching a glimpse of a Bushland ad on the window. “Would you be okay with it?”

  Chatter didn’t shrug this time. He drank his moon tea and licked his lips. “Guess we’ll find out. Bushland ain’t even the worst corp out there. Hundreds or thousands do things the Bushland mercs wouldn’t ever dream of.”

  “I know,” Oto said and knocked on the metal plates under his chest. “Hulianwang doesn’t let me forget, does it?”

  Chatter brushed his black hair from his eyes and pointed to the bar. “See her?” Oto glanced and saw a woman plugged into the net. Her eyes were clouded over, a cable sticking from her arm to a console in the bar. Her tab running up on the side every minute. So far she was at $336. 336 minutes of playtime. Instead of an addiction to heroin or crack or zhiming she was addicted to the net. “Poor soul lost in the sauce. Maybe she can point us to a dealer.”

  “We can’t unplug her and we don’t have enough time to wait for her high to run it’s course.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Just tell the shop owner she can’t pay and see how quickly he crashes her out.”

  Oto had another bite of rice, his tongue tingling from the spice. “That could kill her. Not much use to us dead. The amount of junkies around here and we’re bound to find a dealer who knows our contacts. It won’t be hard.”

  “Mǎi dān,” Chatter raised his hand and called out to the shop owner who was also the only waiter. They began to converse in Cantonese. “Thank you for the very delicious food,” he started as he transferred the money to the owner. “I did want to warn you though, that girl, the junkie, she doesn’t have enough to pay you.”

  “And how would you know?” The owner asked.

  “Old friend of ours,” Chatter said nonchalantly, “she’s probably been kicked out of a dozen or more shops along this street, you were the first to allow her to plug in. Girl’s broke. Spends anything she can on surfing. You know how junkies are.”

  Oto shook his head but didn’t complain. Chatter was going to do what Chatter was going to do. Oto was just in for the ride. The owner’s face grew red with anger and he stomped over to the bar, gripped the thin cord, and yanked it free from the console. The woman’s eyes came back to a striking blue, she shivered, screamed, and fell from the bar stool. As she withered in pain the owner grabbed the receipt and shoved it in her face. “Can you pay?” He kicked her. “Can you pay?”

  Her eyes were leaking as she uttered the word, “no.”

  Chatter gave a look that said, “told ya,” before standing. The owner was kicking and hitting the poor girl. “Whoa, whoa,” Chatter said. “Enough of this, didn’t wanna make a scene.”

  “She can’t pay,” the owner said. “I’ll call the police and get this settled.”

  “I don’t think the police will like the illegal ports you have,” Oto said as turned around in his chair, one arm over the back. “No need to involve them.”

  “Now you threaten me?” The shop owner’s mouth dropped. “What is going on here?”

  “I’ll pay for the girl,” Chatter said. “$336, yes?”

  “$337!”

  “Fine,” Chatter typed into his wrist and swiped to send money. The shop owner’s terminal pinged and the transfer was complete.

  “Now all of you get out!”

  Chatter and Oto grabbed the woman by the arms and helped her out the door. Now an ambulance flew past, the sirens dopplering. “Whatyda …” the girl stumbled over the sidewalk. “Whatyda want?”

  “We’re in the biz to find some zhiming,” Chatter whispered. “Know where to get it? Preferably around these parts?”

  “Fuck you,” she said. Chatter let go and she twisted into Oto’s arms. If Oto had let go she would’ve fallen into the street and crushed under a supercar that blew through the light. “First I get crashed and now … now you wanna … fuck you!”

  “Told you it’d be harder,” Oto said with a smirk. “What’s your name?”

  “Fuck,” the woman started to stand up straight, though her eyes were glossy, “you.”

  “That’s not a name. Mine’s Trevor.” Oto said. “Name?”

  “Vanessa. Whatsittoya?”

  “Wanna find some zhiming, then we’ll let you go.”

  “I don’t deal with junkies.”

  Chatter laughed. “Then what the fuck does that make you?”

  “Look,” Oto said before Vanessa had a chance to argue back, “my friend here just did you a favor. That shop owner wanted to involve the cops. Know what the FCCPD does to junkies causing issues? They put them to work in the factories for Bushland. But I’m just guessing you’re too pretty for that. Prolly rape you first, maybe send you to a brothel if you’re good enough. But my friend paid off your debt. You’re a free woman.”

  Vanessa chewed her lip and scratched at the port on her arm. “You didn’t hear it from me though.” Oto and Chatter both nodded. “Go past the hospital, take a turn south on Western. You’ll find an old theater with new apartments built behind it. Go to the penthouse. Say Mimi sent you.”

  “Lying?” Chatter raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ll walk with ya to Western and show the building myself. How’s that?”

  “Seems like money well spent,” Chatter laughed.

  As they continued down Division Street, Chatter got out in front, blocking those trying to make a buck. Oto fell in beside Vanessa. She had short, purple hair, that just went past her ears. Oto couldn’t make out any bodmods. Though she probably couldn’t see his either. “How long you been surfing?” He asked her as they stepped over a man sleeping on the sidewalk.

  “My whole life. It’s a much nicer world in there than the one we got.” She motioned to the flashing screens and trash and skyscrapers behind them. “In there I can do whatever,” she said as she twitched.

  “Not good to be in there long term. I had a friend, Eddie, he surfed for two weeks straight. Said there was nothing out here for him.” Oto scratched the stubble on his chin as a an old motorcycle model blew past. “I found him dead. Surfing can’t be that good.”

  “Thanks for the PSA,” Vanessa scoffed. “I’ve heard it before and I’m sure I’ll hear it again. Until this changes than I’ve no reason to not surf. Better than that zhiming you’re trying to find anyway.”

  “Guess so,” Oto nodded. “You born here?”

  “Twenty years ago in a tower just over that way,” Vanessa pointed north. Windowless and cramped with eight people, but that’s what happens when the penthouses are rented all to rich fucks. You?”

  “Denver Compound. On the streets of downtown.” Oto thought back to all the diseases and crime that ran rampant in his neighborhood. All the hovercrafts and sky bridges above them, never stepping foot in the ground to see the grime. “Kinda like this place.”

  “Go to the Loop and you’ll see how different it can be.” Vanessa looked back to the towering buildings beyond the river. All the colors and dancing lights. Police hovercrafts circling the area. No doubt more cops on the ground. The Bushland Tower, the new tallest building in the city, dwarfed everything and everyone in the ads that ran the length of the building. Ads for bioengineering and biochemicals. New mods that let you change your face shape and color, ones that allowed you to pick the best breast or penis size, even a mod that allowed you to decide how beautiful to make your unborn child. Stuff only the rich could afford. “When they blew the bridges it became a wealthy safe haven,” Vanessa continued. “Serious lack of crime over there. At least, the type of crime we deal with.”

  An ambulance swerved into the ER dock and doctors and nurses rushed out, past the junkies on the sidewalk and the tents that collected trash while someone slept. A trash can had a fire nearby. The yellow light cascading over the ER entrance where the lights flickered. A man missing a leg was pulled inside, the leg coming after.

  “Noha Hunters MO. They love cutting a leg off when you forget to pay them for protection.” Vanessa shook her head and continued when Oto gave a puzzled look. “Some Ukrainian gang. Funny,” she snorted, “Ukrainian Village used to not have any Ukrainians left, then the war happened and I guess they liked the area. Can get some borscht up the way even.”

  Chatter cleared his throat as he leaned on a broken light pole along Western. The white lines of the crosswalk were faded, the street and the walls of the buildings covered in graffiti. Flags of Ukraine and the new Free City of Chicago were made with holographic paint. Seemingly waving in the nonexistent wind. Both of the images were sprayed with a black X.

  “That the one?” Chatter asked. He pointed to a small theater. The windows busted out and people, young and old, hanging about and smoking whatever, laughing and cursing. The building behind it was newer. Glass all the way to the sky. Only a few other towers reached the same height in this part of the city. A naked woman was advertising a new cream soda. The people below seemed to enjoy that.

  Vanessa nodded. “Ask for Mimi then penthouse. One problem …”

  “Great,” Oto rolled his eyes.

  “… the dealer likes the sun to be up, or so I’ve been told. Guess he likes his sleep.”

  “They have drugs for that,” Chatter sighed. “We’ll need to find a hotel then. Know any cheap ones?”

  “Yeah, my place,” Vanessa pointed the opposite end of the tower, to the north down the street. “Cheapest you’ll find that doesn’t come with the constant threat of robbery or death.”

  “We’re supposed to trust you now?” Chatter asked, reaching into a pocket to find an e-cig. “Sorry, I like you all, hell, Chatter gets along with everyone,” he took a hit of nicotine, “but we just met you. Surfing.”

  She held her hands up and said, “Fine, enjoy waling up with nothing on, that is, if they don’t rip out your bodmods and leave you dead.”

  Oto looked at the smoking Chatter who glanced at him. They had a whole conversation with just their eyes. “We’ll go,” Oto finally said. “Show us the way.”

  Vanessa’s apartment was nothing fancy. An old townhouse split into three levels. She was on the top. Lucky to have a bathroom and a mattress. She even had a couch. Some old polyester thing, ripped at the edges. A heatwave sat in the corner. Vintage model from before the war. New and improved microwave, but strong enough to heat anything in less than a minute.

  “Weren’t those discontinued?” Chatter pointed to the heatwave.

  Oto nodded. “Something about the radiation. Guess we’ll find out when we wake up with an extra limb.”

  Vanessa was fluffing the couch. Dust catching the purple light from outside a half boarded window. A mouse tittered in the other side of the room. “I don’t have an extra limb yet,” she smiled. “Now, my girlfriend won’t be in til morning, and I have a date for the rest if the night. So it will just be you two if that’s alright.”

  “Surfing date?” Oto asked and Vanessa shrugged but he knew the answer. “It will be fine so long as your girlfriend doesn’t freak when she finds us.”

  “I’ll be back before her, fill her in on all the deets.” Vanessa blew them a kiss and left her apartment to two strangers.

  “Nice girl,” Chatter said as he fell back onto the couch, coughing as dirt and dust entered his lungs. “Remind me … to get a lung … lung recycling mod one of these days,” he waved a hand to scatter the dust. “Think she’ll bring a bunch of goons to fuck us up?”

  Oto shook his head as he sat on the arm of the couch to massage his legs from walking all day. “She seems ultra to me. Plus, we have guns, she doesn’t. Though she did say something about the Noha Hunters. They at least have sharp knives,” he said and shivered from the man’s missing leg. The bloodied bandage. “You think this dealer will really point us in the right direction? Whole fucking city uses. Be like finding a needle in a … landfill.”

  “Not sure if you walked the same streets as me, but there are literally a million needles out there.” Chatter sunk into the couch and closed his eyes. “Raif said she might send us more info. Maybe it’s best we wait …” He fell asleep as he said the last words.

  Oto went beside him. The couch hugging his body. His lower half was sore, the metal, chrome, and plastic top half was fine. He thought back to Elijah. Half man, half machine. At least Oto’s metal was below his skin. To everyone else he looked 100% real. Elijah seemed almost monster. Oto dreamt of an explosion. Burns. Screams. Death.