Left in a limo, returned on foot with a swollen and bruised face. The Polizei bots at the Checkpoint didn’t even raise their mechanical heads as I passed, as if their level of regard for me was equivalent with my current bank balance.
I scanned my barcode and crawled into my claustrophobic living space, cranking up the dial to full fluorescence.
Okay, now where to plug in this phone? I need to be ready for Mrs. Rossignol’s call.
I searched high and low, combing every millimeter of floor, wall, and ceiling of my cramped rectangular unit. There was not a single discernable jack or port of any kind in which to plug the phone cord.
Why am I not fragging surprised?
I sighed, setting the useless device down besides my limp sleeping pallet. I opened my menu and was surprised to see that it looked different than before. The arrangement of menus and nested submenus had subtly changed.
AVATAR
- DESIGNATION
- COSMETICS
- MODS
- STATUS
STATISTICS
- ATTACK
- DEFENSE
- ABILITY
- MOVEMENT
- PROCESSING
SKILLS
EQUIPMENT
- WEAPONS
- ARMOR
- ACCESSORIES
INVENTORY
- CARDS
- FRAGMENTS
- CONSUMABLES
- MATERIALS
- MISCELLANEOUS
ECONOMY
- CRYPT
- CRYSTALS
MEMORY
- STORAGE
- SCHEMAS
- HISTORY
TASKS
- ACTIVE
- COMPLETE
>SUBROUTINES
For starters, the first menu was now called Avatar–you know, my True Self(?). Status, which had been a standalone section, was now a submenu under Avatar. And Tasks now had Active and Complete submenus, with my hacked >Subroutines slipping in right behind.
I opened up the Avatar submenus and discovered another change.
AVATAR
- DESIGNATION
- VOLUNTEER ID
-
- 01001110 01101111 01100010 01101111 01100100 01111001
- ALIASES
-
- MAGPIE
- COSMETICS
- WAVY ASYMMETRICAL CROP (hair)
- ALMOND (skin tone)
- +2 INCHES (height)
- CHISELED JAWLINE (face)
- CONTRALTO (voice)
- PROMOTIONAL T-SHIRT (equipped)
- HOSTILE TAKEOVER SUIT (unequipped)
- MODS
- NEURAL-INTERFACE AXIS PORT
-
- B3-9S7-C10K CHIP (10,000 Crypt storage)
- OCULAR PORT
-
- B1-N0C-PRCPT-I 1 (+20 Perception / 4x zoom)
- ROUND TABLE SMART INK
-
- 5% ARMORY DISCOUNT
- STATUS
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- FINANCIAL DELINQUENCY
My purely cosmetic clothing items were no longer listed under Equipment / Armor, but were now alongside the rest of my cosmetic changes. Interesting. And sensible. I suppose with the cycle change, and the population explosion, a new patch had been installed into The Collective. This more efficient reorganization on the Volunteer menu system was a tiny QOL upgrade within whatever larger charges had occurred.
But bog dram! Did they have to tag me as being financially delinquent? Can’t a bounty hunter catch a break? I thought they only put things like ‘Infernal Burn’ and ‘Digital Syphilis’ under Status! Seeing that mark of shame branded in my menu jacked up my anxiety, so I quickly minimized it.
Next, I stashed my Kappa data card fragments and Apotropaic Charm in my Storage Cube for safe keeping. But I held onto my Voynich Manuscript page. That was my one and only bargaining chip right now. The only real thing of value in my possession. And I kept my coco de mer nut because, well, it was just 1 metabyte anyway.
Now my storage cube was at 31/100 storage and I freed up 14 metabytes of personal space, considering my soft cap. Looking at my storage cube sitting in the corner made me think of Camel, my erstwhile ally. His place was the first I had seen cubes like that.
You know what? Why not try to go by his place again? I’ve been looking for him all over with no success. It can’t hurt to try.
I didn’t think I could get to his floor using an elevator, as scanning your code just took you to your assigned floor and back down. But maybe there was another way. If I recalled correctly, he was only a few floors beneath me. Every residence had the Volunteer ID etched above the entrance. What was his again?
I racked my brain, but the best I could come up with was that his barcode started with 01000010. It was a start.
I left my capsule and walked down the dim hallway, past sealed capsules to my left and right. I heard moaning from behind one of the doors. I heard wailing, as if from terrible agony, emanating from another. Nice neighbors.
At the end of the hall, beneath a flickering light, stood a graffiti-strewn door leading to an enclosed staircase.
Ah. Never realized this was here.
I pushed through the creaky door and descended, spotting two sketchy Volunteers leaning against the stairwell wall. One looked to be injecting a small needle straight into the center of the other’s eyeball, while his eyelids were pried open with metal clamps. The first Vol stared intently at me as I passed and hissed an invitation.
“Hey. You. Want a hit of Rez? Only 500 Crypt.”
? No, I’m good.
I kept going until I reached two floors below. Then I started my search down the long corridor. 01000010… 01000010…
No luck. Nothing. So I went back to the stairwell and descended again, resuming my search on a lower level, rinse and repeat. At last, I found a door with the number 01000010 01100101 01110100 01100001 00111001 over it. Could that be it? Seemed familiar.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached out to knock and found the door slightly ajar.
Huh. That’s strange. I thought these things automatically locked.
? Camel? You in there? It’s Magpie.
Wow. I wasn’t quite used to my new voice. I have to admit I liked the sound of it, though.
I crouched down and pushed the door open, crawling halfway into the capsule to get a better look. I remembered the room was a little larger than my own. The fluorescent lighting was on the fritz, creating an intermittent strobing effect. But in those flashes I saw that the room was wrecked.
Camel always was a bit of a slob but…
The workbench was ripped from the wall. The kitchenette ransacked, the tiny sink cracked. The sleeping pallet had several large slashes down the center. Empty bottles lay scattered.
Uh oh.
Who did this? And how recently? Was it the Serpents, breaking in and tearing through his meager belongings? In search of that accursed map. But what could I do? I wasn’t going to call for the Polizei bots. It’s not like they would care, either. I wasn’t sure Volunteer-on-Volunteer crime was even against the rules.
I crawled in all the way, careful to avoid crunching any of the detritus. I tried to adjust the lighting dial and ended up pounding on it until the illumination stabilized. Didn’t look much better with the lights on. For a second, I pathetically wondered if there was a phone jack in here.
In the back corner I saw those same high-tech crates–the storage cubes, one stacked on top of the other. The corners of each cube were rounded in a way that differed from mine. A different design. Maybe an earlier model.
Depending on the model and size, I knew these cubes could be massive–literally, as in possessing a great deal of mass. Trying to physically move one could be a real challenge. Also, unless you had the right code on your wrist, you wouldn’t be able to access the data storage within.
Curiosity burned within me. What was in those cubes? Something valuable…? Had a thief broken in only to be stymied by an unbreakable lock on Camel’s immovable stash? At the very least there may be some clue that would lead me to my friend.
I couldn’t resist.
I reached out and, hovering my rooker over the surface, highlighted the topmost cube. I attempted to open it and–to my shock, it opened. The dram thing wasn’t even locked!
A menu screen appeared in my vision, detailing the contents of the hefty 500 metabyte storage cube. But my heart sank when I realized it only contained a large number of glossy BBW magazines. Nothing but BBW magazines. And the other cube? More of the same.
No clue. Certainly no map.
At least Camel had a type.
Serenity.
That’s it! Serenity… Camel’s favorite pleasure bot in the Red Light district. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Knowing his proclivities, she might have been the last to see him! I should have asked her long ago, and I had just passed by there on my way back through Checkpoint C.
Excited by this new prospect, I left the capsule and hurried to the elevator, scanning my code and feeling the rattling cage sink to the ground floor. I stepped out on the concrete ground between the Residential Towers to reorient myself. Which direction back to the Red Light? But as I did… I got the distinct sense that I was being watched.
If I had any body hair, which I didn’t, it might have stood on end. But I had an unnerving tingly sensation. Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed without my enhanced perception. Something dark, some shadow had its eyes on me. Stalking me. A shudder raced down my spine.
I spun around, focusing my ocular implants, searching for any obscure vantage points. But I saw nothing.
I suddenly thought of that black, skeletonized cyborg. Ishmael. Every part of his flesh voluntarily consumed and replaced by that cannibalistic cult. Were the Serpents tailing me, hoping I’d lead them to Camel?
It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.
I hesitated.
I had no clue where my friend was, but finding Serenity was my best lead yet. But if Camel was laying low, even in hiding, he must have his reasons. However, I wasn’t sure that was actually the case. Warning him of danger was one thing. Leading danger straight to him was another.
Then again, the Serpents promised to reward me if they got their filthy hands on that mysterious map of his…
On the other hand, I could follow through with my original plan and go find Fancy Jack. This anomalous manuscript page had to be worth something to him. And every cycle that passed would compound my miserable financial situation.
Where does Magpie go next?