Tony watched the door swing shut behind Addie and then listened as her footsteps tromped on the stairs leading up to the apartment she shared with Bert. He felt lousy about how upset she’d gotten. He was more upset with the assholes who’d jumped them, but he supposed everything had been a hell of a lot more shocking to Addie, and he hadn’t exactly given the best possible response to the situation.
He looked down at the counter where the two rifles and three PAI chips sat on the banger’s liberated synth-leather jacket. Addie had made him promise not to tell Bert about her brush with death, but he’d gotten her to agree to a plausible story for the weapons. That said, Tony slipped the PAIs with their tangled, filthy synthetic nerve fibers into his pocket; he’d have to offload those somewhere else.
He folded the jacket, hiding the gang colors, when Bert emerged from the storeroom—he’d been on his way to the bathroom when they arrived. The older man cleared his throat and gave the guns a good, hard look. “Took ’em from some kids, huh? District’s getting worse and worse, I suppose.” He picked up the semi-auto with the extended magazine. He ejected the mag, frowned at the polymer-jacketed .308s inside, and then worked the bolt, clearing the chamber. “Hate to think of some kids shooting this old thing in the district. Did they say where they got the guns?”
“Nah, but they looked like banger wannabes. They didn’t hang around to answer questions.”
“Well, this one’s gotta be twenty-five or thirty years old, but it’s a solid old piece—Grommet Arms. The other one is actually a better gun, but it’s meant for hunting.”
Tony nodded. He’d recognized the bolt action rifle and the high-powered optics array right away. It was a poor man’s sniper rifle, or, as Bert said, a decent gun for hunting, but there wasn’t any hunting to be had in the metro area. “You think you can move ’em?”
“Sure. They’ll sell online pretty fast. You wanna do commission or want me to make you an offer?”
Tony shrugged. “Whatever’s easier for you, boss.”
“How’s an even thousand for the Quail & Briggs and four-fifty for the Grommet Arms?”
“That’s what the ‘Q’ stands for? Quail & Briggs?” Tony had heard of the gun manufacturer before but never owned one.
“Yep. You can see it’s not a knockoff because of the style of the boxes around the Q. See how one is tilted so it looks like a diamond? That’s where most imitations mess up.”
“Sounds good to me. I mean the offer. You want me to start paying you rent?” Tony frowned and then shook his head. “Actually, I mentioned to Addie that maybe I ought to start looking for my own place now that I got all my working parts back.” Tony touched the metal casing inside his right eye socket.
“No need to be hasty, Tony.” Bert smiled and held out a meaty palm. “Hand me your bit-locker, and I’ll make the transfer.” While Tony dug it out of his pocket, Bert added, “Save up a bit, and then I’ll help you find a place if you want. I know it isn’t exactly a young man’s dream to live in a storage room, so I won’t feel bad about it, but I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
“I feel like I already owe you a lot. This arm, for instance. I know you said you hadn’t been able to sell it, but come on, Bert. Were you trying? I mean, there had to be some interest on the city net at least.”
“Nope, I wasn’t lying, buddy.” Bert tapped Tony’s bit-locker to his little terminal and then handed it back. “I never listed it online—rather see it get used by someone who needs it in the Blast, you know? As for guns?” He picked up the semi-automatic. “I’m happy to ship these outside the district. Don’t worry about me or Addie, Tony; I’m doing well enough that I’ve got a rainy day fund socked away.” He hefted both guns and then jerked his head to the storeroom. “Gonna take some photos and then box these up. You got any other plans?”
Tony thought about the three PAI chips sitting in his pocket. If he could get a decent price for them, maybe he could afford one for himself—one with Dust-link capabilities. Of course, there was always the chance they held data that might be valuable, too, though he didn’t have the faintest inkling who to go to for something like that in the Blast. “You know anyone who deals in used PAIs? I bought a comm chip earlier but wouldn’t mind an upgrade.”
“Doc Peters couldn’t help you out?”
Tony shook his head. “He says he doesn’t deal in them enough.”
“There’s Dino’s. He might have something, but there are a few chop docs in the district, too. Real ones—not like poor Doc Peters and his clinic. There’s one in the NGT building.”
“Well, I think Addie wants to go down there tomorrow. Maybe I’ll stop in.”
Bert nodded, turning to the storeroom. “She okay? She was kind of quiet when you two came in.”
“I think she wanted a nap. Some of the people she was dealing with were pretty rude.” Tony felt bad lying to Bert, but it was more like a stretch of the truth; those bangers had been damn rude. Thinking of them, Tony self-consciously poked his finger through the rip in his sleeve. It was the second track jacket he’d ruined since arriving in the Blast.
Bert cleared his throat and shifted his weight as he stepped toward the back door. “I could use your help with a delivery, I suppose.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Nadia Engels has a standing order for these little collectible figurines.” The older man held up a cardboard box featuring a big-eyed, doll-like character on the side. “I got this on a net auction pretty cheap, but don’t tell her that. She’s loaded. You’ll find her on the same street as Golden’s—the big office building on the corner. She’s a forensic auditor or something like that. Does most of her work for Boxer.”
“I just bring it to her?”
“Yeah, she’ll send me the bits.” Bert tapped his head and winked.
“Right on, boss. I’m on it.” Tony snatched the little box up and then started for the door. Over his shoulder, he called, “I might stop and buy a new jacket while I’m out, but I won’t be long.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Tony waved again, then slipped out the door. On his new, rudimentary AUI, he opened a message window and selected Addie's name from his tiny list of contacts. Mentally, he sent her a note:
Tony: Hey, Ads. Heading out to make a delivery for your pops. Thinking I might pick up some noodles or something. Want me to grab you something?”
***
Addie pulled on an oversized t-shirt, wrapped a towel around her damp hair, and collapsed onto her bed, suddenly exhausted for no good reason. In a way, she supposed it made sense; despite her mostly passive role in the whole…scene in the alley, she’d definitely been riding on adrenaline for a while.
That kind of thing would take a lot out of a person. At least that’s what Tony had said. He’d been the one to recommend she take a shower and maybe a nap. Wasn’t he bothered? She supposed not; he’d been ready to talk guns with her dad, and the origin of those guns didn’t seem to concern him one tiny bit.
She pushed the judgmental thought aside; hadn’t he already kind of made it up to her? Hadn’t he said he was sorry and hugged her for a lot longer than she’d hugged anyone in recent memory? “God, JJ. He’s a great hugger.”
“Would you like me to compose a list of ‘hugger’ qualities and rank individuals upon it? To get started, I’ll need you to tell me who you are referring to.”
Addie snorted, turning onto her side so she could see the almost-blue sky over the top of the apartment building across the street. “You’re an idiot, JJ, but a good kind of idiot.”
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“Thank you, Addie.”
She watched the sky and tried to figure out why she felt unsettled. It wasn’t just the adrenaline or the fact that people had been shooting at her. It wasn’t just the explosive violence she’d witnessed out of Tony. No, it was more the fact that she was lying comfortable, warm, and cozy in a safe apartment, and three young men were lying dead in an alley not much more than a mile away. She wouldn’t blame Tony for that. She couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault that he was a product of a violent life, one in which the rule was simple: if people tried to kill you, you killed them first.
No, she was more upset with the situation that would cause those three young men to try to ambush them. It wasn’t such a far-fetched idea that Addie might have wound up doing something that stupid. A few seemingly random occurrences in her life had taken her down a different road, but she knew plenty of friends—most of them—who’d found their way into gangs. Life was cheap in the Blast, and Addie hated that fact. Was it fair for her to have a dad who loved and sheltered her when so many young people were fending for themselves the minute they were old enough to hustle?
“What is this? Survivor’s guilt?”
“Addie, survivor’s guilt is a complex emotional response to surviving a traumatic event in which others—whether victims, perpetrators, or even bystanders—did not survive. Would you like me to elaborate?”
“No, JJ. I was being rhetorical.”
“Apologies.”
Addie sighed heavily and flopped onto her back. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else. Of course, her conversation with the day manager at the funeral home was the first topic to dance across her mind, but that road led to the alley, and Addie forced her thoughts away.
She looked at her news page on the city net, saw she’d gained over two hundred new followers, and began flipping through the comments on her Boxer Day vid. Feeling encouraged, she contemplated editing her interview from the funeral home, but then her message icon flashed, and she opened a window to read it:
Zane K: Hey, Addie! I hope it’s okay to reach out to you like this; I found your news site, and you listed your contact info, so…
Addie’s eyes bulged out at the message. Zane! “JJ, is there any user data associated with this message?”
“It’s from a Boxer Corp internal network associated with a user named Zane Kovalenko. There’s nothing further.”
Addie couldn’t help the smile pulling on her cheeks as she replied:
Addie: Hi, Zane! It’s fine, but now I’m feeling very self-conscious about my news vids!
She watched the little dots indicating he was responding, practically holding her breath.
Zane K: Well, listen, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about! Those are some really well-edited vids. Interesting content, too! Hey, um, I’m off for a couple of days—my manager’s bribe to get me to do that little magic show. I don’t suppose you’d like to talk some more? I know it’s short notice, but I’ve got nothing going on this evening.
Addie felt her heart racing as if she was doing something risky or against the rules. Was it because he was a corpo? Was it because he was absurdly handsome, and she didn’t want him to figure out how plain she was? Whatever was making her heart practically rattle against her ribs, she tried to push it down and respond before she chickened out:
Addie: I think that would be really nice! I could use a distraction.
Zane K: That’s great! I’ll send a car for you in about an hour. Cool?
Addie’s eyes bulged, and she audibly gulped. He was sending a car? What was Bert going to say? What would Tony think? Everyone on the block would be talking! “Oh, no, no, no.”
Addie: You don’t have to do that! I can meet you.
The dots blinked and stopped, then blinked again before Zane’s reply came through:
Zane K: Okay. No worries. How about we meet by the NGT building? There’s a restaurant nearby where we can get a quiet table and chat. Is an hour okay?
Addie felt relief wash over her, and she smiled as she started mentally typing her reply. Before she sent it, though, another chat window popped up:
Tony: Hey, Ads. Heading out to make a delivery for your pops. Thinking I might pick up some noodles or something. Want me to grab you something?”
Addie suddenly felt that wave of guilty nervousness again. Why? Was there something wrong with having more than one friend? Scowling, irritated by her weird, conflicting emotions, she replied:
Addie: Thanks so much, Tony, but I’m going to meet a friend. Catch up with you later?
While she waited for a reply, she sent her message to Zane:
Addie: Sounds perfect. See you then.
Tony: Fair enough. Catch you later.
Addie smiled. What was she worried about? Tony wouldn’t be bothered that she had other friends to talk to!
Zane K: Looking forward to it.
Addie shot out of bed like she’d been struck by lightning, her eyes wide and wild. What was she going to wear? He hadn’t specified the kind of restaurant. If she dressed up too much—falsely presuming she had something “too much”—she might give him the wrong idea, anyway, right? No, better to be comfortable but still look decent.
Addie opened her closet, pushing the clothes on their hangers one by one until she got to the last item and felt absolutely zero inspiration. “I hate my clothes, JJ.”
“I’m sorry, Addie. Shall I compile a list of nearby clothing retailers?”
“No,” she sighed, pulling the towel off her still-damp hair. She stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection framed by the glow of the LEDs that ran the length of the glass on either side. Her shoulder-length auburn hair hung in thick, unruly waves that seemed determined to defy gravity. She reached for her old ceramic hairbrush, dragging it through a particularly stubborn tangle with a grimace.
“Okay,” she muttered, flipping her head forward so her hair fell like a curtain over her face. She scrunched it up with her hands, hoping for that effortlessly tousled look that never seemed to come when she wanted it. When it failed—as she’d expected—she straightened back up and sighed. “Fine. Plan B.”
She unplugged the blow dryer from the charging port on the wall, set it to medium heat, and started attacking her hair with a combination of brushing and blasting. As her hair began to dry, the waves sprang to life, thick and full, a cascade of coppery brown that seemed almost luminescent under the light. It always looked better in the light. In a dim setting, it was dark and dull, the highlights invisible. She sprayed the dregs of mousse from a can, scrunching it into the ends to give the waves more definition.
“How’s it look, JJ?” she asked, twisting a lock around her finger to test its bounce. As her poor PAI sputtered for a compliment, she pinned back a section on one side with a small clip, tucking it behind her ear. She stepped back, tilting her head as she examined her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but it was natural and soft—approachable. She ran her fingers through the waves one last time, letting them settle into a deliberately messy, carefree style. At least, that was the impression she hoped she was giving.
“Now, clothes.” She settled for a pair of newish jeans—black ones that looked almost like slacks in the right light. She didn’t have fancy shoes, so she put on her black and white canvas ones, and, likely to impress no one, she pulled on a soft, baby blue sweater made of some kind of fabric blend that almost shimmered in the light. It was cheap, but it looked nice and was as soft as could be, so she always felt comfortable in it.
On the way out of the apartment, she smeared a little bandage gel on her palms, blowing on it to dry the thin, protective layer on the scrapes. Downstairs, she was glad to see Tony wasn’t back yet. She wasn’t sure why, but she was nervous about how he’d react to her doing her hair before going out. She was afraid he’d ask where she was going, and she’d have to either tell an uncomfortable truth—she was going to the NGT building in the evening—or lie.
Her dad was fussing with a package at the counter and hardly looked up as she walked by. “Going somewhere, sweet pea?”
“Gonna grab a bite.” Addie paused by the door and looked back at him; he still hadn’t looked up. “Do you want me to pick you up something?”
“No, thank you, honey. I’ve got leftovers.”
“See you later, then.”
“Be safe!”
Addie smiled. He always said that. She slipped out the door and turned to the left, setting her sights on the enormous silhouette of the half-destroyed megatower in the distance. Neo-Genesis Technologies—the company had gone bankrupt when the Aurora Gate fell and destroyed the top half of their home arcology.
It hadn’t just been the loss of property and life but the lawsuits afterward that had done them in. Even though NGT as a company was gone, the big red neon letters remained. Now, the tower was owned by a corporate conglomeration, and the half that hadn’t been destroyed was rented out or abandoned. Addie had heard all sorts of creepy stories about the empty floors up near the broken-off part.
She stretched her legs, picking up the pace. It was a good half-hour walk to the tower, but she figured she could make it in time. “Maybe a couple of minutes late,” she muttered. “JJ, set me a walking route to the NGT building.” A new window appeared on her AUI, showing her a little mini-map with a dotted blue line leading toward the tower. Her estimated arrival time was 6:12. She looked at the timestamp for her conversation with Zane—one hour from the last message was 6:05. “Close enough,” she confirmed.
It was a little chilly out, but her sweater was warm. She glanced at the sky, trying to spot the setting sun, but it was already behind the big buildings to the west. She figured the sky would still be light by the time she arrived, in any case. Even so, she was feeling a little foolish for heading down to the NGT building at night, especially after telling Tony it was a bad idea. She supposed she could splurge for a cab home. It was really the only smart thing to do; walking alone outside the neighborhood at night was just stupid.
“JJ, what’s my Sol-bit balance?”
“Your primary account holds 945.0313 Sol-bits.”
“How much is an AutoCab from NGT back home?”
“AutoCab is quoting a rate of 54.9871 Sol-bits at this hour.”
“Okay.” Addie exhaled a deep breath, glad she had a plan. She hadn’t hired a cab in a while, and though she hated the idea of throwing fifty-some bits down the drain, it was a lot better than risking her neck trying to walk home after dinner. Smiling, more excited than she had any right to be, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans and walked a little faster—maybe she could pick up a minute or two if she timed the crosswalks just right.