by Nathan Lunn
“We have to bury him.”
Danny was the only one who replied, hesitant at first, “Bury him? But… we can’t. They don’t allow burials in the WestMeri state–”
“We have to!” Kye shouted, slamming his hands on the table – the wood chipped and splintered under his right. “It’s what he would have wanted. Fuck what the WestMeri government says.” Letting out a wild laugh, he yelled, "Not like we ever cared what they said before! When did you get so rational?" Danny pursed his lips, deciding not to speak back. Kye looked over at Charlie one more time, before straightening his back, and addressing the room again, “We can’t let people forget him. He doesn’t deserve that – he was one of the innocents. One of the good ones, I...” Kye’s voice cracked. “Fuck. Douglass, please, I know it’s not protocol, but I don’t care.” Sitting back down, he repeated himself, dejectedly this time, getting quieter as the sentence went on, “We can’t forget him – he didn’t deserve that. We have to.” For the first time since the shot was fired, the entire room was quiet. Everyone but Kye, who was now staring into the bottom of an empty glass, was looking towards Douglass for an answer. He took a deep sigh, bowing his head slowly in a nod. The room let out a collective breath they had been holding, as Kye put the glass down, and walked out of the office without a second look back.
Staring out of the workshop window, Kye watched the rain trickle down the pane. He tracked it with his eyes, connecting the drops through the bright lights of the metropolis in the distance. It was a steady flow – the weather was often inclement the lower down you got through the city – and the cracks in the workshop ceiling were starting to swell. Just in front of the windowsill, he could see children starting to come out of their houses, their ragged clothes barely protecting them from the rain, their torn boots filled with dirty water. Looking up further, he saw their houses, windows cracked and streaked with soot, gutters broken and leaking water down the red-brick walls. He could see in the far back, past the broken roofs, the profile of the city. Towering spires of skyscrapers, adorned with bright neon signs, lay fuzzy in the background, cars buzzing around them like flies to the foul-smelling corporations they were housing. Past the darkened clouds the spires continued to clear skies and floating townships, whilst far below the dank alleys were lit by flickering lightposts and burnt out cigarettes thrown in the corners, smouldering under piles of discarded packaging and rotting foodstuff. Kye knew this area too well.
“Kye?” It was Julie. “Kye, are you okay?”
Kye laughed, a desperate and awkward laugh, bringing himself up short to say, “How could I be okay? How could any of us? Just have to keep moving, don't we? Getting stuck won’t help us at all.”
Julie grabbed his face, looking into his eyes, “Kye, we have to talk about this, please! You can’t go back to it, you can’t. We need you. I need–”
“No,” Kye calmly cut her off, pushing her hands away from his face, and walking towards the door. He pulled up his hood to shield the rain from his face, and to shield his face from the girl, speaking once more before walking out, “We need to be alone.”
***
Hailing for a PubliCab through his commlink, Kye waited on the kerb for just ten seconds before his lift landed – a sleek black town car. Lifting his good arm, he tapped his temple, opened the door and stepped inside. He sat down on the leather chairs towards the back, accepting the bottled water that slid up from the cup holder. The interior was bare, save for the seats lining the sides of the car, all arranged in a tight ring, and the windows above those seats. There was no wheel, and instead the front of the car was taken up by a visual display unit, providing a map and a small looping video of the company’s mascot. He took a sip, noting the car had not yet started to move, before a robotic voice spoke from the dashboard ahead, the mascot articulating in time to the words, “Where to, Sir/Madam?” Kye realised he hadn’t proivided a location when he ordered the cab, and still hadn’t decided where he wanted to go. He deliberated for enough time for another query to come from the mascot, before deciding he would at least head home first, then collect his thoughts from there. At least it was towards the city, where he would have plenty of outcomes to choose from once he was there.
“Sunset Housing. And shade the windows please, I want my privacy.”
The mascot replied, “Of course, Sir/Madam.”
The PubliCab pulled away from the kerb, as the window’s transparency dissolved and an infomercial started playing on the display.
***
“We have arrived, Sir/Madam. Don’t forget to tip your server, and review your performance! Have a lovely day!”
Huffing at the mascot, Kye, walked straight out of the car. A notification popped up in his commlink, the mascot again, reminding him to tip and review the PubliCab’s performance. He swiped it away, authorising a 10% tip, then dropping two stars for his dissatisfaction with the service. Only after this did the car leave, floating off with a hum and a breeze that blew Kye’s thick hair apart, pushing his long green coat to the side. He took another drink of water, wiping his sleeve on his mouth. Throwing the bottle to the floor, he looked up at the building towering in front of him. Sunset Housing was a pretty generous name for the ugly structure it belonged to, and an ironic one considering the circumstances – the surrounding towers blocked any semblance of natural light, never mind the remote possibility of seeing an actual sunset. Sporting 242 stories, each with 26 single-space apartments, it provided accommodation for nearly 6292 individuals; even then, half the apartments on the lower floors had been flooded with too many occupants, dens for drugs and prostitutes, or simply squatters who were looking for somewhere easy to live. The security at Sunset Housing was laughably mediocre, providing the perfect place for a ShadowWalker such as Kye to live – there were plenty of people living in the areas around him that were in a similar situation. This resulted in a high concentration of assholes clustered directly on his doorstep.
He walked through the graffitied doors, manoeuvring around the tables tipped over in the reception, passing the empty desk and heading to the elevators in the middle of the wall. He didn’t have to wait long for it to arrive, and, once his floor was chosen, he didn’t have to wait long to reach it. As he stepped out onto floor 156, the elevator doors closed behind him. He looked to his left, watching the lights flicker down the long corridors, thinking that he could see figures slumped outside on the ground, or other shadows banging on doors begging to be let inside. He turned to the right, and continued down the corridor, passing dark green doors on both sides, numbered in gold signs and with a peephole camera in the centre below. Moving fast and avoiding these lookouts, he reached his door after a minute of paced walking, stopping directly in front of the peephole camera. Interacting with his commlink, he stood facing the lens; with a beep, the door was soon unlocked.
Kye entered the room and sensors in the corner moved to track his body. Sensing his motion, they turned on the fluorescent overhead lights; checking his body temperature, they began to heat up the room to accommodate for the cold, wet clothes he was wearing. The heating was quite ineffective, and, not really wanting to wait, Kye peeled off his clothes, and stepped into the bathroom. Setting off the shower, he jumped in immediately – water usage was limited in Sunset Housing, and this was his second wash of the day. Although this time, the experience was radically different. Watching the water drip down his new arm, obscuring the pale purple glow from within, he started to rub the seam between his arm and his shoulder. After just three short minutes, he stopped the flow, walking out as the extractor fan came on, pulling away any steam that was floating in the room. Kye bent over the sink as the mirror unfogged and his face came into view. His gaze fell to the arm, seeing it properly on his body for the first time, noting how smoothly it had blended with the rest of his physique – if not for the colour, you could not tell where the join had been placed. Flexing the fingers, he marvelled at the lack of noise, and at how smooth the motion was. Despite it’s technic
al prowess, however, Kye was nervous. He had yet to have had any technical glitches or coordination errors, and in his experience with new technology, that meant he was due one, and soon; he had also yet to understand the full capabilities of the arm, seeing no difference between the nanotech and a normal cybernetic part so far. He looked back up and stared at the man staring back at him, scrutinising the bags under his eyes and the patchy beard that was coming in, before washing his face and leaving to get dressed. He decided against staying in – he needed to be somewhere else, to be someone else, somewhere where he could drown out the noise, somewhere louder than the sounds consistently going off inside his head – he knew exactly where to go. Dressing in semi-comfortable clothing, he soon left the apartment as rapidly as he had entered it.
Walking quickly through the corridor once more, he almost made it to the elevator without issue. Two doors down, he was stopped in his place as the door opened and a burly man walked out. Stepping into the elevator with Kye, he grunted and tapped for the ground floor. They rode down in silence, monotone muzak drooping into their ear canals. As the voice welcomed them to the ground floor, they stepped out of the elevator, and into the reception. It was no longer empty. Standing behind the desk, tapping at an old dusty desktop was a thin, scabby man, a yellow beanie hat on his head, half covering his blackened temple, and a tank top that didn’t serve well to hide his tattoos, and even less to hide the needle marks potted around the inside of his elbow. Slouched over next to him in the leather chair, a girl picked at the cotton inside with grimy broken fingernails, covered loosely in a shade of neon green – complementary to the bright cocktail dress she was wearing, stained and torn down both the front and sides. Looking up as they entered, the man pointed a crooked finger towards them, shouting, “Oi! Luiz! Where’s my money at?”
The man to Kye’s side was quick to reply, with an equal level of animosity, launching into what couldn't be legally classed as a debate.
“Fuck you, Scoomer, I got your money right here!” He grabbed his crotch and shook it towards the man’s direction. This prompted him to pull out a serrated blade and point it towards him, all while Kye tried to walk out of the argument.
“How about I come and get what you owe then! Kandy, baby, would you lock the doors?” The girl – Kandy – sat, ignoring the command Scoomer had given, until he shouted at her once more, now pointing with his knife in a violent stabbing motion towards the door,
“Kandy! I said, get the fucking door!” She slid out of her chair, as Kye rushed to get there first, ultimately failing as she locked the door in front of him. He tried his best to be diplomatic, irritably asking, “Would you please unlock that? I just wanna get past. This isn't about me.”
The girl turned slowly, as Kye heard grunts behind him – the men grappling around on the floor – before she replied, slowly crooning towards him, “No sweetie.” She pursed her lips, flashing her broken and rotten teeth. “Scoomer says I can’t. It’s okay look–” Kye heard a final scream and grunt, as Scoomer stood, wiping his blade on the side of his shirt and walking away from the corpse twitching on the lobby floor– “here, he’s coming now. You ask him.”
Kye snapped, losing his temper and shouting at Kandy, “No! Move out of the way, I don’t want to deal with you fucking people!”
By now, Scoomer had reached Kye’s back. He was not happy. “Asshole! You can’t just shout at my Lady like that, she don’t deserve it!”
Kye retaliated. “Fuck off, you psycho, I’m leaving.” He moved, throwing Kandy out of the way with an unexpectedly violent push. She let out a yelp, enraging Scoomer, who grabbed Kye’s arm, pulling him round and throwing a shot that landed across his face. Kye tried to move his arm, snapping his head down to stare as he felt it staying limp. A punch to Kye’s gut doubled him over – his arm dragged on the floor as Scoomer raised his knife. A shot of adrenaline spiked through Kye, finally shocking him into action, as he blocked Scoomer’s swiping attack, pushing him up as he did – throwing him off balance and open for a reprisal. Kye took this opportunity, lifting Scooter up off the floor by his shirt, as Kandy yelled at him to put him down. Scoomer, knife still in hand, sliced down on the arm holding him up, cutting through Kye’s clothing and striking his arm. The blade bounced out of his hand and clattered to the floor.
“What the fuck?” he yelled, desperately scrabbling at the arm, as Kye reached around with his spare, unlocking the door with ease. Kandy cried out as Scoomer hit the floor beside her, watching with dismay as Kye left them behind. She immediately fussed over Scoomer, who was less worried and more irritated, instead yelling at her to leave him be. Walking out of Sunset Housing, Kye slammed the door behind him.
***
By now, the rain had eased up, leaving behind a cover of overcast clouds and an acrid smell in the air as the pools of water started to stagnate. Shards of sunlight battled their way through the grey carpeted sky, providing natural spotlights dotted around the pavement; Kye did his best to avoid these bright lights, sticking instead to the colder and darker side streets, away from what little amount of recognition towers that had been put up in the surrounding area. He had travelled the dingy path many times, and was more than used to the complex process of turns and flights of stairs – for ease of protection, he usually kept his hood up for the whole of the journey. Finally, he made it to the Night Zone, the main street of the province, which was so shrouded under shadow of buildings, cloud cover and recessive corners, that at only two o’clock in the afternoon it gave off the believable illusion of twilight. The street itself, however, was alive: sedentary merchants lavished in the touristic trade it provided, selling various knick-knacks and trinkets, advertising with invasive holograms various tales of horror and extravagant nightlife, laying just behind their curtains and doorways; a throng of people moved like a thick boa constrictor, weaving a disjointed path through the rickety carts and public demonstrators, constantly humming with social energy and the sound of footsteps on the concrete slabs; drones whizzed by, dodging neon hotel signs, toting food, deliveries or cameras for people’s personal use, before flying back into the upper windows they came from. Kye did his best to ignore the vendors, setting his commlink to its private setting, which served well to block the swarms of adverts that popped up in his vision. As far as the interactions with physical people went, he could only try his best to blend into the crowd, keeping his head down and sliding between the poor individuals that were caught in the crossfire of an intense sales speech. Turning left, he walked only a few more paces before reaching his location.
Kye looked above the glass double doors, acknowledging the logo with a begrudging despair. He had to shield his eyes for a moment – the bright design held a stark contrast to the jet black sky behind it, and the reflection of the clouds on the glass doors obscured his view of the interior of the building. Kye’s palms and forehead were drenched in sweat; he snatched incomplete breaths from the smoggy air around him as he waited. He stood still for a full minute, contemplating turning around and walking back to his apartment, before breaking his immobility, steeling his resolve and heading in, feeling his stomach drop as he crossed the threshold. He was instantly greeted with soft toned muzak, pushing into his ears, catchy repeating tunes that wormed their way into his brain and played over and over – the soundtrack to his insanity, his mind providing the lyrics he didn’t want to hear. Also greeting him, was a similarly soft spoken sales assistant, eager to push their new products on him as fast as possible.
“How could we be of service to you, Sir?” the woman spoke, walking towards Kye whilst checking off another customer on her display. He waved her off, already heading to the back of the shop, intent on reaching the ‘Trial-User’ area without issue or interruption. If he was stopped, he would waver, and he didn’t want a delay in his actions. This ‘Trial-User’ area of the shop held a waiting room that was fitted with comfortable leather sofas and shaggy soft carpets to keep their feet warm. In the centre of the back wall was a single d
oor, sheet metal and plain, with no discernible handle to be seen – a light panel was placed above the door. Underneath the light panel, a screen was displaying the internal feed of the user who was inside at the moment. Kye watched as the screen flickered, showing a man dressed in police outfit taken down with a quick shot to the forehead. His stomach twisted. He took a seat, alone in the waiting area, tapping his feet restlessly, as the light above remained red. His mind continued to race, as he battled with his thoughts, trying to talk himself out of continuing. Finally standing, the light panel turned green, the screen went black, and the door silently slid open. A bespectacled man shuffled out, adjusting his glasses and pulling a handkerchief from his top pocket to wipe his brow. Noticing Kye standing in front of him, his eyebrows rose before he moved his head down and hurried out of the shop. A sleek voice shouted from the darkness, “Next please!” Kye followed the man with his head, before turning back around, swallowing the tart taste accumulating in his mouth, and walking into the dark room ahead. The door silently slid shut behind him.
