I wave the socials away. Just the everyday noise of too many people sharing too small a room. A quick finger tap opens my private messages. The first one’s from Johnny, a terse two words.
“Doin’ okay?”
I realize my feet are already walking the route toward his shop, weaving through the maze of corridors with a mind of their own. I need to let him know what happened, where Jase is at. I dash off a quick text reply letting him know I’ll be there shortly. The next message offers me an unbelievable deal on all-natural male enhancement, guaranteed to add length and girth. Straight to junk, and a spam filter update. The third one’s from Hammer, wanting to get together and talk, sending the usual stupid grin across my face. I make a mental note to message him as soon as I’m done at Johnny’s.
I enter, the beads rattling in counterpoint to the sounds of sizzling noodles and shifting woks. Johnny fills a bowl and places it on the counter. Gratefully, I grab it and a pair of chopsticks, but don’t take my accustomed place on one of the battered stools.
“You got a minute—private?”
Without a word, he hits a button on the stove, turning the electric coils off, and dumps the rest of the noodles in a bowl for himself. Another button drops a latticed metal barricade across the entrance—I know from memory that the AR sign on its front reads BUSY, BACK WHENEVER. We walk through the storage closet and into Jase’s workroom, still in the same state of disrepair as when the drones dragged us out… shit, a little more than half a day ago. It feels like half a year. I slide into a chair, bowl warm in my hands. Johnny leans against a workbench.
“Some heavy stuff went down.” In between bites of noodles, I describe what Jase and I found in the haphood, the raid in Industan, Sawyer keeping Jase on the rig. Johnny’s eyes narrow imperceptibly at Sawyer’s name, but other than that he doesn’t say a word.
“…and that’s about the gist of it. Sawyer said he’d let us know when it’s time for the next op, that we need to act normal until then, but I don’t like it. I don’t want Jase getting sucked into that world, and running those scouts felt… wrong. Like they were taking something away.”
Johnny taps his index finger against his leg, almost like he’s triggering a firing stud.
“Rig sounds well defended. Got a location on it?”
“No,” I reply, trying not to sound frustrated. “Other than that Border Patrol squad showing up in the cafeteria, Sawyer’s opsec was superb. They kept us in the cruiser for almost four hours each way, and it made way too many course changes to keep track of, especially without my gear up and running. That rig could be right offshore, or halfway up the coast. If we hadn’t run into that squad, we’d still be there.”
“Have to get back to it, then.”
“Yeah, but that means we’re going there under Saywer’s terms. Again.”
“Can’t always get what you want, kid.”
“Seems to run in the family,” I grumble, pushing some noodles into my mouth.
“Seems to.” Johnny inclines his head. “Be careful with those drones. Hate to see Sawyer do to you what he did to Naomi. I still owe her.”
I try not to frown. Johnny’s used Mom’s name twice in the many years that I’ve known him, and each time it was when things were as serious as a heart attack. Not a good sign for where he thinks this adventure is headed.
“I’ll do my best. I don’t plan to be in them a second longer than necessary.”
“Wise. Let me know if I can help.”
“Will do, Johnny, thanks. Appreciate the noodles—I’ll let you know what comes up…?”
He nods, and I exit the workroom, placing my bowl on the counter. The grate clatters back up into the ceiling and I return to the Brown, heading for my room. The trip passes uneventfully, couriers making their usual rounds through the stairwells, wizened old techheads stretching their legs and playing mah-jongg under fitful lamps, the bustling flow of hidden people working hidden lives. It doesn’t feel like home, but it feels… alive. A place struggling for a living, not one waiting to die.
I latch my door behind me and sprawl, as much as sprawling is possible, onto my mattress, fingers already plugging in the jammer and opening up a channel.
<<Ham. You there?>>
<<… Ash! It’s good to hear from you, I was starting to worry. You haven’t been on for a while.>>
I chuckle, thinking about how being gone from the Game for less than a day was enough to make Hammer concerned. What does that say about my playing habits? Though, to be fair, normally after an encounter like the one with the dragon we’d be tearing through the rest of the content nonstop, so I can see where he’s coming from.
<<Sorry, some stuff came up I had to deal with. You wanted to chat?>>
<<Yeah. Usual spot?>>
<<Sounds good.>>
I close the channel and open up a link to the crypto-room, not bothering with my full hapsuit, only the hood, and of course my gloves. I’m not really in the mood to get physical, not with all this other crap hanging overhead. The gatekeeper, this time wearing the skin of a giant ant in a tophat and monocle, checks my code, then passes me through. Seconds later, Hammer sits across from me, the endless tables stretching out around us.
“So what’s up with my favorite dev?” I try to keep my voice light.
“I…” Hammer pauses, then stops. Odd. This kind of reticence isn’t like him.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. Out there.”
“What, you mean the boat thing? It was just a little water, Ham. Embarrassing, for sure, but nothing more. Didn’t even get any needlefish bites.”
I hate lying to him, but the fewer who know the truth, the better. Johnny, I trust with my life. Hammer, I trust with my heart, but that’s not the same.
“It’s… more than that. Ash, do you remember when we first met?”
“Yeah, of course. Masquerade facet, the Midsummer Ball, couple years ago. You tried to lure me away from the objective, as I recall.”
His lips turn up into a half smile.
“And I almost had you too. Ten more seconds and you would have missed your chance at the duke.”
“I almost let you. That’s why I came back after I poisoned his wine. The conversation was far more interesting than whatever that plotline was supposed to be. Finally someone other than the girls I could talk the Game with. Like, really talk.”
Hammer laughs.
“I’ll never forget the look on all the other players’ faces when he keeled over, right in the middle of a waltz. They couldn’t believe there was a vulnerability window that early. Most of them packed up and went back to Candyland for the night.”
“Whereas we”—I take his hand—“spent it dancing. Which was lovely.”
“It was.” He sighs, smile disappearing. “Ash, I have to tell you something, and you’re probably not going to like it. No, you’re definitely not going to like it.”
My heart pounds. He’s going to give up on us, he doesn’t want to deal with my bullshit, I’m going to lose him, fuck fuck fu—