“I’ve been tracking you since two days ago, when you told me about Mikelas. I thought he might try something. I saw what happened on the bridge. I… understand why you did what you did, but I’m worried about you. What’s really going on, Ash?”
Fuck. He’s right. I don’t like it. I don’t like being caught in the lie, don’t like that Hammer might get involved, that he’s good enough to track me without a single indicator popping up in the Web. No one should have been able to track me, not with Jase’s upgrades and the programs I bought. Anger starts its familiar march through my chest.
“Why were you following me? I told you I had it under control. How did you follow me?”
He holds up a placating hand.
“I was worried, and I… see the ’Nets a bit differently than you do.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’ll get to that, I promise. As to why I was following you, I know it’s creepy, but after what you told me the other day, I was worried what Mikelas might try and do to you. What he did try and do to you. So I wrote a little script to notify me if anything looked… off.”
He laughs, bitterly.
“For all the good it did. Damn thing didn’t notify me until they’d already closed in on you. It’s a good thing you handled it, Ash, because all I could do was watch. I had no way of helping, nothing that would get there in time. I’ve never felt so fucking useless in my life. I thought about breaking into your comms, but by the time I noticed what was going on, it was already too late and I didn’t want to distract you.”
“At least you’re smarter than Kiro,” I mutter. He looks at me questioningly, and I motion for him to go on, a curt gesture.
“I promise, if I thought I could’ve made a difference, I would’ve done anything. Anything. I can’t even imagine what that was like for you.”
“It was pretty shitty, yeah. You know what else is shitty? Having your boyfriend spy on you. When else have you been watching me?” I ask, angrily. “And why didn’t you tell me before this? Something like that could get you into deep trouble, even with the silkies.”
“Never before that, I promise. I know privacy’s important to you. Hell, it’s important to me too. Everyone needs a space where they can be someone else.” His expression grows distant. “Everyone.”
“And what about after? You said you never spied on me before, but what about after?”
He shifts guiltily, eyes downcast.
“I kept watching after you took care of the boardshits, to make sure you were okay. The, uh, the sink, that was me.”
“And after that?”
Ham looks up at me, gaze piercing.
“And after that. Which is what I’m most worried about. Ash, a gummie drone squad disappeared you and your friend for half a day, and when you got back, it was only you. What’s going on?”
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Have you told anyone? Please tell me you haven’t told anyone.”
“No, of course not. Ash, whatever it is you’re tangled up in, I can help. I want to help. I have… some resources. I know what it’s like to be alone—and I don’t want you to feel that way, facing… whatever this is.”
“I’m not alone,” I say absentmindedly. “I have my team.” My voice firms. “I don’t want you involved—I want to know you’re safe. This is my business. I’ll take care of it.” I stare back, not letting him look away. “Also, you didn’t answer my other question. How did you follow me? What’s with ‘I see the ’Nets differently’?”
Hammer shifts in his seat, brow wrinkling.
“I, ahh, wasn’t entirely honest with you, Ash. Back when we first met.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Oh, really? About what?”
“I told you my dad was involved with the Game, that he helped get me my position as a dev. Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. So what? A little nepotism isn’t anything out of the ordinary in this day and age. Cost of business; silkies, gummies, Han, hell, everyone does it.”
“My dad’s the executive VP in charge of research and development for WGSK. They own the sub-corp that makes the Game. GameCore. He’s actually one of the original developers.”
I feel my jaw drop, trying to process the absurdity of his statement. He can’t be serious.
“Your dad. Is the executive VP. In charge of research and development. For WGSK. And they own. GameCore. Which he built.”
He nods, looking miserable.
“Your dad. Is in charge. Of research and development for one of the Big Three?! Fucking fuck, Ham, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? That seems like a pretty big fucking deal, maybe something you mention to the girl you’re sleeping with, a girl who happens to live in a gummie fucking protectorate that’s literally a hairsbreadth from war with the fucking silkies on any given day!”
I’m almost shouting by the time I finish, and I have to resist the urge to reach across the table and start strangling him. My beautiful, intelligent, idiot lover. What the shit. Why can’t I just have a normal fucking relationship for once in my goddamn life?
I force myself to take some deep breaths, calm down as best I can.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Also, what does that have to do with tracking me?”
He looks down at the table, then slides a picture over to me.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
I tap it open, not sure at first what I’m looking at. It seems to be some sort of holding tank in a dark room, filled with a clear liquid. Wires stretch through its interior, connected to a shriveled and pallid form, limbs waving gently in response to unseen currents. Control panels blink steadily along its length, incomprehensible charts and graphs tracking data I assume is important. A tall man with pale hair, an expensive-looking suit covering his thin frame, comes in and lays a hand on the outside of the tank, then turns to the readouts. He scans them for several minutes, then leaves. I turn my attention back to Hammer.
“I don’t get it.”
“That’s me.”
“Nice suit. What’s in the tank?”
“Me. It’s where I’ll be for the rest of my life.”
It hits me. Hammer isn’t the man in the suit. The person I’ve known these past two years, the lover I’ve shared so much with—touched, slept with—the other half of my soul is… this. A broken shape twisting in a tube. He raises his hand with that preternatural grace, and all of a sudden it’s too much. The lies, both his and mine. The memories that never seem to go away, no matter how deeply I bury them. My anger shifts to pain, ghostly grips of other men haunting my skin, and I have to run, escape, be anywhere else but here.
“I… I’m sorry… I can’t do this right now…”
“Ash!”
His cry fades with the room and once again I’m sitting in my tiny closet, walls seeming to press in around me. Sweat drips down my body and I tear the goggles off in a rush. I have to leave, move, do something, go somewhere, be someone else, if not forever, then at least for now. My feet trace a path through the corridors that my eyes don’t see, mind whirling in on itself, and then a familiar voice sounds.
“Hey, Ash, everything okay?”
I look up into Sarah’s smiling face, her hands busy locking the entrance to her hapspheres, done for the day. Something in my heart jumps.
“…No, Sare. It’s not. Want to grab a drink?”
“With you, honey? Any time. C’mon, we can hit up the Acid Burn, should still be early enough to grab a seat.”