She links her arm through mine, gently pulling me through the bustling nighttime corridor, and the physicalness of her contact sends a jolt of electricity through my skin. It feels exactly the same as a hapsuit, but in my mind I know it’s different. We don’t say anything as she leads our way through Highrise, groups of people in brightly colored outfits eagerly making their way to various clubs and diversions, their happy chatter bouncing off the tiled walls, and I’m grateful for her silence. I want… something. Anything.
Sarah, arm still linked with my own, halts outside a doorway with a gaudy AR sign, the words ACID BURN dissolving letter by letter and then roaring back into flames. She nods at the bouncer, a burly guy in tight clothing who I could drop in my sleep, and he motions us through. Inside, the heavy chatter of a busy bar fills the air, muted lights providing just enough light to not trip over the scattered chairs and couches, the clink of glasses like a swaying chandelier. Sarah snags two stools at the bar, a dark expanse of wood, and motions me into one. I sit and lean my head into my hands, dimly aware of her putting an order in with the bartender. Gently, her hand falls on my shoulder.
“So, what’s the deal, girl?”
A pair of glass tumblers arrive in front of us, mild yellow liquid filled with intense swirls of red, and I slam mine back, a burning trail of ice that expands through my stomach in a familiar sting. With a soft burp, I place the tumbler back on the bar. Sarah laughs.
“Okay, that’s a hell of an answer, even though you’re supposed to sip those, but if it’s going to be that kind of night…”
She slams hers back and coughs, then motions to the bartender again.
“Next round’s on you. What’re you buying us?”
“Same thing,” I mumble, tapping over some creds. The bartender vanishes back into the chaos of drink-making, and I straighten up a bit, facing Sarah. “Same thing every damn time, in this same shitty world. Trying to survive, Sare, and no one making it any easier.” I run a hand through my hair and lean back, not quite tipping over the stool. “Especially not me.”
Another pair of drinks arrive in front of us, but this time I take a small sip. Can’t afford to get too drunk and perform poorly in the Game tomorrow. Sarah matches my sip, and looks at me over the top of her glass.
“Now this is definitely not the Ash that I know, wallowing in self-pity and shit. Hell, I just saw that girl solo a dragon a couple days ago, and everyone knows that’s impossible.”
I take another sip, feeling the warm glow spreading through my body.
“Some things are tougher than dragons, Sare.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Like my brother jumping in bed with boardshits. Like my boyfriend revealing he’s stuck in a test tube for the rest of his life. Like the end of the goddamn world.
“Like figuring out what this is. Between us. I have a boyfriend, Sare.”
“Lots of people have boyfriends. Lots of people have girlfriends too. All I know is…” She takes another sip. “I like the way you don’t give a fuck about what other people want you to do. You do what you want to do.”
I sigh.
“Do I?”
She chuckles.
“Oh, honey. You have no idea. You know that word’s already gotten around about what happened on that bridge, right?”
I tense, but she pats me on the hand.
“Relax, Ash. Every woman in this miserable place probably wants to buy you a drink for what you did to that fucker, and probably most of the men. Hell, I wish I could have done it myself. Back when he used to frequent my place…” She trails off, eyes hardening, then shakes her head and takes another drink. “But that’s a long story. You’re the one who went and did something about it, even when everything was against you.” Sarah gives me a smoldering look. “And yeah, I want to get into your pants. I’d say that’s been pretty obvious.”
I flush, heart lurching, covering my heated cheeks with another sip of the increasingly tasty drink. Sarah laughs, a peal of merriment.
“Oh, Ash, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do. If you’re not interested, just say so. It’s not going to hurt my feelings. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”
“It’s… it’s not that, Sare… it’s just…”
It’s just Hamlin will never be able to give me this kind of contact in the real. He’ll never hold my hand, not without a hapsuit between us.
“I think we could have fun, Ash.” Sarah’s tongue darts out, moistening her lips, and I watch, entranced, as she leans in. “I think we could have a lot of fun.” Suddenly, we’re kissing, her tongue brushing against mine, her lips hot and firm on my own. Just as suddenly, we’re apart, her eyes locked on mine, a sad smile dancing at the corners of her mouth.
“But I don’t think you want only fun. I think you want something real, something that anchors you to someone else. And that’s something I don’t think I can give you.”
What do I want? Hamlin can never cheat on me in the real. He can hold my hand as anything, be anyone. I’m the one with power in this relationship, maybe my only relationship where that’s ever been true.
I stare at her, my mind and body reeling, emotions on overload. The physical sensation, the rawness, so different than my life before, so different than ghosting to make ends meet with Ryeen, so different than the enormity of what I now realize is Ham, even though this contact is one we’ll never be able to share, but what does that matter in the face of everything else we can?
That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted. Hamlin.
I pull her in for another kiss, savoring one last moment, then push myself away and finish my drink.
“Thank you, Sare.”
She tips her tumbler at me in a salute.
“Of course, Ash. Now go. You’ve got someone I think you need to talk to. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course, Sare.” I grin. “Same time, same place.”
She blows a kiss at me and I stride out of the bar, knots of happy people lighting the way back to my room.
“Hamlin…”
We’re back in the crypto-room, his response to my request almost instant. He looks up at me, face tense. Guarded. Like he’s expecting me to hit him, use my perfectly honed muscles to smash his carefully crafted visage. Like I can’t see the pain in his eyes. Before I can say anything, he’s talking, words tumbling out, eyes flicking back down to the table, away from my own.
“I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry. It’s why I didn’t tell you who my dad was. Who I am. I was born paralyzed, polio mutation. Apparently it first showed up when they stopped vaxxing. Virus finally figured out how to nullify maternal antibodies. My mom wanted to abort, but my dad wouldn’t—he made her carry me. Couldn’t lose his precious heir, and obviously the laws are what they are, even in the west. They divorced a year later. I don’t talk to either of them that much. Mom’s just… yeah. Dad’s too obsessed with trying to regain his place on the corp track. The board’ll overlook a divorce or two, but no one wants a cripple in position to inherit.”
I feel his words wash over me, the baring of his soul, and I let my anger go. I’ve made my choice, and it was no choice at all.
“Shit, I’m… I don’t…” I suck in a breath, then release it. “That sucks.”
He shrugs, shoulders still tight.
“I’m luckier than a lot of other people. Death rate was in the hundreds of thousands before they figured out another vaxx. They stuck most of those affected in camps to die. No profit in curing them back then. My dad had the creds to hook me up with a state-of-the-art life-support system, and before I was old enough to talk, he’d used his exile to the ‘games’ division to focus on building the tech to allow me to interface with the ’Nets. Bunch of contacts in my brain, even better than haptics, not that I’m ever outside to know the difference.