I make it to the Bradbury by the time the sun dives into the skyline. As much as I hate to admit it, I love the building. Protected as a historical landmark, it remains untouched in spite of the development around it. A squat five-story building of reddish brick, it sits among a sea of steel and glass like a stranger in a foreign land. I find a small amount of comfort in the loneliness of its existence. In a way, it's like a kindred spirit.
I leave my rumble bike on the conveyor that takes it to the adjacent garage before entering the Bradbury. The interior is like a trip back into time, relieved of all the minimalist, streamlined, irregular glass and steel of the newer buildings. Instead, the look is a cross-culture mix of Parisian windows, polished wood and terra cotta, Mexican and Italian styling along with geometric-patterned cast iron, and vintage elevators. Even more impressive is the massive skylight and cathedral atrium that allows natural light inside and creates a moody shift of shadows across the curved walkways and stairs throughout the day. It's the most beautiful building I've ever seen.
"Buenos noches, senorita," Carlos says with a smile. His face is so warm and friendly that it's easy to forget that from the waist down he's all robotic parts moving on a track that drives him back and forth behind the lobby counter.
"Evening, Carlos."
"Will you require a meal in your room tonight, or will you dine in the restaurant this evening?"
"You can send something to my room in an hour, Carlos. Doesn't matter what it is."
"We will try to be creative, then."
"Thank you."
I enter the cage elevator, which takes me to the top floor. I'm exhausted when I open my room door and step into my room. The only illumination is the rosy light streaming through the vertical blinds. All I want to do is take a shower and crash.
Instead, I nearly jump out of my skin when a pale face looms close to mine.
"I have information for you," Kage says in his velvety soft voice, stepping out of the shadows. The cybernetic implants in his head blink in alternating patterns of blue and red.
"You're in my room now? What the hell, Kage?"
He ignores the question, holding up a slim hand. A holographic projection springs from his palm. It's an image of a coppery-skinned woman in black and red stealth gear, a snug hood fitted over her head and shadowing most of her face. My breath catches in my throat.
"Dabria."
Kage's smile is terrifying. He removes the visor from his eyes, gazing at me with electronic pupils. "Yes. Your mentor has resurfaced." His irises pulse mockingly. "Or former mentor, I should say."
"Former is right. I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for her. Where is she?"
The hologram disappears when Kage closes his fingers. "At the moment, I don't know. She's always been proficient at eluding surveillance. I suspect she might have wanted to be seen in this instance."
I take a deep breath to keep my voice from trembling. "Why?"
"Because she knows the image would get to you. One way or another. Because she wants you to know she's still alive." Kage studies my face, no doubt looking for signs of emotion.
I look directly into his cybernetic eyes. "It doesn’t matter. All I care about is the mission."
He stares for what seems like an eternity. The room gets warmer, and I feel the pores in my forehead bead with sweat. Finally, he nods in satisfaction.
"That's good to know. Because I've been made aware that she has an agenda which will conflict with ours."
"You mean Specter."
"Yes. She's searching for him. We haven’t deduced her plan yet, but we will. The important thing is that we need to find him first."
"That's why we've been tracking him? Which means you've known Dabria was alive for months now."
"That's right. She's still high on our wanted list. And this is our best chance at finally bringing her down."
"You came here in person to tell me that? You could have just sent a memo."
"This is the memo."
I frown, stretching my arm out. Sure enough, my hand passes right through him.
His teeth flash in a rictus grin. "Like I told you. I'm always watching."
The hologram flickers for a moment before fading out. I gaze around the room, trying to pinpoint the projection point, but it's pointless. There are probably hundreds of cameras and receptors installed to keep an eye on me. Not to mention the hardware that's a part of me, bonding me to Cyber Corp as sure as if I were created to serve. I wish I were. Then maybe I wouldn't feel like the worst person on earth.
I take my clothes off and step into the shower. For just a moment I want to lose myself in the hiss of scalding water and suffocating steam. The memories haunt me anyway. Dabria's stern eyes, peering from the shadows of the hood covering her head. The battered streets and buildings we crept past on the way to the targeted facility. The ambush by Cyber Corp ghost troopers. The bullets and explosions that tore my body apart as if it was rice paper.
Water streams down the surface of my new body. Lean and lined with more taut muscle than curves, just like I was before. Even the geometric tattoos on my elbows and spine were reproduced. But looking closely I can see the fine lines like silvery razor scars where the synthetic flesh is grafted to the original. My body is sixty-seven percent artificial, manufactured to replace the charred remains of what they pulled from the rubble. Cyber Corp doesn’t take prisoners. They recycle enemies, transform them into cybernetic slave soldiers called Scythers. And the explosive planted in the base of my skull assures my utmost obedience.
But it does nothing for the flashbacks.
Seeing Dabria again triggers something in me that I thought I buried long ago. Worse than the phantom pain and memories of being charred, shredded, and left for dead. The helplessness hits like an unexpected punch in the gut. I slump into the corner of the shower, curling into a fetal position. Feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt overwhelm me, and like every time I let the memories resurface, I start to cry.
Chapter 3: 5P3CT3R
I feel like a dead man walking.
Flo is on duty when I stagger into the Reentry office. She takes up a lot of space in the tiny cubicle. Glancing at me over her horn-rimmed spectacles, she shakes her head, plump lips twisted in contempt or disgust. Maybe a bit of both.
"Well, well. Sleeping Beauty you ain't, Mr. Smith. Sixteen months, thirteen days wasting away in Elysia. You trying to go for the record?"
I try to control my shivering limbs, clutching the sill on the office window to keep from collapsing. "I thought I told you last time to up my nutrients. What happened?"
Smacking on chewing gum, she taps her retro keyboard in a bored manner. "That wasn't last time. It was the time before that. Last time you spoke with Fran."
I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering. "Beside the point. Look at me — I'm practically starving. I should slap a lawsuit on this place."
"Hey — get in line, pal. Your nutrient regiment went down because the rent went up."
"It did? When? I didn't get any notification."
"Your privacy settings must be muting your notifications, Mr. Top Secret. Your fault. Might wanna fix that."
"Yeah, okay. How much did they screw me over this time?"
"Fifteen percent."
"Fifteen?" I scrub a hand through my bristly hair. It feels dry and brittle as if it might splinter if I rub too hard. "Are you serious? How is that even possible?"
She shrugs offhandedly. "I just work here, pal. Something about rising property taxes. You know how it goes. Everything goes uphill, and it's all through the roof these days. What can you do, right?"
"Okay, fine. Look, I need a system reboot. Can you do that, at least?"