by RD Hale
Tear ducts burn as I take sanctuary in a shell of isolation, sitting on my mattress and I brush grime from the artifact retrieved from the lake bed which is shiny and metallic without a hint of rust. I run my fingers along tiny raised letters and hold the object up to the light to read them:
AFT-HGF-O17-GHY-NHG
Grade 1 Nanotech Augmentator
Made in Nyberu 2039
'Grade 1 Nanotech. Shit this thing should still be in working order. These things don't corrode...'
Chapter Thirteen
Changes
'Morning Lel, you okay?' I yell, skipping downstairs to embrace my first day of true freedom with a rigid face disguising any hint of the injuries inflicted by the ice queen. After the savaging my heart has sustained I am still standing; eager to get reacquainted with friends and laugh at inevitable rumours, resilient enough to endure problems bigger than any non-citizen has experienced. Brooding achieves nothing.
'I've got a terrible head-ache.' Lel coughs and her ravaged condition stops my nonchalant approach in its tracks. She is sprawled crookedly on the couch as if suspended by trepidation of movement which may cause further discomfort or illicit the urge to vomit. Strain has etched visible lines into pallid skin and there is a bruised bagginess below her yellowed eyes.
'Oh my goddess, you look like Scoop on a good day! Have you tried eating anything?' I ask.
'Yeah, threw it straight back up,' Lel croaks.
'If you're not feeling any better by tomorrow, we'll drive you to the Medicentre. Best get some rest. Let me know if you need anything,' I insist.
'I'll take care of her,' Emmi whispers, bringing over a flask of water.
With the patient in caring hands, I turn my attention to Killow who is viewing an article about mechanoid engineering on the compuscreen. The midget glances back as I near him, holding the device I retrieved from the lakebed.
'According to the etching, this thing is a grade one Nanotech augmentator.'
'Those things are supposed to last practically forever, you think it's still working?'
'Only one way to find out.'
Killow and I wade through piles of junk to Ivor who is slumped against spraypainted bricks and still in need of repair. The mechanoid's pitiful state draws a parallel with Lel's... Exhausted, broken and deactivated, but maybe this device can inject some life into him.
Killow prises open Ivor's dented, yellow chest plate so I can place the augmentator inside the cavity. It is immediately magnetised to the innards, becoming flexible and fluid as wires and mechanical parts are coated by nanites. Killow replaces the chest plate and we stand either side of his weaponised limbs for maybe thirty seconds. With no response Killow hammers his fist against Ivor's torso.
'Come on say something, stupid mech,' Killow grumbles.
'Oh well. He's still hibernating, maybe it'll work when he's fully repaired himself,' I suggest.
With hand in trouser pocket I roll the rock recovered from the sarcophagus between fingertips and the smooth surface provides an instant calming effect. Mystified as to what purpose it could serve, logic dictates there must be more to this object than meets the eye and some online research may yield clues.
'What's that?' Killow asks.
'It's a rock I found in the box with the cartridge,' I reply.
'Listen, there's a faint sound. Pass it to me,' Killow requests.
I follow his instruction with a shrug and as Killow clasps the innocuous thing in his hands there is an audible humming which strangely I could not hear a moment ago. Whatever the hell is happening stops Killow in his tracks and his muted, juddering reaction seems unnatural; he is losing control. I watch in puzzlement as the rock somehow radiates blackness like a light-devouring shadow, subduing the colour of Killow's hands which reach towards Ivor's chest plate.
'This is no rock. I think it's responding to Ivor's augmentator,' Killow mutters in a robotic tone but as those words appear to confirm his wellbeing his eyes roll into sockets and the rock liquefies. 'Eurgh.'
Killow flings his arms but the metamorphic substance sticks firmly, smothering his hands and seeping under clothing to consume his body. With no idea how to aid him, I gawp as my friend is enveloped like an animal caught in an oil slick. Hair, skin, eyes and tongue all black, shining, metallic. He stands perfectly still - frozen into position as the liquid sets. Horrendous seconds pass before the substance fades, creeping into Killow's pores and he squirms, wheezing like an asthmatic. His skin now has an android-like complexion.
'Eargh... It-it hurts... What the hell is happening to me?' Killow groans.
'I-I've no idea. The cartridge I found - let's check it out. Maybe it'll explain,' I reply.
In a state of stupefaction we lurch into the main room where Scoop is clutching his stomach on a couch, looking even less human than usual. The sound of a sickly pair groaning in unison is rather unpleasant, but I am too rattled by the unknown side-effects of Killow's ordeal as well as my own mental state to be overly concerned about a flu virus. It seems everyone is being struck down in one way or another.
'Not you as well,' I sigh, inserting the disc into the drive and activating the compuscreen. A ream of text appears:
Nanotech Grade 1 Augmentator - mech version. This technology will upgrade any combat droid. A massive power boost is generated by micro-fission reactions... The molecules of the exterior are restructured to provide resistance to explosives... Behavioural routines are rewritten to provide advanced tactical proficiency, enabling the AI to think dynamically and utilise the environment to its advantage in a combat situation...
Nanotech Grade 1 Augmentator - human prototype. Similar to the mech version, will make human flesh resistant to strikes from sharp objects and blunt force trauma as well as providing a degree of resistance to hand gun and phaser fire. It endows the user with additional physical strength and combat abilities, transforming the human body into an effective weapon, the functions of which are mind-controlled. The user should be aware of numerous possible side effects, mostly caused by a foreign body response of the immune system. Mass military production is not recommended until these issues are resolved.
I disregard the diagrams and technical jargon below the text and turn towards the happy go lucky bastard; rueing the unfairness of my months of imprisonment versus the midget being reborn as a supersoldier but Killow's sullen face suggests he does not appreciate this prodigious gift.
'It's not fair, it's turned you into a weapon! I'm the one who found it,' I complain.
'Weapon? I've got this thing inside me and it's damaging me as we speak. It hurts. If you wanna swap places, then be my guest! Okay prototype thing, infect Arturo. I don't want you... You're supposed to be mind-controlled, do as I say!' Killow yelps.
'Hey Oscar, check this out. Killow's turned into a weapon! Show us what you can do.'
'Er, I dunno how, it won't obey me.'
'That's cause you're a wimp! Oscar, watch this.'
Grabbing a monkey wrench from between stool legs, I bash Killow's head which clanks as the rusty tool bounces. 'Hey!' I delight in thumping his apparently metal-plated skull again and again, stretching my arm back to give a wonderfully hard whack. The monkey wrench springs back to the astonishment of Oscar and Bex whose laughter visibly irritates the frowning tinman as he holds his arm out defensively.
'Your skull didn't cave in. It actually works, how cool!' I raise the wrench again and Killow takes a few steps back, waving hands.
'What about the side effects, what if it kills me?' Killow asks.
'Stop complaining, your skin is now a layer of body armour! We'll speak to Jardine about it when we see him next,' I reply.
'I'm going to my room to have a smoke and chill out. This is too much to take in.'
'Hold on, Killow. Can we come with you? Show us some of your super powers. I wonder if you're as powerful as Dynah. Whoa, we'll have t...'
Killow's two admirers follow upstairs with Bex nattering in the ear of our newest superhero
. The sickly pair cough and groan on the couches as I log into my email account at the compuscreen to message Vytali: Hey, what you doing tonight? You fancy a trip to the slums?
As I await Vytali's reply I read a Gamecentral article about the new X-Station system which involves uploading a virtual reality to your brain so you experience the videogame as a lucid dream. After roughly fifteen minutes a notification pops up to say a message has been received. It reads: When can we meet?
I reply: Tonight 18.00 Ampfield Station.
Slumming It
I embark on a lengthy walk to the tram station to restart my prohibited friendship, arriving just one minute later than promised. Waiting under a yellow sign I glare at a pair of Citizen teens who quicken their pace as they descend the stairs. The breeze picks up so I rub my goosepimpled arms, unable to take shelter thanks to the entrance barriers. And the ease at which I previously entered only increases the sense of segregation.
Minutes tick by and multiple trams pass with no sign of the higher ranking human I have arranged to meet. Finally giving up, I turn to leave but after a couple of steps I hear another one of those snake-headed transports hissing to a stop at Ampfield Station. Moments later, I am waving from behind a forcefield as the rich kid springs onto the platform.
'Whoa, there he is - the invisible man. I thought you were dead or something!' Vytali bellows as he passes through the fallen forcefield.
'Okay big mouth, you ready for an adventure?'
'What do you think?' Vytali laughs as we trundle along a high street, passing an old town hall with grand intentions hampered by stunted growth. A banner with the words: Community Centre flaps above a doorway with antiquated lamps. Stone columns and a domed clock tower would have failed to give the intended air of grandeur when it was initially built. Today the slimy brick and blackened sandstone conjure the image of a building recovered after a century submerged in a muddy lake.
Vytali activates his holowatch and says, 'So we're really doing it? We're crossing the borderline from Level Two to Three and venturing into parts where outlaws roam! This street right here is stretching my limit of decrepitude, I've lived a sheltered life. According to my holowatch this is where Tiberius Wall began, stretching over one hundred miles in that direction to keep out the barbarians. That building is apparently two hundred and fifty years old and haunted by a former mayor executed in this public square. It actually has a pretty exciting history but then it became home to miners and ship builders and was abandoned by fashion and good taste. It's good to see you got yourself into the role, Zain, dressing as a slum kid. Very fitting... So anyway, how's your mother?'
'My mother?' I furrow my brow in confusion.
'Yeah, she getting better?' Vytali continues.
'Oh... Yeah,' I mumble, recalling the cover story I made up when I messaged Vytali from the valley hideout.
'It must've been some illness to keep her out of action for so long. Medicine can fix pretty much any ailment these days. So what's happening with college, they gonna let you stay on the course?'
'Er yeah. They gave me temporary leave on compassionate grounds, but I've been viewing the lectures online so I haven't missed much really.'
'So I take it this is your first time as well, Zain? I've been doing my research, just to prepare for the unexpected. We have to be wary of gangs. As you can imagine there's lots of 'em, weird ones as well. Did you know there's a gang who roam the city at night, biting necks with fang implants? Fucking vampires!'
'Yeah vampires, we've totally gotta watch out for those,' I groan.
Leaving the high street behind we continue onto a dusty road and pass a number of business depots surrounded by a spiked fence with names like B & G Process Engineering and Insignia Mail. I glance at a second hand car seller; the cheerless and probably crooked office does not have a showroom and a small number of unergonomic vehicles are parked outside. Many of the poo-splattered roofs lack solar panels and a proportion are likely stolen, cut and shut or recycled from scrapyards. The price tags displayed in windscreens range from two to five thousand credits and are out the reach of many Level Three Citizens.
'This is the last bastion of civilised society, we are now entering the badlands! This place is Auster Hill - home to orphans, runaways and rejects... Come on, up here,' I instruct.
My arboreal instinct propels me up a brick wall and I clank along a corrugated roof before leaping onto a concrete building. Rushing off, I make split-second calculations to take death-defying leaps over sheer drops and I climb drain pipes, fire escape ladders and window ledges. Fall size is not taken into consideration because surefootedness is hardwired into a devolved part of my brain.
'Hey, slow down,' Vytali yells and several buildings later I turn back to see him hesitating at a roof ledge. 'I'm not sure if I can do it.'
'Course you can! Just line yourself up with this wall here. Run up and jump. When you land, lean forward and grab it to stabilise yourself. Then you reach across to grab this ledge and once you're under these bars you climb. Simple!'
Vytali stares down into the backstreet of three storey squats with boarded up windows. An adjoining stairway roof is the only way up and he tentatively steps back: his overly-aggressive run up driven by peer-pressure, rather than free-spiritedness and when his unadapted frame hurtles his legs attempt to run mid-air.
Vytali thuds onto the narrow stretch of tarmac and flops, breaking the second impact with his hands to climb the gradient on all fours. Down below, I glimpse binbags piled in a tiny backyard as Vytali stands with arms wobbling, then he freezes.
'Not afraid, are ya?' I yell.
'C-course not,' Vytali shrieks unconvincingly, leaning over the cluttered enclosure, stretching across to the window ledge and shuffling to gain purchase. Maintaining grip to avoid plunging into garbage, he allows his legs to swing free under the barred window.
'Right, now you have to reach up with one hand and grab a metal bar, then climb.'
'But if I do that I'll fall.'
'If you don't, you're gonna fall anyway!'
Letting out a groan, Vytali stretches for the metal grid and clings one-handed with feet sliding against masonry. His body twists until his free hand reaches bars and he stares up with beetroot cheeks. Grunts louden as he agonisingly ascends, catching his breath as at last he gains a toehold.
'I-I can't believe you got me into this. If I'd fallen my shins would've burst through my skin!'
'Hey, you were the one with all the tough talk. You seemed awfully keen a couple of hours ago!'
Tears well in Vytali's eyes as he curls lips and places a forearm on the rough ledge. Grabbing his sleeve, I tilt back to pull him up and he feels almost weightless due to the determined pushing of his free hand. I grasp his collar to heave him the final few inches and he sprawls flat on his face, panting.
'Never again,' Vytali whimpers.
'Isn't it amazing what you're capable of when you have no other choice? By the way, we're not done yet.'
'W-wait, I need a rest.'
'Come on. Just a bit further, then we'll stop for a while.'
Swerving a chimney pot, we leap onto yet another rooftop and Vytali barrel rolls on impact, then gets up and raises arms with a delirious grin.
'I'm getting the hang of this!' Vytali howls but water is still visible in his eyes as we approach a teetering tower of metal supports. With lips flapping in silence, Vytali points out the chasm where the hand of gravity awaits but I leap beyond its grasp to dive through an empty window frame; tumbling into a construction which never had the flesh added to bones.
'W-what if I miss?' Vytali asks.
'For goodness sake it's no different from the jump you just made. Only a bit further and with a smaller target! It's easier than it looks because this floor is slightly lower, so it gives you an extra fraction of a second to gain distance,' I explain.
Vytali takes an extended run up to leap through the air and he crashes onto the floor, looking back with jaw rocking. Then we scurr
y through shafts of dust in the empty carcass and our pace slows as we ascend the many floors in a stairwell, eventually reaching the uppermost level.
Shadows of girders criss-cross grey tiles as we catch a breather and I yell: 'Hello-Hello-oh-oh-oh!' My voice echoing multiple times as though I am replying to myself. Rushing to an empty window, I halt momentum by one-handedly grabbing the frame to stop me crashing to Eryx. Then I peer roughly thirty storeys down at hills of dug up soil, muddy puddles, strewn pipes and an abandoned cabin.
'Whoa, you must be psychologically incomplete! You could've fallen.'
'That's what makes it exciting!'
An amusing nerviness accompanies my slide down the jamb until my backside thuds and my legs dangle in the breeze. A few people are perched in a similar manner on a lowly roof, not too far as the crow flies and yet from our hawk's eye view they are blurs.
Vytali treads nervously as though he expects to be sucked out of the building by low air pressure and he grabs a wooden post, almost stumbling in the process. Strangling the frame, Vytali descends and allows his legs to hang free as I pull a rolled spliff from my pocket. I light up hydranjea and exhale a cloud of disbanded tension with a long, drawn out breath.
'Whoa... This... is... high...'
'In these parts up and down is as normal as left and right. Sit down, have a smoke... Amazing, isn't it?'
'Amazing? It's disgusting. Definitely not as appealing as it looks in the movies!'
'This is reality for some of us - the slums. Abandoned buildings and shacks constructed from things people like you through away. Millions of people live in places like this. You see the concrete towers over there? That used to be the city centre. It's filled with businesses run mostly by crooks now. Casinos, nightclubs, strip bars, a few stores selling contraband and such. This is reality. You live in a bubble. Something happens around here, an ambulance won't be coming to pick you up. In these parts it's every man for himself.'
Within minutes of Vytali taking a few drags of the spliff, he raises arms and glares at the sky as he blows smoke - evicting the uptight version, the timorous pretender and replacing him with a floppy, reckless, accident waiting to happen.