Implanted

by Lauren C Teffeau

>

  He nods. <
  At his words, the hushed crowds of the Understory drifting past us have new meaning. Practically everyone’s preoccupied with their implants, synch chatting, messaging, navigating the feeds. I remember my mother telling me about a group of people who walked off the edge of a concourse like lemmings when I first got outfitted with my implant. They were so caught up in their own worlds, they were simply following after one another without realizing the danger. Mom taught me how to set up navigation filters to prevent that from happening to me, even though there was little risk of falling in the Terrestrial District. But even then, she was hoping for loftier prospects for our family.

  >>You make it sound like everyone with an implant is a walking zombie.>>

  <
  We file into the next available lift and arrange ourselves amongst the other business types heading up. <
  I debate what to say. At this point he knows more about me than anyone else in my life. From what happened to me in the Terrestrial District to the calibrated connection linking us together, even with the limitations I’ve placed upon it. It should make me angry how quickly I’ve grown accustomed to interacting with him.

  >>It’s just I’ve never felt hindered by my implant. It’s enhanced my life in so many ways…>> My parents could send me a hug any time of day, no matter how far apart we were. Being able to synch chat with my friends made me feel connected in a way that simply wasn’t possible before I got my implant. I felt less alone, my daily life enriched and reinforced through our shared experiences. And all that’s before factoring in my connection with Rik.

  Tahir’s quiet a moment. <
  >>What? No. She was just some random girl.>>

  <
  There’s something infuriatingly blasé about his tone that has me pulling up my implant’s cache and taking another look at a pretty Asian woman close to my age. >>I don’t recognize her.>>

  <
  The name combined with the face eventually jogs my memory. We never had any classes together, but her dorm was on the same floor as mine. We were just scenery in each other’s lives. Before Aventine wiped my implant, it held an accounting of the other college students, tagging their signals so I’d be able to recognize them as such if I ever ran into them outside of school. With those linkages now destroyed, with just my memory to go on, Christa may as well not exist to me.

  >>You took me this way on purpose.>>

  Tahir neither confirms nor denies it, just fusses with his gloves as the lift comes to a stop, people filing on and off. <
  Aventine’s certainly taught me that, in more ways than one.

  We travel up three more levels, still firmly in the Understory. I start slightly when Tahir walks toward Del Floria’s, a sedate drycleaners in the middle of an unassuming strip of shops and offices. With their fabric recycler out of commission, business must be slow given the popularity of one-use printed clothing and the ability to incorporate the latest trends into an outfit instantly.

  A bored clerk waves us toward a door past the recycler’s dark screen and behind the rotating racks, half full with high-end business wear.

  “A drycleaners needs our services?”

  Tahir shakes his head. “We maintain locations like this around the city in case clients want to do data drops off-site. You may also find yourself at one of these locations for scrubbing following data transfers if the client requires it.”

  The room beyond the cleaners has a hemocryption kit splayed out along a long counter running across the back wall. K, who I haven’t talked to since our sparring session, looks up from where she’s spinning round and round in a desk chair. She puts her foot down, and the chair jerks to a stop at our entrance. “You’re looking a lot better,” she says.

  The curdle wasn’t my fault, but my face still heats at the memory of such weakness. “No kidding.” She’s a couple of years ahead of me, but at this point, blood must not even faze her.

  “The client’s come and gone?” Tahir asks. At K’s nod, he continues. “Good. K’s going to have a thirty-second head start when she leaves here to go wherever the client has instructed her for the drop. M, your job is to keep up as she travels through the city.” He gives K a wink. “You know the drill. See if you can throw her off your trail before you reach the rendezvous for the data transfer.”

  K’s wide grin is almost predatory. “Sure thing.”

  “That’s all I have to do?” I ask.

  Tahir can’t quite hold back his chuckle. “You’ll have plenty to occupy yourself with for the next few hours.”

  I receive a synch request from a signal I don’t recognize. K waggles her brows at me, and I let it through. <
  Tahir and I follow K back to the front entrance of the cleaners. He stops me with a hand on my shoulder, and we both watch as she effortlessly merges into a cluster of businessmen and women.

  “Memorize the precise shade of her hair.”

  I keep my eyes glued to K’s back as she gets further and further away. “That’s it? That’s the only hint you’re going to give me?”

  “She must avoid attracting attention in the spaces she moves through. As should you, but there are ways to use that to your advantage.” He presses his lips together, and I know that’s all I’ll get out of him.

  He holds out his hand, counting down. Anticipation twines through me. Three, two… one. At his nod, I step out onto the concourse and open up my connection to K.

  >>Ready or not, here I come.>>

  Chapter Nine

  A flash of copper-colored hair in the periphery of my vision is my only warning K has veered off the concourse and onto an intersecting walkway. My heart rate ticks upward as I move to follow. Two women holding hands stroll along, blocking my way forward. Come on, come on… When they don’t give way after a few moments of dogged tailgating, I give up on politeness and finally squeeze past them, ignoring the dirty look the woman on the left flashes me.

  I won’t let them be the reason I can’t keep up with K. My pride’s on the line. How many arcade missions have I played where I had to follow someone? Scrappers, too, in real life? This is no different, but I should know by now nothing’s straightforward where Aventine’s concerned.

  In the central Understory, concourses radiate out from Fountain Center, with tighter walkways that function as connective tissue. They aren’t always straight or evenly spaced, but they get the job done. Unless of course your job is following someone down them. Then you’re screwed.

  Tahir’s fractal cross flashes to life in my mind. Even though there’s supposed to be a pattern, it’s a lot more wild and woolly in practice with all the branching possibilities. Already, the strain of speedwalking twinges in the tops of my calves. But the rest of me hasn’t been this alert – this alive – in forever as I struggle to keep K in visual range.

  She glances back once. With my ocular boost, I see her wink before a stocky man shields her from view.

  <
  >>If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.>>

  Her laugh shivers across our connection. That she’s allowing me access to her nonverbals suggests she wants an honest in
teraction, but my competitive streak keeps me cautious. This whole thing might feel like a game, but with Aventine keeping score I can’t let down my guard.

  <
  I bite my lip. I’ve closed some of the distance between us, but then again, her progress through the Understory has been pretty straightforward so far. What happens when she decides to really make me work for it? Still, it can’t hurt to have someone to talk to who isn’t Tahir for a change.

  >>Witnessed a crime,>> I finally answer. >>You?>>

  <
  >>But it didn’t keep you safe from Aventine.>>

  She’s quiet at the bitterness in my voice. That, or she’s deciding her next move at the upcoming intersection. Right will turn us back toward the drycleaners. I can’t imagine she’d go that way, given how often Tahir harps on efficiency. So it must be left, taking us further away from Fountain Center, toward the outer edge of the northeast sector of the city. From there, she could take the lifts, or maybe the client’s in one of the corporate plazas along the way.

  I lengthen my stride slightly. Don’t want to miss which direction she actually chooses.

  <
  >>I’m withholding judgment for the time being.>>

  I crane my neck to see over the eddying crowds that always pop up at intersections. The food carts and shopping stands don’t help. A woman with bright red hair scurries left, but after zooming in on her, I realize she’s not K. Too many freckles, hair more carrot than copper. Frantically, I quicken my steps. Did she turn right then? Does taking the most efficient route go out the window if you’re being followed?

  The concourse opens up, but even more people bustle along the wider corridor that cuts through the heart of two buildings ahead. Finally, I spy K’s copper hair working against the current on the left-hand side of the concourse. I haven’t lost her, but why is she backtracking?

  With an eyecast command, I pull up my map of New Worth, translucent enough to still see where I’m going. Nothing on this level stands out as a potential destination. But just as I scroll to the level below this one, a slight rumbling whoosh shakes the concourse. Just for a few seconds, but it’s enough for me to put it all together: A maglev station must be below us.

  Across the way, K makes a beeline towards a stairway. My map displays the train’s realtime schedule as K disappears down the stairs. Crap. Train’s leaving in three minutes.

  I zag left to avoid a family unit, then zig between two clerks guiding their automated hand carts loaded down with packages. Their swears chase me to the stairway. Holding onto the railing for dear life, I charge down them, trying very hard not to remember what it feels like to sprain my ankle.

  <
  >>Gloating doesn’t become you.>>

  She’s still laughing by the time I reach the bottom and rush toward the queue of laggards hoping to board in time. K passes through the security gate and turns back, taking only a second to locate me in the line. She flashes me a smile, then boards the train, all cool confidence. <
  I don’t answer as the line moves forward, quickly, but not quickly enough for my nerves. As the gate creeps closer, I remember all the modifications and changes to my implant. This will be the first time I put them to the test. My palms itch as the fabric of my gloves absorbs the extra moisture there. What if it doesn’t work?

  <
  I grit my teeth. >>It’s not funny. What if I can’t board?>>

  <
  The man in front of me moves through the gate. It flashes green as he heads toward the maglev. My turn. Time slows to a crawl as I wait for the gate to cycle to green. When it finally does, I practically run to the train.

  ||| Thank you for traveling on the New Worth Magna-Rail. One ride has been deducted from your account, Ms Ana Gonzalez. Have a nice day. |||

  Ana, huh? At least at this particular moment in time. My body limp with relief, I grab the first seat I can find. K’s not in this carriage, but I can see the back of her head in the next one through the glass.

  <
  >>I didn’t realize I’d be putting all my new gear to the test today.>>

  <
  >>What happened?>>

  <
  The train doors close, and it glides out of the station, quickly picking up speed along the rails mounted to the sides of buildings. With a slight lurch of my stomach I realize we’re descending. I was so frantic to keep up with K, I didn’t even notice our direction when I boarded.

  >>So what do I call you?>>

  <
  >>You think you can shake me?>>

  <
  For a moment, I wonder if she’s just as lonely as I am. >>Sounds good. But you won’t lose me.>>

  She laughs, not unkindly. <
  She leaves me alone after that, and I split my time between watching the city slide past my window and keeping an eye on Kat so I’ll know when she gets off. The train makes alternating half circles as we spiral down the sides of the dome, only to straighten out as we bisect the city. Stations located along the diameter are often carved right out of the sides of the buildings that happen to be in the way.

  Finally, we reach Ashton Depot, the last stop in the Understory, before the train continues into the Terrestrial District. Mentally, I will Kat to get off here. She stands, and I do too, working my way closer to the end of the carriage. She doesn’t turn around, but something about her stiff posture makes me wonder if she knows the only things separating me from her are the double doors between carriages. She falls in behind a cluster of other people waiting to disembark. Just as I’m about to get off, she continues past the exit and up the aisle. She takes a backwards-facing seat where she can smirk at me.

  The man curses behind me as I push myself out of line and find another seat of my own. >>Nice try.>> I realize I’m grinning, so focused on winning this little game with Kat, it’s easier to overlook how I came to work for Aventine in the first place.

  She shrugs. <
  >>So we’re heading into the Terrestrial District then?>>

  For a moment I wonder if she’ll answer, then I catch her nod, slightly distorted through the glass. Part of me’s annoyed I have to go back down there. The rest’s grateful for the change of pace, even though I had to leave Emery Driscoll back at HQ.

  The train slows to a stop at Randolph’s Corner, an elevated station near the heart of the Terrestrial District. Kat remains seated as the doors open. Passengers clamber on and off, Kat blocked from view. When the aisles clear, she’s vanished from her seat.

  No. Can’t lose her now. I jump up and force myself through the doors just as they start to slide shut.

  “Doors are closing. Please stand clear. Doors are…”


  The automated voice fades as I find myself surrounded by people milling around the platform, Kat’s copper locks nowhere in sight. A woman struggles to wrangle her two kids toward the security gate. A trio of teens pushes through the crowd, insulting everyone in loud, braying voices about their clothes, their connectivity, their cluelessness. But only a few barbs hit home since too many people are using their implants to block out the ambient noise. That or they know better than to engage Disconnects en masse, given the tensions of late.

  The lifts and train stations are actually the most dangerous places in the Terrestrial District – pinch points where so many people are trying to get through, no one notices someone who’s there one second and gone the next.

  It cuts both ways down here.

  The old claustrophobia rises up, swamping me with unwanted sensory impressions, but I fight it back, searching for Kat in the crush. Just have to rewrite my reactions to… how did Tahir phrase it? Less-than-agreeable stimuli. But that’s easier said than done.

  The government keeps saying it wants to reinvigorate the Terrestrial District, that the city can only thrive with strong roots, but I see no evidence anything’s been done besides maybe a few extra trash bots dutifully navigating the crowds. I’m nearly ready to call it when I spy Kat on the other end of the platform, pushing her way past folks content to merely stand as the escalator rolls down to the next floor. Across from me, a set of stairs is cordoned off for maintenance. How much maintenance can they really need?

  Arcade games always rewarded aggressive, out-of-the-box solutions. Aventine’s the same way, considering how they select potential couriers. The stairs it is. Reluctantly, I let go of my glimpse of Kat, hop the barrier, and hit them at a sprint, something I’ve been practicing in my parkour sessions. At the landing halfway between this floor and the next, orange cones are set out where the grating’s been removed to get at the pipes underneath.

  I’m going fast enough that a hard stop will do more harm than good. But the hole beckons. Too wide to jump easily. Deep enough to break something if I guess wrong.