The Other Side of Life (Book #1, Cyberpunk Elven Trilogy)

by Jess C Scott

  “We had a simulated version of the break-in…” Dresan mused, ever one to share his passion for technology and creation, “where we wanted to take down all the guards at the museum by putting up a semi-laser sphere around the whole institute. But there would have been too many complications, what with the isotopes, to calibrate the forcefield, and many other technicalities.”

  Leticia bobbed her head up and down slowly, hearing what he said, but not having a clue about the scientific details behind such a move.

  “We have to act…now,” Tavia concluded. “Or it might be too late.”

  Anya felt a bitter taste in her mouth. If what Nin said was true, the tree in trouble meant that all of life lay in their hands. Her hands, especially. She wasn’t accustomed to shouldering that huge an amount of responsibility. A chill crept through her veins as she recalled what had been said about the “prophecy” too, even though no one was sure how much of it really was factual. Was she being led to the grave? But Tavia did mention it could be nothing more than an urban legend.

  “Twenty-four hours,” Anya nodded, not really agreeing, but not disagreeing, either. Did she really have much of a choice? Besides, she was being recruited to locate a missing parchment piece—not sacrifice herself on behalf of all humanity. “I’m only doing it, because you asked me to,” she added quietly, addressing the last part specifically to Nin.

  “Great!” Nin gave her a quick hug, his heart singing the praises of the good nature she extended to him. Anya was a little taken aback to admit (to herself) that it somehow felt so right being in his arms, even if it was for a short while. There was something comforting and protective about his touch, which appealed to her much more than his words.

  Nin added that there were a few more things to sort out on their end. “I’ll send you the details, tomorrow.”

  Anya was glad when they exchanged cell numbers. The elves had thirty-seven digit numbers.

  “Bypasses all the human cell phone networks,” Dresan explained, as Anya and Leticia stored the numbers in their cell’s address books. “We call our wrist device the ‘N-Gage’.”

  “It’s more straightforward than the insidious human GVMT,” Tavia added, as she re-adjusted the time on her device.

  “We have those at home,” Anya said, glancing up to admire Nin’s lithe figure from the back. She and Leticia had received complimentary models that the company was pilot-testing.

  “We don’t use it that much though,” Leticia added. “I think ours have a heat-up problem.”

  “Good,” said Nin, with slight disdain. “What does it stand for again?”

  “Great-Value-More-Time,” Anya replied, in the exact same pitch and tone as the syrupy voice of Cyborg Mi$$y, the alluring avatar spokesperson in the GVMT advertisement that aired everywhere.

  “When it actually stands for ‘government’.” Nin shook his head. He sympathized with humans half the time. The other half the time was influenced by the fact that history seemed to repeat itself far too many times.

  “I’ve been trying to crack the embedded code of the second version,” Dresan carried on, since hacking was a subject he was endlessly fascinated with. “The GVMT plants subliminal political messages. Your cell phones are keeping you connected to a world of automatons.”

  Nin gave a crooked smile. He already knew that.

  “Is that true?” Anya had joked about it to Leticia. She didn’t really think the government had decided to go that far.

  The elves nodded in unison.

  “Stick to your basic cell phone models,” Nin advised.

  Leticia looked to Anya when they were ready to go. They were both facing Leticia’s bag on the counter. They felt the same way—that they needed to do the right thing.

  Leticia passed the golden cup over to Nin. “I suppose this belongs to you.”

  “We can find something else,” Anya added, charitably. “Another dream catcher, maybe.”

  Nin’s smile was brighter than the sun. “My deepest thanks.”

  He replaced the cup onto the counter, treating it like it was made out of fragile glass. Then he proceeded to escort the two girls back outdoors, to the halfway mark of the train tracks. His mind was fixated on one thing the entire time: what Anya had said.

  “…because you asked me to.”

  The words echoed in his mind. What if he had asked her to murder someone for him—would she have agreed too? He pondered over it. He seemed to face less resistance from her, the longer they spent with each other. He’d only known her for a half hour, but was beginning to feel like he could tell her things most wouldn’t even care to discover.

  “Are you really doing it, because I asked you to?” Nin suddenly asked, in a low whisper to Anya.

  He was speaking to her only. Leticia was walking a few paces ahead.

  Anya blinked a couple of times, before chiding herself for marveling at his flawless skin. Surely there are a gazillion more pressing matters to consider, right now?

  “I guess so…” she replied, “…since you seem to need me, more than I understand.” She paused for a second. “Need my help, I mean.” She didn’t know if she was making any sense at all.

  Nin wanted to know her better. She seemed to be a free, fiery spirit who lived by her own rules most of the time. She really had no reason to be so compliant with him.

  But the girls had to go now.

  “Tenna’ tul’re,” Nin whispered into Anya’s ear, before he turned to leave. “See you tomorrow.” His cool, soft lips brushed against her skin. It sent another shiver through her. It woke something up in her—a glimmer of hope, that love would not be something she would never experience.

  “Goodbye,” Anya said quietly, keeping her cool on the surface. She would be mortified if Nin noticed her blush. She was used to showing her soft side only to the tiny fraction of people she was very close to.

  Attentive, gentlemanly sorts are a rarity, she rationalized. They’re a disappearing species, if they haven’t already vanished a long time ago.

  Nin quickened his pace slightly, when he felt a slight ache in his heart. “A thousand times the worse for me,” he had almost replied out loud, “to watch you go with the fading night.” They were lines from an Elven poem, and while it was midday, Nin started to panic when the words came up in his mind, the moment Anya said “goodbye.”

  Anya turned back once, to steal a glance, as Nin headed back to The Velvet Underground. She and Leticia walked the rest of the way to their bikes, in silence.

  “You okay?” Leticia asked Anya, as they stood beside their weather-worn bikes.

  Leticia watched Anya, a little suspiciously. Anya was usually chattier, and a little less absent-minded.

  Anya had to snap herself back to reality. “Yeah, I’m good,” she almost snarled. Feeling vulnerable was something she loathed with a vengeance. It was a sign of weak will, to her. As a thief, she knew that no tactical operation ever went well if a person wasn’t clear-minded and alert.

  She got onto her bike and kicked it into gear. If she managed to sleep at all that night, Anya was sure her dreams wouldn’t be as uncanny as what she and Leticia had just encountered.

  But her mind was already set on the next time they would be back at The Velvet Underground. That gave her more of a buzz than the planned break-in. She didn’t know why she wanted to see Nin again. What was he to her? What was she to him?

  Anya turned on the stereo audio system located inside the fairings of her motorcycle, wishing to zone out. The speakers blared with the lyrics to the latest song by a misfit indie rock band called The Darker Romantics. The band was well-known for their eclectic redheaded frontwoman’s soulful, emotive vocals.

  “I don’t know if I want you…or if I need you…but I know I’d put my life on the line to find out.”

  So much for music to space out to.

  Chapter 4:

  Dresan kicked back his heels, now that the elves were by themselves again in their dwelling place. Tavia had joined him on th
e soft-cushioned couch. Her feet were stretched out, resting on the surface of the low tabletop before them.

  “We’ve never brought humans here before.” Dresan was beginning to feel a dreadful sense of uneasiness. It was only just sinking in.

  “They weren’t exactly…intruders,” Tavia mused, steepling her fingers. She finger-traced the tattoo on her inner wrist, of a Celtic circle swirl design. “Though I do wonder if we let them in a little too easily.”

  “It’s too late,” Dresan’s voice was barely audible. “What if they tell everyone they know?” His worrywart ways were in full gear.

  Tavia looked at him for a couple of seconds, then faced forward again. She appeared comfortable as a cat about to curl up and take a nap. “You think too much.”

  “When my mind stops working, I stop working...” Dresan quipped sharply. His intellect was his strength and he hated anyone making slight of it.

  “They left the goblet.” Tavia signaled to the golden cup, which was still on the counter as Nin had left it. “And let me keep my dream catcher,” she concluded with an air of triumph, along with a glint in her eyes.

  “Mizuno…” Dresan said in a playfully jeering tone, before rolling his eyes slightly. “He’d have made you another one, if you asked.”

  “I don’t want to trouble him.” Tavia was tuning out—she was busy imagining herself as Akira Mizuno’s future muse, and favorite model on the runway. Daydreaming about this always made her lips curve in a slight smile.

  “Don’t forget karma.” Nin had been listening to the conversation all along, as he pored through some blueprints of The Gilbreth Institute. “I have a good feeling about those two.”

  Tavia and Dresan nodded, both slumping and slouched over on the couch. Their way-past-midnight investigative work of the previous day had left them sleep deprived. Still, they trusted Nin, who always seemed to make things work at the end of the day.

  Nin was half-listening to their conversation, and half-absorbed in his own thoughts. Cyberpunk elves were on par—if not more advanced—with the rapid changes in technology, a core aspect of the human species. He questioned the ever accelerating progress of technology and changes in the mode of life. Was anyone emotionally happier? Were they better off than their ancestors, who lived simpler lives?

  Nin was acting in the moment, operating on intuition, that liaising with Anya and Leticia wouldn’t be a bad move. Don’t trust humans, Nin had been advised by one of his contemporaries who hadn’t broken off from the Elven establishment. They’re damaged souls whose actions are steeped in violence and hatred.

  “What was it Anya said, about stealing your heart?” Tavia slurred, eyes half-closed.

  “Don’t look at me,” Nin responded, still appearing to be absorbed with the maps. Focus, he told himself. We cannot afford anymore mishaps at the institute. At the same time, he was thinking of the soft, sweet note in Anya’s voice, when she had said goodbye. Her courageous, lively spirit warmed him. She’s like a wild vapor of sweet champagne. He felt a slight tightness in his throat. Romantic balderdash—I think I’m losing my mind.

  “A high elf with a common human?” Tavia wefnt on in an artificially high, shrill voice, oblivious to her cousin’s inner thoughts. “Unheard of! As I’m sure you know.”

  “Hrmph,” Nin muttered, pretending to agree. He wasn’t sure if he was semi-elitist himself. He and Tavia had been High Elves, after all. “It’d be a deviation of epic proportions.”

  “That’s not to say it won’t happen…”

  Whose side are you on? Nin almost asked Tavia.

  “I saw your hand, on Anya’s back…” Dresan pointed out, tilting his chin up as he waited for Nin’s reply. “Working your charm to get your way…”

  “One of your many talents,” said Tavia, looking at Nin insouciantly, as though he’d planned it that way.

  “One can always get what they want, through charm and personality,” Nin replied, justifying his actions. Anya didn’t flinch at my touch…he thought to himself. In fact, I think she enjoyed it.

  “That’s not…possible though, is it?” Dresan mused, drawing random figures with his hand in the air. “Stealing another person’s heart, I mean. Metaphorically, I suppose it could be done…”

  Nin smirked. He had yet to fall head over heels in love with anyone, let alone a human. It seemed to be an endless game that was more trouble than it was worth. He had to look no further than his cousin, Tavia, to view the effects.

  Nin wondered if Anya would’ve been as bold if she knew he was of noble blood. In Elven lore, elves were a higher order of the human race—with High Elves right at the top, in the order of social structure. That was his status, by birthright.

  Social status. Nin reacted with vehemence, to the words. A strict adherence to the laws of hierarchy didn’t seem to work for humans or elves. It always resulted in a stratified society marked by inequality, by differences among people that were regarded as being in a “higher” or “lower” class. Nin dreamed of a utopia, where happiness was more important than financial gain, where both the human and Elven races took responsibility for their actions, and practiced peace and kindness because it was morally right, not because they were “following the rules.”

  But he knew that was being too idealistic.

  * * *

  Anya headed off to the nearest train station, alone—Leticia had her own plans.

  Anya alighted several stops later at Le Marr, in the outskirts of the other side of town, away from the bright lights of Zouk City. She held a small, brown paper bag in one hand. In it was a cardboard gift box, with the diamond orb she and Leticia had taken earlier in the day.

  She received a text message on her cell:

  Up escalator—left side.

  She did as she was told. A medium-built bearded man dressed in drab business attire casually greeted her with a nod. He looked like he had been wearing the outfit throughout his entire career. Only his watch stood out, a red gold luxury timepiece—and that’s because Anya was told to look out for it.

  The man walked beside Anya, out of the station. Dust swirled under the sullen sky. He kept in stride even as he shook off a crumpled page from a magazine that the wind slammed against his lower leg. He brought her to a narrow alley a few steps away, a blind spot which was hidden from view. Anya was careful to avoid getting cut by broken bottles, or tripping over other potentially hazardous forms of debris which littered the dingy pathway.

  “Here it is,” she said to him, when they came to a stop.

  The man beamed when Anya opened the lid of the cardboard box. He handed her a chic organic cotton bag he was holding (which had the “A : Mizuno” text logo on one side—Anya considered if she should save the bag for Tavia). She snuck a peek inside—there were two large envelopes packed with hundred-dollar notes inside.

  The man gave a formal bow, then left without a word. Anya wouldn’t even have known if he truly was mute.

  Anya sent a quick text to Leticia:

  Got it. 2 e’s. C ya l8r.

  Two envelopes—one for Anya, and one for Leticia. They shared the money amongst family members too. Leticia had a big family, and a few young siblings.

  Anya decided to pay her mother a quick visit, at Ashmore’s Seafood & Steak Diner one block away. The area looked seedier and more rundown than Anya remembered, from the last time she visited. Anya detected the faint odor of rancid oil in the air long before recognizing the diner’s signboard.

  In fact, she thought she was witnessing a robbery right there in front of her. A hooded, menacing man was talking to the owner of the 24-hour convenience store beside the diner, while a young couple walked out of the store with a couple of six-pack beers in hand. Anya knew they hadn’t paid for their items when the bald owner shouted an expletive and came running out of the store. He had a handgun in one hand, and a dirty sock in the other (the gun’s ‘case’, presumably). The guy with the hood dashed out and slapped the back of the store owner’s head, before taking off down
the street in the opposite direction of the young couple. Were the three of them in league?

  Anya ducked into the steak diner. She didn’t want to be hit by the bullets of a frazzled, maddened storeowner.

  “Annie!” A woman in her early forties, with a nametag that read “Chloe ACL,” came up. The second ‘c’ was almost completely scratched out. Few people knew that it stood for Chloe Aik Chien London, her full name.

  Anya exchanged a hug with her mother. Anya’s first thought each time she saw Chloe was how fragile she looked, like she’d topple over in a strong gust of wind. Eating more had never done much for Chloe’s 100-pound frame.

  “I didn’t know you were dropping by,” Chloe said affably, wiping her hands against her apron. It was a month or two since she had last seen Anya.

  “Yeah, I just thought I’d”—Anya moved towards an empty table at the far corner, shoulders tensing up—“say hi. I was in the area.”

  When Chloe sat down, Anya automatically handed her a wad of notes under the table, from one of the envelopes.

  Chloe’s eyes widened, before her lips quivered the slightest bit.

  “Anya.” Her voice was tense and hushed, as she shifted her gaze down and slowly shook her head. They had been through this several times in the past.

  “Just take it, Mom,” Anya murmured, drawing her hand back when a cyclist gazed in at the diner through the window, from the outside. “They pay you peanuts here.”

  Anya looked at her mother with eyes that knew too much. Chloe wasn’t lazy—she’d held three jobs at one time—but money was always tight, and steady employment, hard to come by. Anya was first in the family to attend college.

  “You’re going to get caught one day.” Anxiety was written all over Chloe’s pale, drawn face. Moments like this made her wonder if she had ever inspired or encouraged criminal activity in her daughter.

  “They’ve failed ten times already.” Anya put the cash in Chloe’s hand.