by Bogi Takács
“Yes, you were.” She sighed, hands on his shoulders for a moment before slowly, gently taking the cake (almost bigger than the boy who’d saved it) and placing it on the kitchen counter, out of reach of any flailing animal appendages. “Now. Dandy!” She let out a sharp whistle.
A huge, black canine head appeared around the doorway to the living room, bright blue eyes wide. They didn’t need to be human, or even organic, to look guilty as hell.
“Over here.” She patted one thigh and pointed at the floor. “Leave the kitty alone, it’s a work-in-progress.” She could still hear somewhat grating hostile feline noises and caught a flash as it ran past at the end of the hall; it must still be in a panic and trying to escape.
Dandy didn’t move, but his head drooped a little lower.
“I know, boy, you’re just doing what you know best. But you know you’re not supposed to play with—”
“These should be enough,” Rose said from behind her with a bowl full of fresh, huge strawberries. Surprised, Danae turned to see her wife entering through the kitchen door that led outside, not the open doorway she’d left through before. “Serena didn’t feel like letting me borrow any more berries, so I thought I’d—”
“Rose, look out!”
“What?” Rose looked up sharply at the alarm in Danae’s voice—so she didn’t see the cat shoot between her steel ankles and disappear outside.
“No—no!” Danae’s face fell, then her eyes widened as a huge black shape careened past her and directly toward Rose. Danae launched herself into the air, landing on Toto-Dandy’s back and tackling him to the floor. “Dandy, stay!”
“Was that your new project?” Rose had fallen back against the counter, still clinging to the bowl of strawberries like they were precious gems. Or perhaps a flotation device, in case of an emergency landing. Jack had climbed down from his chair and seemed unsure whether to laugh at the strange sight, be nervous because his parents were, or both.
“Yeah! It was!” Danae struggled to keep her biggest and, right now, most infuriating creation pinned to the floor. The second he threw her off his back, he’d chase directly after the cat—she had to admit, Dandy’s instincts there were flawless. Though right now he seemed more like a mechanical bull than a wolf. “Took me six months! Almost done! Special stealth alloy! If it’s lost, gonna turn this one into a weedwhacker!”
“Okay.” Rose set down the bowl and chewed her lower lip, looking up at the kitchen wall clock. “Half an hour until Evelyn’s show closes. You stay here, finish the cake! I’ll find the cat!” Rose called over her shoulder as she dashed through the door, leaving it open behind her. A second later her head poked back through. “Everything’s going to be okay!” Slam.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Danae muttered, still holding onto the thrashing metal wolf at least twice her size, wrestling him across the kitchen floor and back toward her workshop to cool down. “Come on, boy! Work with me! Jack, can you—”
“Dandy!” Jack was already at the workshop door, holding it open and waving. “In here, please!”
Toto-Dandy’s triangular ears perked up immediately at the sound of his voice. He moved across the kitchen and down the short hallway so fast that he dragged Danae a few steps before she let go, flopping onto the floor. She lay there for a few seconds, seizing the opportunity to rest and take a quick breather. Then she sat up to see Jack reach up to pet Dandy’s thick neck fur and get a face-lick in return; the giant synthetic wolf allowed the little boy to gently steer him through the door and shut it behind him, and Jack turned around with a triumphant grin.
“He listens to me.”
“Maybe next time I’ll just ask you to pass on a message,” Danae said, wondering if her guard dog’s priority subroutines were enough out of alignment to tinker with, or cute enough to leave. Maybe she’d just practice giving off a more confident Alpha vibe. Danae never felt right about messing with any of her creations’ heads, not if she could meet them halfway. Especially with something as easy as saying “please.” That was what Jack had done, she realized. It was the magic word, after all. “Anyway, got that under control. Now it’s time for the fun part,” she said with a conspiratorial grin. “Just gotta stick the berries on…”
“And then what?” His eyes grew round with anticipation.
“And then you get to lick the bowl!” She giggled when he did, relieved that they’d managed to get the day back on track. “Then we wait for Mama Ev to get home—and ahhhh, the look on her face! It’s gonna be sw—”
As they came back into the kitchen, something flew directly at Danae’s face. It hit before she even had time to scream.
Outside and a few blocks away, two men headed down the narrow, smoky residential back street. Unlike most people in Parole who found themselves walking outside this close to sundown, they didn’t hug the inner edge of the sidewalk or peer around corners, glance over their shoulders as they walked, or even seem in all that much of a hurry, despite their destination. Or the sheer number of Eyes in the Sky who would love to see the both of them dead.
Nobody knew how many members made up the infamous CyborJ Syndicate. Nobody knew what the elusive leader of the cyber-revolutionary group looked like, or if the virtuosic hacking force in question was one person at all. Rumor and speculation abounded as to his—or her—or their—identity, ranging from single allegations to long lists of names.
The only known facts came from observation. Ten years of devastatingly effective virtual blows against Eye in the Sky, and meticulously rebuilt electronic infrastructure. Parole had a working internet free of policing and surveillance thanks to their tireless efforts. And nothing, not even super-powered resistance, had saved more lives than their organization’s flawlessly synchronized operations. They moved with surgical precision, leading city-wide simultaneous strikes coordinated in perfect unison. CyborJ was everywhere at once, appearing like a ghost out of thin air, leaving a wake of technological devastation and/or wonders—and vanishing without a trace.
The most popular theory was that “CyborJ” was actually an elite group within the Syndicate, comprised of at least ten and as many as fifty individuals.
But sometimes the truth was stranger than fiction. Sometimes it was more mundane. Sometimes it was both at the same time.
“Listen, Stef, babe, towering teddy-bear cyber-pirate sentinel who guards my slumber and my heart and my nerd-cave—which is pretty much my heart, and also my brain—much as I love Evelyn, and I do, I really do, she’s a freakin’ delight…they know I can’t stay away from the command center for more than a couple hours, right? Wait, they know who I am, right? I don’t know if I’ve actually told Rose directly who I am. And they didn’t tell anybody who I am? Right?”
The mysterious—but definitely singular—entity known as CyborJ pushed his black mirrored sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose and pulled the strings on his gray hoodie a little bit tighter, stuffing his long black hair more firmly down into the neck. He cracked his black-gloved knuckles a few times, a nervous habit, then tugged at the straps of his backpack, adjusting them to better center the long, irregularly shaped gift-wrapped box that stuck out and far above his head. He walked quickly down the street with long-legged, slightly off-kilter strides, pulled off-balance by the unwieldy package.
“Oh man, I can’t even remember how much they know about me. Stefanos, how much do they know about me? My brain’s so fried right now. It’s been a weird month…year. Maybe it’d be easier if I really was like fifty people or whatever everybody thinks now. I mean, I made ’em think that, but…”
He was definitely only one person: a tall but slightly hunched at the shoulders (terrible posture even without the backpack and long gift-wrapped box), thin (even without regularly forgetting to eat) young Tsalagi Native American man in dark shades and a baggy, faded sweatshirt and torn jeans, moving in a vaguely forward direction, but also constantly zigzagging and trying to look in every direction at once, all while obviously trying to ap
pear as casual and normal as possible. It didn’t work. In Parole, like everywhere else, nothing tended to attract attention like such obvious attempts to avoid it. And right now he was looking more than a little on-edge and hyper-vigilant. Beneath that, exhausted, and like he wasn’t quite used to being out on the physical street, like he’d just stumbled out into a brave new century after cryogenic stasis, unfamiliar with the world in general. Or maintaining balance while walking.
Sometimes it was amazing how somebody so brilliant and powerful in one arena could be so vulnerable and make such an easy target in another. Fortunately, he wasn’t alone.
“Take a breath, Jay. You’re fine, they know, I’m not walking you into any place we can’t walk right back out of.” The second, much larger man beside him also walked just a hair’s breadth behind, ready to extend one arm in case he tipped right over backwards thanks to the backpack and its top-heavy center of gravity…and the simple fact that stranger things had been known to happen when CyborJ abandoned his nerve center and started to walk down physical corridors instead of virtual ones. Things occasionally got…unexpected. “This is why you need to relax a little more, especially while I’m gone. Talk to people. Breathe some relatively fresh air.”
“I should know this,” Jay continued, only half-listening. “I mean, Danae has to know who I am, right? So that means Evelyn knows. So Rose—no, mistake to assume anything, we know that. Standard story? I’m in the top ten Syndicate members? That might be safer…”
“It’s all right, they know who you are,” Stefanos said, deep voice level and calming. “And no, they haven’t told a soul. They know the score, believe me. I made sure of it. They’re safe. But if you get there and something feels off, we can bail.”
“Okay, good.” Jay spun on his heel three-sixty degrees to look around the entire street. Stefanos kept his catching arm ready, just in case. “Just making sure.”
“We’re not being followed. You can relax.” He wasn’t dramatically taller but he was much more substantially built, broad shoulders and thick muscles dwarfing Jay’s thin frame. Long, thick, curly black hair fell down his back, and his equally thick beard fell almost as far down to his chest. Like Jay, he wore loose, dark-gray and neutral clothes that were easy to move and easier to hide in—but he would have had trouble blending in no matter where he went. It wasn’t because he had scales or wings or anything one might expect in Parole; his difference was both more subtle, and more significant. It had been ten years since UV light had filtered through the barrier, and most people who lived in Parole tended to be unhealthily pale and develop vitamin-D deficiencies without the use of personal sun lamps. His visible skin was a healthy tanned bronze, as if he’d been out in full, unobscured sunlight recently.
“Oh, you relax, you’re the one looking at me like I’m about to fall over! I’m not about to—okay, thank you for that. I think it’s these shoes. They’re outside shoes. I’m outside. Anyway, I know, I’ve got like thir… sixteen checks and fail-safes in place right now, but I just wanna make sure. Nothing beats my plain old eyeballs. I mean, maybe except for yours.”
“I doubt it,” Stefanos chuckled. “I might have spectral scans and infrared, but you see the strings that control the system. And those are tougher to pick out.”
When Stefanos smiled, his eyes glittered in a quite literal sense. They were golden, metallic, obviously synthetic, with several rotating rings around the pupils’ exteriors that spun as he focused near and far like telescopic camera lenses. Occasionally, other rings or metallic shutters would flicker in front of his gleaming metal eyes, switching the lenses into a new mode or rotating them in a different direction. The gyroscopic optical implants were wonders of engineering, and even if he didn’t quite seem to belong in Parole, they certainly did.
“Feel better?”
“Mm.” Jay still looked nervous despite the empty street, but he nodded. “Parole will just have to get by without my watchful eyes and guiding hands for a few hours.”
“It’ll be fine. Everyone knows you’re very busy and in high demand,” Stefanos assured him. “They’re honored you emerged just for one day.”
“Hey, they should be.” Jay stopped walking and flicked his sunglasses down to look over their lenses for a moment, raising his eyebrows. “That sounded snarky but I mean it, I don’t leave my darkness and keyboards for just anybody. Only for emergencies, and family occasions.”
“And which one is this?” Stefanos’ tone wasn’t as quick or energetic, but just as dry.
“Well, if it was anyone else throwing the party, I’d say emergency.” Jay shrugged with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Actually, I wouldn’t say anything at all, I’d already be running. But…your family is mine.”
“Yes, they are.” Stefanos reached out to pull Jay close, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and giving him a squeeze. As he did, his sleeve slipped up and his hand caught the light of a pale streetlamp. It gleamed dully metallic, artificial but in effortless motion, made of as many intricately articulated working parts as his optical implants’ myriad gyroscopic rings. “Danae’s been looking forward to seeing you again as much as me.”
“See, that’s not even fair, we both got genius sisters, but yours actually likes you.” Jay dropped his head and pulled his hood a little bit tighter to hide his rising blush. “And me. Dunno how I got that lucky. And, okay, Maureen would definitely like you, so there’s that. And not just in a ‘wow, look at your cool eyes and arm and leg’ way—I mean, she would, the nerd—but like, as a person and junk. Ha, after ten years, we might even get along a little better.”
“We’ll all find out one day. Soon.” Stefanos shut his golden eyes for a moment to the sound of a clearly audible whir. “But for tonight, don’t worry, we won’t stay the whole time. And if you start to need some air, let me know. They’ll understand too.”
“Oh, I know they will, they’re all good ladies. But maybe…” His confident tone faltered for the first time. “I mean, I’m who-I-am, that’s a handy excuse right there. The city always needs saving from the clutches of evil. I’d just—I don’t want ’em to think I don’t want to be there. I do. But if I start to feel zidgy, I’ll—I don’t know, tug my ear or something, so you’ll know…”
“Urgent cyber-revolutionary business. I’ll excuse us, politely.”
“Awesome. I’ll definitely say some awkward, anxious nerd bullshit the second I open my mouth—so thanks for doing the talking.”
“Any time. I do appreciate you coming with me, Jay.” Stefanos’ tone dropped slightly, and Jay looked up, attention caught by the change. “Evelyn Calliope deserves one good day. More. Not just because of all the good days she’s given Parole. And not just because she’s my sister-in-law. But just living her life, right in the spotlight? On the stage, off it? Being herself, here of all places?”
“Yeah, I gotcha.” Jay said in an uncommonly serious voice, though one now free of nervousness. “It’s…important, isn’t it?”
“Very.” Stefanos smiled, metallic eyes flashing like the sun nobody in Parole had seen clearly in ten years. “Seeing somebody like yourself not only walk through fire and keep walking—and come out the other side a superhero, bulletproof, the person they were always meant to be? Not just transition, and not just survive, but live and conquer? Makes you think maybe you can too. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without that woman.”
“Best domino effect ever.” Jay was smiling. “Guess I owe her a lot too.”
“And one happy birthday doesn’t begin to cover it, but we can at least make an appearance. I’ll give her my present and you can give her your…” Stefanos shot a glance at Jay’s oddly shaped gift. “Whatever it is you have there.”
“Excuse me. It’s called a key-tar.” Jay reached back to tap the end of the oblong package sticking out of his backpack. “An iconic instrument. Seminal. This one can do a cool holographic light show effect—well, it couldn’t, but I messed with it, now it can.”
“Uh-huh.”<
br />
“She’ll understand its musical importance, unlike other people.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Well, it’s more creative than a new microphone! You realize she probably has like six million microphones, right? And if she doesn’t, the Emerald Bar does. I’m not trying to criticize your gift, I’m just saying it’s not too late to put both of our names on—”
“Grappling hook.”
“What?”
“When you twist the base, it fires off a grappling hook.” Stefanos didn’t look down, but gave a slow, satisfied nod and kept walking. “Took me a while to find one. Took longer to find one that didn’t curve off to the left.”
“I… Of course.” Jay nodded after a second. “Because every girl needs a good grappling hook, why didn’t I think of that?”
“Might come in handy at her second job. Being a superheroine.” Now he shot Jay a look. “No, you’re not putting your name on it.”
“Mine’s still more fun.”
They walked in a comfortable silence for a few steps. Jay’s brief flare of anxiety from a moment before had faded, but after a moment, so did his smile.
“So when do you ship back out?” he asked, voice light, but the kind of studied lightness that covered something else. “Out to the great big outside world?”
“Next week. This run’ll be upwards of a month. Turret’s up to something big out there, and it’s going to take a little longer than usual to scope out exactly what.”
“You got any kind of hint? Or a plan? At all?”
“The world’s almost as big a mess outside Parole as it is inside. Turret’s to blame. The plan is damage control, that hasn’t changed.”
“So you’re just walking out there into who-knows-what like usual?”
Stefanos smiled at the combination of curiosity and frustration Jay made no effort to hide anymore. “I’m lucky the FireRunner still has clearance to leave freely at all. I’m almost starting to get the feeling that man doesn’t trust the Captain and me anymore.”