Zax could help harmonise Shelly’s body, theoretically, but neither she nor Garuza could help his own activation. The confirmed surgeon was also afflicted by blank page syndrome, but this part was more easily taken care of.

“It happens.” The coach reassured her. “A customer wants to activate, but doesn’t know what they want to work on, leaving us with too many options. It’s a sad but unavoidable consequence of our society. The worst are those who don’t even care what they get as long as they get something.”

“Sorry.” Zax lowered his eyes.

“Oh, uh… Not sure that’s still your case.” Realising how accusatory it might sound, the fur-bird quickly amended himself. “I’m not even sure you want to activate anymore. You said something about mental scars blocking your activation, and making a life for yourself?”

“I’ve given up on my childhood fantasies, but I’m not opposed to having a little something. Just to prove I can.” He clumsily shrugged. “I’m not putting my life on hold to make it happen though.”

In the end, they elected against the mutual coaching idea. Shelley bought a full B-box, programmed to monitor her body and highlight the inharmonious parts. She would work on harmonisation herself; the Dojo-arcade had all the equipment and knowhow required. She paid for the box and immediate re-ingestion of nanites up front, which was expensive even by Resident’s standard, and she would pay the rest when Zax delivered the custom monitoring software. He could build it up from his diagnostic software, so it shouldn’t take long. One day at most, and he wouldn’t have to come in person.

Aran was having fun, so he suggested she stay while he went to his next appointment, but she would have none of it. A message for Bathor in case she passed by, and off they went. They had a precise target this time, so they could take the public transports and they quickly arrived.

Using physical units to pay still felt so uncomfortable and impractical.

The Disfavoured’s community centre had more people roaming around than the previous day, which was reassuring. Unless their presence had nothing to do with Zax’s deal.

“Hey guys.” Vester intercepted them on the way to the receptionist, with a shocking guest behind him.

“SG!?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Helping.” The feathered girl muttered.

The winged girl had concluded her workday at the shop, closed it without issue and came directly. She had hoped to play with the children again, but today wasn’t a daycare day.

She hadn’t been idle though, there was apparently a lot to prepare for their arrival. The local Residents were cagey and aloof with her, but Vester acted as a guide and buffer to smooth out any issues.

Zax and Aran didn’t forget to congratulate their friend for coming on her own; they were so proud of her.

They sent word to Azar about their arrival, but he and the others heads were too busy organising everything to come and talk. There was only one thing left to do: lend a hand.

As they were moving and sorting tables, shelves and boxes, they kept talking about different topics. Vester’s scan came up.

“Biologically, I couldn’t detect any significant change from your last scan. But! I noticed something weird with the helpers’ energy consumption.”

“Energy consumption? You see that too?”

“Of course. Energy management is crucial to use them to their full potential. Anyway, comparing it to my living test subjects, there was- fine! Straight to the end then.” He cut himself when the audience visibly lost interest. “I think nothing physical changed because something intangible and unmeasurable has. It affects your whole body – or I wouldn’t have noticed – so I figure it’s in preparation for an incoming general change. It fits with your recent change of lifestyle, life goal, general views...”

“What does that mean?” Aran quizzed, filling the box between SG’s wings with a variety of broken lamps and LEDs.

“Yeah, how would that even work?” Vester frowned.

“It’s just speculation, but the way I see it, the 3G in your body is ‘weakly’ or ‘partially’ activating, so that when you reach a certain threshold it will activate immediately. It could be a way to lock the future activation in a certain path.”

“Neat.”

“My second theory is a meta-physical activation. Like, rewriting your karma, your fate, your spiritual self. Or something like that. Realigning with the new you, maybe? Even if not meta-physical, still something outside the standard dimensions we interact with. It’s a running theory: the reason the 3G can only be detected by living creatures is a spiritual part they don’t have, and that’d be where the 3G exists.”

“Sounds like science fiction.”

“Or a pseudo-religion.”

“Eh, maybe.” The hobbyist smirked. “But we know so little about the 3G, all possibilities are as plausible as the next. We tend to forget it, but we still have no idea of what that substance is, how it’s produced, or how it does its thing.”

Eventually, everything was ready and everyone gathered in the reception hall. It didn’t appear conscious, but the only two advanced mutants ended up isolated on a side. The distance was not large, without the occasional accusatory looks to the visiting pair of non-advanced mutants who didn’t respect said distance, Zax and Aran would have missed it.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Without the hustle and bustle, there seemed to be less people than gauged when they arrived. Seven people, plus the leaders. Enough to pay for three major fixes, a doze, minor fixes, or hundreds of diagnostics.

Azar stood in front of the group with his secretary-daughter and another man who hadn’t been around during the previous day.

“Alright team, great job as usual. Take a rest now, we’ll call you when the dotter arrives. He shouldn’t take long now, so don’t go too far.”

The crowd started to disperse before the visitors could process the mistake in his words.

“You, bird girl. Do you know when he’s coming?” Azar turned his head to SG without moving from his spot.”

As nonplussed as the others, she briefly glanced at Zax.

“Seventy-eight minutes ago.” Zax waved his hand and answered the question. “One of your people send us to help Vester and SG. They assured you’d be warned, but I guess the message was lost in transition.”

“Doubtful.” He replied, unimpressed. “Anyways. You already know Agni, and here is Skoret.” He introduced the third man. The grey of his eyes was typical of the reflection of a brain mutation, but he still looked like a typical middle-aged man. “He’s our liaison to the block’s management. I contacted them to help with your private deals.”

After a few pleasantries, they moved to the meat of their presence:

“We have sorted and recorded everything the best we could. Here’s a hierarchised list.” The red-haired man showed an e-slate. Like a tactile screen, but quite thick. Old school, but not paper. “It’s sorted by priority. The numbers on the right will tell us where to find them, we’ll bring it to you. Or you to them.”

“Convenient. Give me a sec.” Zax answered as he took the ancient device.

He examined the list and modified it where needed. Adding filters by date of acquisition and nature of disfunction and reparation seemed like a given. He would add others as required. He also noticed the section Vester and them had set was in the lowest priority section.

Interesting, he would have thought industrial printers would be more important in the Circle. At least more important than children’s water games.

“I guess the first template will pay for identification and diagnostic? Should be enough for the all the first section. Or are you sure enough of the top of the list you’d rather go straight to repairs?” Having downloaded a copy of the list in his brain, he handed the slate back.

“No, diagnostic first. We won’t lack volunteers to pay you.”

Why did that sound ominous?

Not lacking resources sounded like a foreign concept in the old man’s mouth. Independently, Zax was sceptical about that claim; some volunteers would pay for a personal service.

“Alright, let’s go. I made a few changes to your list and I linked it to a file explorer. I’ll update it before I leave. Or as I go if you leave the slate with me. I also added a data packet I think you should watch. Not related to our deal, it’s purely personal.”

It was the recording of his and Aran’s arrival, from seeing the flurry of activity to being assured the heads would be warned of their presence and being send to help Vester and SG.

It might be petty, but he hadn’t appreciated the man’s “Doubtful” reaction.

The side meeting room from last time had been emptied to serve as a more permanent workshop. Strange choice considering the placement, but they must have had their reasons. Now, it had a work stool with a compartment for tools, a wide but light and easily moveable table, and several similar tables folded against empty sorting cabinets on the side. The stool’s compartment contained common basic tools; screwdrivers, wrenches and pincers. All metal and silicon. The free space made it feel empty, but it was an appropriate start. It would be filled soon enough, and Zax had brought his B-Box.

Azar and his colleagues elected against a public demonstration of extracting Vester’s nanites, so it was done while the first load of faulty items was brought in. Afterwards, he and the two other dotters were asked to leave, for privacy.

The first volunteer arrived when Zax was halfway through the first box. He had green hair and eyes but brown eyebrows, which would have been fascinating if not for the obvious dye. He didn’t have any apparent mutation, and he had no idea what his few activations so far had done, so it was probably a general metabolic enhancement. Not much for a database, but he more than compensated with his answers about their lifestyle, his comments about their pop culture and his own questions about the dot.

Zax couldn’t tell if it was on purpose, but he was an excellent choice to establish a baseline.

Thus was spent the rest of the day; mixing the two main aspect of his life, taking care of malfunctioning items and setting nanites for incoming templates.

Overall, satisfying and productive.

***

“We have reviewed your mission reports. Congratulations on your progress.”

Bathor and the rest of the team tried not to squirm under their supervisor’s stare, some more successfully than others. For each of them, being individually summoned was common, and never a pleasant experience. Being called as a group was a first. Being praised was absolutely unheard of.

Actually, it was highly out of character for that fatso they had to toil under. Did he have a stroke?

“We never expected to find the originator. Interesting idea, we’d have never considered that.”

Ah, there it was.

Flattering words, lessened with a demeaning delivery, expression, and body language. Nothing would appear on a transcript, but none of the recipients would have their spirits lifted. As a negotiator, she could appreciate the artistry in successfully making someone feel less for being successful. Sometimes, she wondered how he would handle someone on the spectrum.

Shaking those thoughts, the group’s mediator and de facto spokesperson focused back on the present:

“Thank you, sir. He has history with the Circle, but we’re hoping convert him to our cause sooner than later.”

“Yes, the reports mentioned of it. Don’t worry, it won’t be necessary.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“As I said, we never expected to find the origin, that’s why you had this mission.” And that unspecified ‘we’ again. “Now, there are more options, and the higher ups have decided to step in personally. They’ll settle the issue. Definitely.”

“That means-”

“That means you don’t have to worry about it anymore.” The fatso curtly concluded. “Take a few days to rest, and come back for your next assignment.”

The team left the room, overjoyed, but Bathor couldn’t quite appreciate it. Something was nagging at her mind. When had partially satisfying results ever been rewarded? Sure, there would be empty words, promises of a bonus or higher chances of promotion in an unspecified future, but paid leave? An unspecified amount at that? Something was wrong, it felt more like… a distraction?

He never called it a paid leave either. They’d have to check before cashing it in, but it wasn’t the cause of her unease.

There were rumours about what it actually meant when the higher ups “personally stepped in”. Outlandish rumours, but somehow coherent among themselves.

She normally didn’t heed such things, but Zax had raised concerns she still didn’t have answers for. No answers that wouldn’t make her feel like a bad person, anyway. And they… uncannily fit with the pattern of the grapevine.

Is he in danger?