Two months later…
Executive officer Linfell strides into the War-Room. The place looks like ground control in the wake of a critical shuttle malfunction; crowded with enforcement officers, techs, and analysts chattering away to themselves, herding around screens, clogging up walkways.
All of whom clear a space as she makes her way across the room.
The noise in the room cuts in half as her two assistants follow in the executive’s wake.
She enters a private conference room, where her old friend is waiting. There is a single box on the table.
“This is it? This is all you found?” Linfell asks.
“They cleared the place out before we got there. But the apartment has a lost and found.” Roger says simply.
“We’ve been trying to catch these guys for twelve hours, and this is all we have to go on.” She sinks into a nearby chair with the grace and experience that comes from years of everyone in the room watching your every move, probing for any weakness.
“Yeah, but,” He pushes up his thick glasses as pulls something out of the box. “I think you’ll find this interesting.”
He slides a composition notebook across the table. A stylized R, a purple bird, and a dozen other doodles litter the cover. Linfell flips through it.
“The girl left her diary?”
“It would appear so. I read it already. It might set your mind at ease, and answer a few of your boss’s questions.”
“Couldn’t it be faked? She could’ve planted this to throw us off.”
“We can’t rule that out, of course, but I went through my daughter’s diary, when we thought she was into drugs. She writes like this, it’s very personal. It might prove insightful, at the least.”
She takes a breath.
“Fine, might as well. I need a break anyway.”
---
August 4th,
It’s been a month, and things haven’t been getting better.
The day after we got settled in and said our goodbyes to Joel and the others (they moved in with family further into the city), I started working construction, while Touch and the others stayed behind. We agreed we weren’t going to exploit our div companions for money. The work is just too taxing and dangerous everywhere.
I got lucky to get hooked up with a job even before I entered the city, but Touch wasn’t so lucky. It would take time to find a job that could also conceal his identity. He was just too recognizable, so in the meantime, he had to stay hidden.
Almost all of my wages over the next few weeks went to our living costs at the Village. And I was still coming up short, even with Touch working as staff to make up the difference. What little I kept was for miscellaneous supplies we might need later.
I come home most nights to find Touch burnt out and withdrawn from trying to find something to do. Whenever I asked about it, he would blow me off, telling me not to worry about it, and it’s not a big deal, that sort of thing.
I tried to respect his privacy at first, to let him work through it himself, but he didn’t get better.
So I start prying until he revealed that Xavier, Yani, and the senior members of the Little Village haven’t been letting him help out aside from menial, unskilled labor. Every niche they needed was already filled, and they don’t want some random guy from off the street helping with improvements or any serious work.
“I get it. I’d do the same in their shoes.” He said, “But it’s still exhausting, why not just-” then he sighed, “I’m going to bed.”
I get where he’s coming from. To know this is the right move logically, but still get twisted about it emotionally. He just really needs something to do. Something meaningful, something that uses all the skills he’s learned or teaches him new ones.
I don’t know how to help him.
I work almost twelve hours a day, exhausting work moving materials around and assisting the more experienced guys with whatever they need. I don’t have the time or energy to help him how he needs me to, and I hate it.
The work wasn’t meant to be exhausting and dangerous and for shit wages. The city’s in the middle of this huge expansion project and if the union that hired me didn’t take the job at the price they did, corporate contractors would pick up the slack.
And they didn’t hire fugitives or runaway divs.
Anyway, a few days later, Touch let me in on one of the many secret plans he’s got going through his head. He wanted me to buy some bandages so he can wrap up any exposed skin, and walk out in town. He already had a cover worked out and everything:
Touch was going to play my ‘dad’ who’s horribly disfigured and in pain from Aether. I play the devoted daughter, working to supply him medicine and eventually save up for medical treatment.
The reason we’re unregistered is because we can’t afford any of the taxes or insurance required, and my ‘father’ will die without constant treatment. There’s no record of the two of us in any database because this is how we’ve been living since the meteors fell. It wouldn’t help him find a job, but it would allow Touch to walk around the streets occasionally.
It’s a sympathetic, and common, enough story to hopefully keep curious people, and snooping guards, at bay. Working this all out by himself is what I guess kept him from going completely mental.
Shortly after we got the disguise prepared, and the story rehearsed, Xavier and Yani found him a job working the night shift on a project by the docks. He would watch over tools and materials with a few others as the secret muscle, the ace up their sleeve (or I guess the drain pipe) in case anyone tried to steal their stuff.
Touch took the opportunity to top off his disguise with a sturdy walking staff he brought from the docks, to look crippled and disarming while actually holding a formidable weapon.
But even with Touch working the night shift, the money was barely enough. We were stilling paying off the debt we accrued in the two weeks before he got his night job.
Touch was still growing more and more agitated over the course of the month. I thought he would get better once he had a job, but that didn’t seem to help. And as usual, he tries keeping it to himself, so I have to pry again! Like, why don’t you just tell me when I ask! Do you always try to blow me off? Like dude, I’m trying to help you here.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
So basically he said he feels trapped here, tied up. He’s been on the move constantly ever since he escaped the lab. Never staying in one place. He feels like any day someone is going to come crashing through that door and take him away. Like it’s only a matter of time before someone notices him, or someone here tries to cash his bounty.
“Up here,” he said, jabbing a gray finger to his stone temple. “I get that this is a haven for fugitives, and it’s unlikely that people will ruin what little they have here to turn me in. But here,” He runs his finger down to his chest, “I know that any of them can do it any time they want. A stranger can look my way at the wrong time, and I know my bounty is worth more than most. I don’t know or trust any of these people. I have to get out of here.”
Again, I get it. But how am I supposed to help him? How am I supposed to be there for him? No time, no energy, no money. We have no options.
He stopped writing and exercising, though I can’t remember exactly when. After he started his job, we even lost time to practice our sword play and train Dill and Arch. Now we only had the energy to curl up next to them after a long day.
Touch spends all of his spare time looking for a way out of here. But everything cost money, and we can’t scrape up enough to travel anywhere. Even with all the help we’re getting from the Little Village.
We’re lucky to have the Village. Plenty of people didn’t. And I’m lucky to have a union job. Plenty of jobs payed less, and gave their workers less rights. The unions simply don’t have the power they once did. Touch tried giving me a lecture about the workers’ rights movement, and how the collapse of the government and the advances micromanaging through technology basically reverted all that, but I kept zoning out honestly. Maybe that’s all I can do for Touch. Even if I don’t have an answer or a way to fix it, maybe I can just listen to him, let him know I'm here for him.
The situation in the towns outside AriCorp was growing worse. I’ve kept in touch with Tara, Ortega, Stephan, and found a few forums talking about it. I’m sure it’s a huge factor adding to his stress.
Tara said it was getting scary walking into town. Dozens of people had been turned in or violently apprehended over the weeks. The air was thick with hostility and suspicion. Corporate information gatherers would blatantly sit in at all the restaurants and bars and approach people to get any leads they could out of them. So she and James don’t go out anymore, unless they have to for deliveries or getting supplies.
Ortega had to shut down his illegal electronics hustle completely. He was thinking about resuming operations in secret until one of his go-betweens got snatched up. Now he’s keeping everything shut down.
They also started rolling out AriCorp currency. Dividing the towns further based on where such currency was accepted and who just laughed it off.
Stephan limits his business to his most loyal customers and the ones they vouch for. They haven’t found the hostel yet, but most people have left for greener pastures. Which is definitely for the best.
Towns were suffering, being smothered by the weight of AriCorp. Many drivers of their economy like divs, wandering workers like Touch, and people providing services like Ortega and Tara have been captured, driven underground, or driven out.
The mercenaries started issuing curfews, controlling when businesses and markets could open up so they can only operate when the mercenaries and militia were available to keep an eye on them. They cancel all large gatherings they didn’t approve beforehand.
AriCorp goons are trying to regiment, control, and monitor every part of people’s lives so they could hone in on any suspicious activity, and disrupt any unsanctioned operations and criminals in hiding.
After three weeks, Touch gradually relaxed when he started getting more money from his shift. It was just enough to settle their debt and start making a marginal profit. It'll still be months before we could travel, even for a short time. And that was if we didn’t get hit by a sudden expense in the meantime.
If we leave, our jobs would be gone in an instant. And there were no guarantees we could find others as good as this. I work at several projects across the city, depending on who needed people the most that particular day.
On my one day off for the week, I decided to go job hunting. Any real job require I be properly ID’d and registered, and my background with other corporations dug up, but there were rumors of people getting lucky and finding someone willing to make an exception. I scoured the nets for job boards and forums looking for a job. Anything I found was a blatant scam.
I talked with some co-workers I was friendly with throughout the week, and as many people from the Village that I could, they all said the same thing; if they knew of such a place, they wouldn’t be here. Though a few people mentioned they had friends or friends of friends that found such employment, but nothing useful.
---
“It seems she fell in with this new group of terrorists that burnt a couple of Sancam patrol cars. We got her on camera, breaking into the militia station and breaking out the member they apprehended.” Major Sanders says to his laptop.
“And they haven’t resurfaced yet? There hasn’t been any sign of them since the initial attack?” colonel Dunn replies from the confines the computer screen.
“No. I don’t know what they’re plotting next. Given the girl’s track record, it’s unlikely she’s fallen in with anyone who wasn’t serious. Ill stay on it. The breakout was highly organized. Done at the perfect time when militia were spread the most thin, with most of their personnel out searching for the terrorists, manning checkpoints and possible targets for a secondary attack. She even went right into the restaurant across the street and manipulated one of the militia to bring her in, without actually detaining her. It was masterfully done.”
“Given that, the situation with the ACUs, and how she disappeared, she is far more dangerous and resourceful than we could have imagined. Whatever she’s involved in, it must be big.”
“Was she with this ‘Golem’ character?”
“There was no sign of him during the breakout, or since they ran off together. My guess is that he’s acting as her guide, and keeping her hidden. He seems to be a master of evasion, having avoided capture for so long. It’s possible that this ‘Demon clan’ is the organization the Golem has been a part of this whole time, and they only just decided to surface. He might have recruited her. The vandalism and jail break must have been her initiation.
If I had to make a guess, they’ve all gone underground, training and gathering information. We need to keep up the pressure to root out any spies and disrupt any illicit networks they may have throughout the towns.
I’m getting reports that some criminals were apprehended when the local militia was tipped off about some camping shelters outside town. Maybe if we keep looking, we’ll find bigger shelters out there.”
---
Today, at the end of my fourth day off, I came home and found Touch before he left for his shift. From the look of him, I thought Arch died.
“They found the shelters…” He said. “I knew they would find them eventually, but I was hoping…”
“You’d have a home to come back to.” I said. He looks at me, and tears start running down his face. His face twitches has he tries in vain to keep himself in check.
I know what the shelters mean to him. Those shelters, run by nameless, faceless samaritans, had truly been his home for months, allowing him to roam free between the towns, undetected. It was so ingrained in him that travel meant safety and freedom, that he hated staying put. He was miserable here.
I rushed up to embrace him, to comfort him, as he did for me after the heist. He turned away and wiped his face. Despite his name, he still wouldn’t allow himself to be touched, even after all this time.
My guess is that only his arms were impenetrable. He carefully guarded his torso and head when we spared. And if his enemies ever knew that he wasn’t as tough as he was rumored to be…
AriCorp and some former Atla employees most likely knew, but criminals like Jonah didn’t. I don’t know why Ari-corp wouldn’t advertise his weakness. Maybe he was just ashamed, maybe the feel of another person through his stone skin made him uncomfortable. But he snuggled and pet Arch all the time.
I just wish he would trust me and let me in. I can’t stand to see the one friend I have right now shut me out. Especially when he was in pain. But why should he, if I didn’t trust him with mine? He is smart enough to have figured it out by now.
I was thinking about how to approach this topic when Touch suddenly said he needed to think, then he grabbed his pack and was out the door.
I trained and played with Dill and Arch while I waited for Touch. We no longer feel the need to shelter Arch and Dill. Whenever one of us was here, we let them roam free, but whenever we were both gone, they stayed in the apartment with the doors locked and watched over our gear. They were smart enough to open the windows and escape if they needed to. They understand speech and can comprehend basic plans, even if they can’t speak themselves.
They’ve been doing relatively fine this whole time. They get fed and washed regularly, and get adequate exercise and social time with the other animal type divs. Though their moods have definitely dampened to mimic me and Touch.
Anyway, the sun was setting and Touch hadn’t returned. I figured he’ll probably take his concealed route to work and show up early. I sighed and went about my evening routine before going to bed. And now I’m here… journaling… basically talking to myself because I have no one else to work this out with.