My mind always tends to wander while I'm walking. Put me behind the wheel? I'm fine. At a desk with paperwork? It's good. Being on the beat? I hate it so much. I could just dump this package at the side of the road and be on my merry way, but I don't know which way would be even remotely merry. Back into the city would end with me getting shot, more than likely. Out here? This is a brand new place for me to—
My train of thought immediately derails to the sound of decades-old punk rock being blared through a sound system. I knew that track. Fuzz Running, by Enter. An old squadmate from my time serving in the Eastern Conflict used to play this record nonstop in the barracks during downtime. I look up, and I see what he meant by not being able to miss it. Sidbano's Garage, all in big pink neon letters above a monolithic concrete building, with two loading bays to one side. I could've sworn that the music was being played from outside, but the closer I got to the building, I could tell that someone inside was looking for hearing damage.
I wasn't exactly given explicit instructions on where or who to give this to, so I figure my best option at this point would be to knock at the door, and pray to whoever's listening that I can be heard over the music.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
No response. I'm not going to leave this laying on their front doorstep.
THUMP. THUMP—
Before I can get my third knock in, the door swings open. The music blares even louder now. Dyed blue hair—deep sapphire or something like that—in an asymmetrical cut, with the length on one side being enough to cover one of her obvious luminescent aqua cybereyes. She's got the kind of look across her face that could slice a pane of glass in half without shattering it. Maybe it was a bad time for me to knock. Maybe I should've waited. The dirty, oil-splotched tan coveralls she's got on tells me that I might've interrupted her in the middle of a fixer-upper.
“What do you want?”
Not the warmest of receptions. Whatever, I'm just helping the Doc out anyways. I lift up the package to show her. “Package from The Hole for Sidbano's garage.”
“Oh.” She gives me the old up and down stare. Not subtle at all. “Wait here.”
“Sure.” It's not like I got anywhere else to be. She closes the door in my face. A good thing too, at least it muffles the music again.
The door swung open before I even had the chance to adjust my posture. The same girl again. She holds her hand out. I see two credchits, one white and one black. I take both of them and hand her the package.
“Black one's for the Doc. White one's for you.”
A part of me wants to return it to her, but another part is telling me to swallow my pride and just accept it. I do need the creds. “Thanks.”
She gives me another up and down look. “Nice T-shirt.”
“Oh, tha—” She's already closed the door in my face again.
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I make my way back to The Hole. Not so much of a journey, now that I know where I'm going. Rain starts to drizzle. I pick up the pace, not wanting to get caught under the shower.
The erratic blinking of The Hole's signage greets my approach. I quickly make my way down the slickening steps and inside the clinic. The Doc is sitting behind the secretary's desk, fiddling with his commlink. Still with the surgical mask and goggles.
“Job's done, Doc.” I ruffle my hair to get the rain droplets out.
“Thank you, Mr. Chambers. I believe you are now well-acquainted with the area?”
“Starting to. A few more trips and I should be good.”
“Ah, does that mean you have decided to stay, then?”
“I—” Got to admit, the old man is good. He got me right where he wanted. Ah, what the hell. I might as well lay low here for a while before making any big moves. “Yeah, I have.”
“Excellent! A strapping young man like yourself will greatly help the clinic. Now, tell me, did you encounter any problems at the garage?”
“Aside from actually finding the place? Not really, just a simple drop-off and exchange. Oh, right.” I rummage through my pocket and pull out the black and white credchits. “Girl who opened the door said the black one is yours. She gave me this white one.”
The Doc takes the black one and pockets it immediately with no questions. He looks over the white one. “Have you checked the amount inside this?”
I rub my scarred temple. “Not really. I'm in the process of deciding between keeping or ditching my old commlink so I have no way to check. I'm concerned they'll trace my location through it if I turn it on.”
“A reasonable concern.” The Doc opens a drawer and pulls out an Orsa Ronin. Brand new and still packaged. I can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Feel free to use this one for the time being. It is not as good as the one you have, but I will see if our resident techie can do something about removing any trackers.”
I pick up the packaged commlink from the desk. “Thanks, Doc. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Coincidentally, yes! You see, in my excitement of finishing paperwork, I forgot about dinner. I am sure you are famished by now as well.”
Now that he mentions it, I could sure use some food. I did pass by a few stalls that caught my appetite earlier. “You got it, Doc. I'll be right back.”
“Ah, you silly boy. You want to go out in the rain? Just turn on your new commlink and order anything you'd like.”
“What?”
“Just order what you'd like. Drone delivery service reaches well beyond this clinic.”
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I still have my doubts but I do as the Doc says, ripping the Orsa packaging open and turning the commlink on. After plugging in the white credchit to check the amount—a whole two hundred creds, which is a bit much for a simple drop-off—I stare at the screen, not sure where to even begin.
“—I forgot that you are still unaccustomed to the fact that modern amenities exist here, my dear boy. If you connect to the Willowville matrix hub, you can see the list of nearby vendors. And plenty of other things, but for now, our stomachs take precedence!”
I do as he says again and connect to the hub. Shit, he wasn't lying. This is an actual, fully functional matrix hub, complete with AR interface. I swipe around a few times and navigate towards the Food & Beverages section. Some of these names are stalls I saw on my walk earlier. Some are even actual restaurants, from the looks of it. I'm spoiled for choice. “I'll take a while to decide, but did you want anything in particular, Doc?”
Maybe it's just me, but I swear he's smiling at my reaction underneath that surgical mask. “A simple meal for a simple man such as myself. Beef noodle stir fry from the Old Wok.”
I drag the Doc's order into the AR shopping cart, and decide to get myself a large pepperoni pizza from a place called DiMaggio's. Maybe I'm playing it too safe. “Food should be here in less than thirty minutes. Wow, they even—”
“—guarantee it's less than thirty minutes or we eat for free? Of course.” Now I'm sure he's smiling wide. “It is the nature of things.”
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We end up not getting that free meal. I have to give bonus points for the speedy delivery, courtesy of a pair of Teville-Devon Enterprises Flügelträger drones. I'm more used to seeing Flügelgeists—TDE's military-grade combat drone—but I'd be lying if I said the sight didn't surprise me. Then again, this place has been nothing but surprises so far.
I flip open the lid of my prize, a large cardboard box bearing the DiMaggio's logo. Okay, maybe I wasn't entirely accurate. I did get something for free. Free anchovies on my pepperoni pizza. Another surprise, but not the kind I like. I'm retracting the bonus points I gave earlier. I grab a slice and take a bite. Okay, you know what? Being fair, it's pretty good.
I glance to the side and see the Doc not touching his food. He's busy swiping around the air instead. Must be AROs set to private, because I can't see shit. I return to minding my own business and grab another slice. Can't help but wonder if Saba is doing any better than I am. I hope she is.
A soft chime coming from the secretary's desk prompts me to look up. “My dear boy, can I trouble you with getting the door? I am almost done with what I have to do.”
“No trouble at all, Doc.” I put down the half-eaten slice back in the box and push myself up. Old-school with deadbolts and a few extra latches. I guess it's better than nothing out here. I do my best to unlock them as fast as I can. “The Doc will be with you in a sec—”
It's her. The blue-haired girl from Sidbano's. My turn to give her the up and down look. Turnabout's fair play and all. She's traded the oil-splotched coveralls for a cropped jacket, worn over a hoodie with the hood down. Stab-proof, from the looks of it. I stop myself when my gaze falls on her legs. Bobrovnikov's face runs through my mind for a moment. Cyberlegs, but not subtle like the big guy's. Digitigrade form factor that somehow gives off a sense of elegance and poise. Chrome in the literal sense, all loud and proud and not even bothering with a covering of synthskin.
I'd ask myself if I'm still any good as a detective for missing these during our first encounter, but getting the door shut in my face twice didn't exactly give me a chance for an in-depth observation.
Her foot taps against the plascrete with a metallic click-clack, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you done staring, Mr. Nice T-Shirt? Can I come in now?”
Fuck. Play it off. “—Yeah.”
I step aside and look back up. She doesn't seem as annoyed as she sounds, at least, if the little smirk on her face is anything to go by. I close the door behind me, relatching everything and sliding the deadbolt back in place.
I sit back on the bench in the reception area and pick up my half-a-slice. I try my best to ignore the anchovies' texture and glance in the direction of the secretary's desk. The Doc seems to have put away all his AROs, and—
He's looking straight at me. “My dear boy, might I ask you to keep watch for a short moment? I will be in my office with our guest.”
I nod and swallow the piece I was chewing on. “Sure thing, Doc.”
I lean against the wall after they both left. Time to gather my thoughts. Setting the obvious aside that my team got designated as the fall guys, at least half of us got away. Two people, which isn't much, but it's something. The ‘why’ doesn't really matter right now, it's the ‘how.’ Unless I get my team's name cleared, there's zero chance we're getting back inside Aurora Hills. Not sure if I can even do anything from out here.
I sigh. Laying low and slumming it here is my best bet. Heh, slumming it. This place is not at all like what the corpaganda bullshit we've been fed says. At least, this part of the Slag. Running water, power… hell, this place has stable matrix connectivity. A part of me feels real dumb for calling them backwater hicks. I'll have to go around tomorrow and mark important places aside from The Hole and Sidbano's garage. Maybe I can start at—
“—boy. My dear boy.”
My train of thought screeches to a stop like someone pulled the emergency brakes for no reason. I look up to see Doc's goggles in front of my face. “Huh?”
“I apologize for interrupting your moment of contemplation. But—” He gestures behind him with a tilt of his head. “Proper, formal introductions are in order.”
I look over his shoulder. The girl from Sidbano's stares at me with a blank expression. I stare back. The Doc looks back and forth, staring at both of us. No one is saying anything.
“Why are—åh, gud i himlen. I will do it for you two. Chambers, this is Springbok, one of the tech specialists we have here.” I nod and the Doc turns to Springbok. “Springbok, Chambers. A recovering patient, and owner of the commlink you'll be sweeping.”
She also nods. Springbok. An unusual name, but it's definitely just a nickname or callsign of some sort. My gaze shifts to her cyberlegs for a moment. I can see where the name comes from; a bit too on the nose, though.
I have no doubts she caught where my eyes went, but I'm taking the initiative this time. “Just Lucas is fine. ‘My dear boy’ also works, but only if you're the Doc.”
“Lucas. Good. Mr. Nice T-Shirt was a mouthful anyways.” She pulls out my commlink from her jacket pocket. “So what's the deal with this? Just get rid of any trackers and whatnot, right?”
“Yeah. That's about it. I just don't want my location to get traced.”
She turns my commlink around in her hand a few times. “Who'd you piss off anyways?”
The Doc clears his throat forcefully. “It is best not to prod a lone wolf, Springbok.” Yeah, real subtle there, Doc. “Wounded it may be, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous.”
Shit, he made that sound so badass. Springbok seems to have put two and two together. Good.
“Springbok.”
“Lucas.”
“I don't care if you snoop around the contents while you do your thing. Just… keep everything intact, alright?”
She pockets my commlink and gives me a look. If I had to describe it in any way, it's curiosity, mixed with… something else. I can't really place it, and I don't like that.
I break eye contact and grab a slice of pizza from my box. Just holding it for now.
“Alright, well. I'll bring your 'link here when I'm done.”
“I should be here most of the time.” This is getting a bit too awkward. I guess there's no harm in reciprocating. “If you ever need anything, just let me know.”
She nods, pulls her hoodie up, and heads for the door.
I put my slice back in the box. That could've gone worse. Probably.