June

Blaring car horns woke June. A sudden breeze tickled her nose, heavy with the thick, rancid smell of the apartment’s dumpster. She scrubbed her face and blinked at the harsh morning light. Did I leave the window open? Why?

A child sat in her window, legs dangling out into the sky.

June blinked and wiped her face, but the kid didn’t vanish. Slowly, the events of the previous night came back. She groaned. What on earth was I thinking?

“Guess you didn’t run away,” June sighed, sitting up.

Sasha glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the world outside. He shook his head slightly.

In the tiny apartment, it only took a few steps to reach Sasha. She peered over his shoulder. A huge structure stood in the distance. Wide as a city block, it towered over the other buildings. Windowless white sides left no hint as to its function, but it barely mattered. Whatever it had been, it was no longer. Its top was severed. Ragged-edged, like a broken branch, it stood open to the elements. From here, she could just make out the pipes and electronics inside, a rusty mess after years in the elements. Cracks ran down the sides of the structure. Here and there, support cables and buttresses supported it, though what was left of it stood perfectly upright. A few cracks were poorly patched with some kind of epoxy or concrete, white on white.

She nodded. “The Spine, huh? I was in school when it broke. Crazy day. All over the TV, we all got sent home. No one knew what’d happened, but a whole block got crushed under the rubble. I remember…”

Sasha shook his head and pointed up, above the Spine. A blue light blinked faintly through the rising light of dawn.

“Ah. Synnefo City. The City in the Clouds. Damn Asteri can’t be happy with figuratively looking down on us, they’ve gotta do it literally, too.”

“Bastards,” Sasha muttered.

She gave his shoulder a friendly pat. “Language, kiddo.”

He grumbled and flopped backward onto couch, legs still dangling out the window, body draped over the couch’s arm. The electric cable laid on the floor nearby, unplugged.

Yawning, she pulled her ponytail out and grabbed a brush. “Finished charging?”

Sasha furrowed his brows at her, then reached out toward the back of her head. “What’s that?”

She instinctively tugged her hair to hide it, even though it was too late. She knew what he’d seen. A round metal socket where her skull met her neck, right above where her low ponytail usually sat. About the size of the circle of her forefinger and thumb held together, it nestled into the soft space between her spine and skull. Smaller periphery sockets clustered around the top half of the larger one. All capped off. Unused, for a long time now.

“Oh, that? Just a port.”

“Why do you hide it?” Sasha asked.

With practiced motions, she gathered her hair, tied it off and settled it over the port. “It’s ugly, that’s all.”

He looked her up and down disbelievingly. “You care about how you look?”

“Hey, cool it, kid. No need to get sassy first thing in the morning.” She gestured him on, out of the apartment.

“Where’re we going?”

“Get you some essentials. Clothes, ID, stop by Tooly’s for some goo.”

He nodded, then hesitated. “They’ll see me. The cameras. It’s day now.”

“Oh, right.” June went back to her closet and grabbed a thick scarf made of a shimmery silver material. “It’ll dazzle any cameras pointed at you. I’ve got a necklace version.” She pointed at her neck, where a short chain held a small silver disk.

“Won’t that be really obvious? If the cameras can see everyone but us?” Sasha asked.

“Are you kidding me? Everyone wears ‘em. It’d be weirder if we didn’t.” She gestured him on and headed for the door. Sasha hesitated one more second, then followed.

The street at day bustled, full of people and noise. Homeless folk busked and begged. Street shops peddled fake jewelry, snacks, shirts and hats. People hurried back and forth, workers in jumpsuits and business suits, college students in jeans, leather, and sweats, kids clutching backpacks.

Sasha stuck close to June, eyes wide. She reached for his hand, but barely felt a brush of cold metal before he yanked it out of her reach. A busker whistled, and Sasha spun to face him, tense. A schoolkid shrieked. He whirled in the other direction. A dagger materialized in his hand.

June grabbed his arm and pushed him into the next alley. She knelt down and looked him in the eye. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. Look at me.”

His gaze was distant, eyes bright with fear, pupils darting. His hands trembled subtly. Someone shouted. He jolted to face the street again, but June caught his chin and forced him to look her in the eye.

“It’s safe, kiddo. No one’s gonna hurt you. Deep breaths.”

Sasha gulped in a breath, then another, slower. He nodded slightly.

“Put the knife away?” she prompted.

He glanced down and startled. His hand blurred, and the dagger vanished again.

“Okay. Can you keep that knife in your—wherever you keep it?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He nodded.

June closed her eyes and breathed out, then stood. This is going to be harder than I thought. She offered her hand again. “Hold on. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Humor me.”

He sighed, but took her hand. A small hand slotted into hers. It looked organic, down to the fingernails, even the wrinkles at the joints, but it was too smooth, the palm a little too textured. Cold, too. She moved her thumb in a circle over the top of his hand, subconsciously trying to warm it.

“If anyone attacks us, I’m going to be so slow,” Sasha grumbled.

“No one’s going to attack us.”

She led him back out to the street. He tensed. A car backfired, and he jumped, but the knife stayed hidden. June smiled at him. He grimaced back.

A secondhand store came up on the right. Bright pink neon and digital signage beckoned them inside. Discount Tuesdays! Quality for cheap! Buying designer brands today!

June ducked inside, brushing neon-pink glowbeads out of the way. Rows and rows of clothes stretched before them, each one packed to the bursting. Hand-written signs, old print markers, and holo-signs mingled among the distant rows, listing sizes, style categories, garment types. To the right, jewelry glittered under the glass case that served as the shop’s counter and hung from a rag-tag assortment of jewelry racks. A worn register, painted pink, sat off to the side of the case. Behind the counter, wood shelves held knickknacks and sundry items.

June took in the shop, then glanced at Sasha. “How many outfits do you need? Two?”

“One?” Sasha suggested.

“At least two. You need one to wear while the other’s washing.”

Sasha nodded slowly as the brilliance of her idea slowly dawned on him.

“Two? For this cutie? Are you kidding me? She could be a model!”

The shelves behind the counter wavered for a moment, and a woman with piles of curly pink hair piled on top of her head bustled out from behind the holo-screen. A fluffy pink sweater hung off her shoulders, collarbones accentuated by a magenta velvet choker. From the bottom of the choker, a slender gold chain vanished into the sweater. Pink leather was all but painted over her legs, down to the gold stiletto heels. Glowstrips accentuated the curve of her thighs in neon. She looked Sasha up and down and hummed, rose lips pursed. “I know you could use some credits, June. I have contacts in the modeling industry. Could get this sweetheart set up for life.”

June glanced at Sasha. His nose was wrinkled in disgust. Biting back the urge to chuckle, she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, Marly, but we’ll pass. And uh, he prefers ‘he.’”

Marly pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Mmm. Well. Let me at least get him a decent closet. Strong feelings on fashion, darling? Pants, skirts? Jackets, blouses, vests, t-shirts? Punk, casual, classic? Or something a little more… dramatic?”

Sasha glanced at June, lost.

June patted him on the shoulder and grinned. Marly was going to enjoy this. It wasn’t every day she got to introduce someone to the concept of fashion. She’d tried a few times on June, but it never stuck. Maybe Sasha would be a little more interested.

“Don’t worry. Marly will explain everything,” she reassured him.

He didn’t look convinced.

She nodded over her shoulder. “Marly, why don’t you and Sasha look around the shop? I’ll be next door when you’re done. Keep it reasonable, alright? Street clothes, not street fashion. And, uh, you know my budget.”

Marly let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll try, I’ll try. Oh, and don’t worry about the budget, just for today. I heard what you did for those kids. This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks, Marly. I appreciate it.” She pulled Sasha aside. Quietly, she said, “Don’t hurt Marly. She’s not going to hurt you. If anyone comes after you or you get scared, I’m right next door. Down the hall, big old green door. Knock if you need me.”

He pulled away from her and glared. “I told you. I can take care of myself.”

She snorted. “True. See you in a bit, kiddo.”

Marly winked back at her. I’ve got him, she mouthed. Out loud, she said, “You can take care of yourself? What if the Lone Survivor shows up?”

“They won’t survive me,” Sasha muttered.

Marly beamed at Sasha. Her eyes flicked to June, and her lips formed, Too cute. “Why don’t we start over here? Let’s find you some shoes. Even if you’re in harness, you don’t want to get those shiny feet all dirty…”

June watched for a few seconds as Marly led Sasha deeper into the store. When a few seconds had passed without any knives appearing, she pushed through the door back onto the street.

Aimlessly, June circled the streets, eyes on the sky. A few minutes passed. The city bustled on all around her, heedless of her wandering.

Gorgeous Asteri danced, posed, and grinned from billboards mounted high above. One sipped from a soda and let out a refreshed sigh. Another flipped and kicked in a pair of patchy leather and denim pants. Yet another just tousled her hair at the camera, a big smile on her face. Old rage boiled up, hot, barely contained in her chest. June squeezed her hands shut. She wanted to scream. Tell everyone what frauds they were. Shout the crimes they’d committed to the heavens.

No one would listen. Not a single person would care. The rage turned to frustration and simmered down, a more sustainable heat. Not gone, but not ready to burst out, either. Her tensed fists loosened, fingernail-marks on her palms not quite ready to bleed.

I’m ready. She hissed a breath and turned to the narrow glass door next to Marly’s overflowing secondhand shop.

The door opened to a small, poorly lit hallway. Worn tiles on the floor, stained white walls, an industrial metal railing down two inexplicable steps. To the right, an even more narrow staircase switchbacked its way upward. A signboard on the wall of the stairs listed the shops: Thorny Rose Tattoos, SubDermal LExtremeDs, Tee Shine Cute Custom T-shirts. To the left, a hallway wound into the depths of the building, around a concrete pillar and out of sight. Flickering, half-dead lights gave the hall an eerie greenish light.

Grimly, she plodded down the hallway. Her footsteps echoed hollowly off the tile. Overhead, the bulbs buzzed and cut out, then flickered back to life. Doors opened to the right, some locked shut, others open. A bright sign invited guests to a convenience store. Another announced a dance studio. Deeper in. She was beyond Marly’s shop now, and doors stood on both the left and right. There were few signboards this far back, and most were cryptic. Dark Night Jobs. Two Hands Goal Studio.

She turned a corner and came face-to-face with a homeless man. He half-lunged at her. Her hand went to the holster under her jacket. Metal flashed in the low light. The man diverted his lunge and stumbled at the wall instead, muttering to himself. June pressed onward. Her shoulders tensed. She clenched her teeth. Dammit. I hate this place.

A half-dozen doors further in, she stopped before a sturdy green door. At eye-height, a narrow slot peered out at the hallway, thick shutter on the inside of the slit, not the outside. Bashes and dents marred the metal door. Crumpled brass hung half-off the door, the remnants of the knob.

One last deep breath. She raised her hand and knocked.

Stomping from the far side of the door. The mail slot flipped open. One wrinkled eye glared at her, other eye a blank, glinting camera lens.

“Oh. It’s you.”

The mail slot slammed shut. A second later, the lock clicked open. The door swung wide to reveal a cramped room. Books, boxes, folders, files and bits of circuitry were stacked along both sides of the hallway, back into a wider room. A woman shuffled down the end of the hallway toward an equally cluttered desk, every surface covered in stray bits of wires, circuitry, tablets, paper, coffee mugs, and a dozen other things she couldn’t make sense of.

The woman slowly lowered herself behind the desk and settled with a grunt. She regarded June silently. One half of her face, from her forehead down to her cheekbone, was a mess of glimmering dark cameras, bright lights, and filter lenses on hinged arms. Metal crawled back over head, over her forehead an inch or two into her hairline and back where her ear should have been. From behind the plate over her temple, carved with striped cutouts, a fan whirred.

Mad Ag. She rarely left her cave, but she didn’t need to. When people needed her assistance, they came to her.