The booth’s soft activation bleep was the only sound as the interface blinked to life, its green glow casting faint shadows over Selina and Rosa’s tense faces. Rosa leaned in close, her breath a whisper in the quiet.
“Don’t make it weird,” she murmured. “Just be direct.”
Selina’s lips tightened, a blink of frustration in her eyes. “I've got this,” she whispered, though her voice barely carried. Her hands hovered over the controls before she exhaled, centring herself.
The chatbooth felt like a cocoon, its signalproof walls pressing in on them. The soft ocean-green light rose and fell faintly, while outside, the Nexus Communique heaved with life. Beyond the smartglass, the hall was alive with suspended data streams, muted voices and movement blurring into a tapestry of interconnections. Yet here, inside this quiet capsule, all of that was reduced to nothing. It was just the two of them and the weight of the message they were about to send.
Selina began, her voice steady as she spoke into the microphone. “Hi, Roan. We’re looking into some events involving the release of monkeys at a police station in Yorkshire a while back. Your comment on @gj522019’s post caught our eye. Can we ask you a few questions?”
The words materialised on the screen, sharp and clinical, yet they carried all the unspoken desperation they were trying so hard to conceal. Selina hesitated, her fingers over the pause icon, before she finally stopped the transcription. She turned to Rosa, her face thoughtful.
“What do you think?”
Rosa studied the message, her expression unreadable at first. Then, with a faint nod, she said, “It’s honest. Let’s send it before we overthink.”
The booth’s stillness wrapped around them as they waited. Rosa gazed into the console, her pupils dark and deep, flickering with the faint reflections of the interface.
Outside, the distant blur of voices and movement continued, faint shadows cast through the temporarily frosted glass like echoes of another life. Time dragged, the stillness inside the booth amplifying every passing second. They both knew it was a long shot to expect any immediate response.
Selina breathed softly, mesmerised briefly by how the virtual environment simulated even the subtlest details - the way the air seemed to hold her breath, a soft, lingering trace in the small space between them. It was as if the system had learned the texture of sensation itself, weaving every nuance into a perfect, synthetic reality. Her hand hovered over the controls, suspended in the moment, as though the act of moving it might unravel the illusion. The silence deepened, a synthetic pressure against her senses.
For a second, Selina contemplated saying something - something she'd pushed aside. That moment just before they had logged into the NexUs when Rosa had seemed to blur, to dissipate as if she were fading into the digital ether itself. The memory of it prowled among her thoughts, too indistinct to voice yet too unsettling to ignore. But just as Selina parted her lips to speak, the screen activated, its abruptness cutting through her thoughts.
Typing…
They both leaned in closer, breath held.
Roan: Hi. Wow, that’s… out of the blue. What’s this actually about?
Selina grinned at Rosa, surprised by how quickly the response had come. She had been prepared for a longer wait, given the random nature of their message. She switched to typing.
Selina: It’s connected to an experiment they were part of at Paignton Zoo. We think it ties into some larger… developments. Any info would help. You seem to know Jonas, and he's proving elusive.
Another pause. Then:
Roan: Paignton Zoo? This is... kind of weird, don’t you think? Monkeys and secret experiments?
There was a long pause as the women wondered how to coax something useful out of the conversation.
Selina: Please don’t worry. We’re not journalists or part of any official authority.
Rosa: Exactly. We work with the South West of England Primate Research Facility, and we’re pursuing this out of personal concern for the well-being of the monkeys.
Selina: We really just want to understand what happened, to ensure their safety and to get to the bottom of some unusual circumstances surrounding their case. Any insight you can provide would be invaluable.
They paused, hoping their reassurances would encourage Roan to open up without feeling threatened.
Roan: Look, I’m not being difficult, but why should I trust you with this? I'm not sure I want to get tangled up in whatever this is.
Another pause, longer this time. Roan seemed to be weighing his words carefully.
Roan: And Jonas? I don't think I should speak for him. If he’s keeping quiet, there's probably a reason. You sure you want to push this?
Selina’s fingers moved swiftly over the virtual keyboard, trying to reassure him without pushing too hard.
Selina: I get it, I do. You don’t have to trust us right away. But the thing is, we’re in this deeper than we ever thought we’d be. We have serious concerns for Gum, Rowan and the others. We’re not asking for anything crazy, just some info that could help us connect the dots.
She paused, hoping he’d bite.
Selina: Whatever the monkeys are being used for? It’s not ethical. If you know anything - anything at all - it could be the piece we’re missing to help them.
Roan: You work with monkeys, huh? How did you hear about them?
Rosa: Actually they got in touch with us, or at least Gum did.
Roan: I thought Jonas wasn't speaking to you?
Rosa: Not that Gum. The monkey called Gum.
Roan: The monkey called Gum? That’s wild.
Selina: There's one called Rowan too.
There was another long pause.
Roan: You seem to have a lot of stuff jumbled up. You guys serious about this?
Selina: Dead serious.
There was a much longer pause this time. Rosa chewed her lip, tension building in the silence.
Roan: Alright. I'm not promising anything. Let’s talk over visual - it’s easier than typing everything. Give me 15 minutes to set up?
Selina exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing.
Selina: Perfect. Send the link.
As soon as Roan sent a follow-up message with the meeting invite, Rosa leaned back in the booth.
“Well,” she said with a wry smile, “looks like someone’s willing to cooperate. Let’s hope he actually knows something.”
Selina grinned. “Finally, a lead that doesn’t slam the door in our faces.”
Fifteen minutes later, Rosa and Selina clicked on the visual link. A loading screen spun before the window opened, revealing a dark silhouette against a glowing purple backdrop. The username read “NotRoan.”
“Seriously?” Selina muttered under her breath.
The figure leaned closer, their face partially illuminated by the glow of a monitor. Roan had a hood pulled up, and sunglasses obscured most of his features.
“Wow, subtle,” Rosa said dryly.
“Can’t be too careful,” Roan replied, his voice slightly distorted by a filter. “For all I know, you could be recording this.”
“I assure you that we're not and I think we can see your wife in the background,” Selina pointed out, arms crossed.
“Mist!” he cried, gesturing off camera. Then, waving a hand dismissively, “So, monkeys at the station in Yorkshire. What do you know about it?”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Rosa leaned forward, her expression serious. “We know that they were released at the station around twenty years ago, then they were involved in some student project at Paignton Zoo before being whisked away to M.A.S.S. We’re trying to fill in the gaps.”
Roan shook his head as the woman in the background came and leaned over his shoulder. “Twenty years back?” she said.
“Yeah, I think we've got some crossed wires,” Roan suggested. “Gum - uh, Jonas - got tangled up in… I remember the thing about them showing up at the station. It was in the local news for a bit before everything went hush-hush, but that was only last year. He’s not allowed to say too much, but I guess there are a few bits I can share.”
“Why was he at the station?” Selina asked.
“A perfectly innocent game gone wrong,” Roan replied vaguely. “As for the monkeys... I was told some animal rights group set them loose in the station as a protest of some sort.”
“Do you think we should be talking to these people?” the wife said to Roan.
For a few moments the camera blanked and the conversation was muted, presumably whilst the couple discussed the situation
Rosa decided to shift gears before they were cut off altogether. “Do you know the name Ananth Van Der Lekh?”
Roan turned the camera back on and raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Who?”
“Ananth Van Der Lekh,” Rosa repeated. “He’s an author. He's written a series of books - science fiction, supposedly - but they’re almost an exact match to your and Jonas’ story. Even the part about the game in Yorkshire.”
“Books?” Roan leaned back, visibly skeptical.
“And graphic novels,” Selina added, significantly. “With some weird 3D images, by the way. It’s not subtle. He practically lays it all out.”
“That’s news to me,” Roan said, shaking his head and sharing a look with his wife. “Never heard of the guy. But if he’s writing about us... That’s worrying.”
“Worrying or not,” Rosa said, “it might be worth looking into. There could be more to this connection.”
Roan scratched the back of his head, his silhouette touched by the monitor's glow. “Alright, I’ll take a look later. But let’s focus on what you want from Gum for now.”
“We need to talk to him directly,” Selina pressed. “Can you convince him to meet us? We’re not here to cause trouble. We just need answers.”
Roan hesitated, then again muted and blanked the camera. When he came back on, the couple seemed to have reached an agreement. “Look, we can't promise anything. There’s a place beneath Infinity NexUs - Dolphin’s. Gum trusts the place. We’ll try and bring him there.”
“Dolphin’s?” Selina said, frowning. “What is it? A simbar or something?”
Roan nodded, his face barely visible behind the soft glow of his screen. "Sort of. It's more like a social hub. Imagine a central food court surrounded by storefronts, like an old-school Argos on an industrial level backed with sprawl of an Amazon warehouse all rolled into one. It’s an old haunt, ClearView had an early front there. He might come there if we ask him right.”
Selina shot Rosa a knowing look. “I’ve heard of that place. It’s… a relic, right? From the early days of Infinity NexUs? Isn’t it a place for hackers and data buskers now?”
“Yeah, it's where it all started. It was the original NexUs in its earliest days, a single sim for the earliest virtual shoppers and gamers, but over time, as newer, shinier parts of the virtual world sprouted up around it, Dolphin’s got left to rot.”
Mist joined in, “Wasn't the place abandoned for some time?”
Rosa cleared her throat. “Alright, how about now? We can head right over. We need answers, and we need them fast.”
“I get it,” Roan said, his tone more serious now. “Give us an hour, we can't just drop everything. I’ll try and make sure Gum shows up. Just be careful. Dolphin’s is not for everyone.”
With that, the connection cut out, leaving the two women staring at the now-blank screen. Selina let out a breath, her shoulders slumping for a moment.
“I hate being so in the dark about this,” she muttered.
Rosa gave her a sharp look, already on her feet. “Then let’s stop waiting around. Where is this Dolphin's?” The thought felt strangely significant for a second before sinking back into nothing.
Rosa and Selina exited the soundproof booth of NexComm and stepped back into the bustle of the concourse. Neither of them noticed the shadow blending into the shifting crowds, just outside of the periphery of their focus.
They called up a map projection, Selina’s expression a mixture of determination and caution. "Dolphin’s is somewhere down here," she murmured, passing her finger through the map that floated before them. "It’s just past the old arcade district, near the sub-server junctions. I can see why he'd like it."
The approach to Dolphin’s felt like wandering into the irregular byways of Infinity NexUs. Rosa and Selina navigated a maze of alleys, where the buildings seemed to lean in conspiratorially, their upper levels almost touching like a modern twist on medieval architecture. Here, the sleek, corporate polish of the main shopping zones faded into a patchwork of quirkier, rough-around-the-edges establishments. The atmosphere was vibrant as though the heart of the city still pulsed faintly here, despite being overshadowed by its glossier counterpart.
As they moved deeper, the sound of music and voices could be heard. Buskers strummed digital lutes, buried their faces in great didgeridoos or ground away at antique barrel organs with earnest monkeys waving cups at passersby, like wilderness prophets. Eclectic melodies faded one into another or intertwined with the rhythmic cadence of spoken word poets standing on makeshift stages, passionately reciting verses of lost codes, open-source freedom, and the glories of early cyberspace.
A lone Seer moved through the crowd, his movements jerky, like a faulty projection half-erased. “The towers will fall… too much greed!” His hands waved towards the glowing corporate zone, trembling. He stumbled past Rosa and Selina, his eyes wide with static, blindly scanning the faces of those who passed him by. “Nothing’s real…” His voice broke, distorted, then surged back, desperate and unrelenting. “...too high… too hollow!” The crowd gave him space, eying him with wary curiosity as he pushed on, his warnings just another voice among the buskers.
Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed Rosa’s arm, his gaunt fingers cold and unyielding. His eyes locked onto hers, and in an instant, the noise of the crowd seemed to vanish, replaced by a sharp, dissonant hiss. “You... you’re from here,” he rasped, his breath ragged, as though the words had been torn from him against his will. “You know… you know it, don’t you?” His grip tightened for a moment, and his sightless gaze drilled into her, as though he were trying to peel away layers of her very being. “Here... and not here… you know.”
The crowd shifted uneasily, some muttering under their breath, but no one intervened. The Seer's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "Too much, too much… it’s all inside, it’s all inside…" Then, just as abruptly, he let go of her, stumbling back into the crowd as though nothing had happened.
Rosa stood frozen for a moment, her virtual pulse thudding in her ears. For a split second, she was lost in mist, the world soft and grey. The mournfulness of heather bruised and purple, the air, thick with wet bracken. She felt a pull - a memory, distant and blurry, a voice whispered in the fog scratching at the walls twisted into something that might have been her own…
"Rosa?" Selina’s voice broke through the dissonant haze, her hand settling on Rosa’s arm. “You okay?”
Rosa blinked, the image vanishing as quickly as it came, leaving behind only the fading echo of the mist. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as though trying to rid herself of the lingering weight.
Selina squeezed her arm lightly. “Just another NexUs distraction. Nothing we want to get tangled up in.” She nodded toward the crowd. “Come on. We’ve got an appointment to keep.”
Rosa hesitated, then nodded, the residual pull of the vision remaining. But Selina was right. There was nothing here for them but more noise.
With a shaky breath, Rosa forced herself to refocus. “Let’s go,” she said, though her voice was uncertain.
Selina gave her a pointed look, urging her on. “Move, before it pulls us under.”
In the high-end zones of Infinity NexUs, performers were considered nuisances, chased away or hunted by officials nicknamed Babbages. But here, in the less corporate recesses leading to Dolphin's, they found sanctuary. Their presence was not only tolerated but celebrated, a living homage to the untamed spirit that once defined the early days of the virtual world.
Most performers operated within a shared system, where passers-by scanned tokens of appreciation into large, case-like containers scattered throughout the zone. These ‘butts’ were later synced and the takings fairly distributed among them, fostering a sense of community and shared purpose in this unique enclave beneath the sprawling digital metropolis.
Through it all, the shadow lingered just behind them, its form always at the edge of vision. It kept its distance, hovering on the brink of awareness - never close enough to be seen, yet near enough to prickle the senses.
Eventually, Rosa and Selina saw the cylindrical blue glass of the lift down to Dolphin's, but as they got near, a violent scuffle broke out. An imposing doorman, dressed in a tactical wetsuit that shimmered with military-grade tech, was locking horns with a databusker. The busker was a wiry figure, his clothes tattered and patched with scraps of worn fabric, his arms a maze of tattoos - decay and chaos in old binary codes. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, wild with defiance, as he shoved hard against the doorman's chest, pushing him back a step.
"Back off, now!" the doorman thundered, his voice a low growl that sliced through the noise. But the busker didn't flinch. Instead, he grinned - sharp, dangerous - his enhanced teeth flashing like a predator's.
"You don't scare me, meathead," the busker spat, leaning forward, shoving harder. Without warning, he suddenly swung his arm, and the crack of his palm across the doorman’s face rang out with a brutal thwack. The force of the blow sent the doorman stumbling back, but only for a moment. He recovered with lightning speed, his jaw tightening as his fury flared. He lunged forward, swinging a massive elbow that barely missed the busker's ribs, leaving a trail of hot air where it had been.
Bystanders scattered, some yelling, others backing into doorways, but Rosa and Selina stood frozen for a heartbeat too long. As the fight escalated, the busker, his feet slipping on the wet pavement, crashed into Rosa. She slammed into the glass surface of the lift, pain shooting through her side. A large container - heavy and packed with who knew what - tipped from a nearby shelf, crashing down onto her back with a thud that made the breath leave her lungs. Digital credits and virtual coins spilled across the ground, tumbling with a sharp, metallic clatter, as if mocking her helplessness.
"Rosa!" Selina’s voice cracked through the chaos, cutting sharply through the clamor of falling coins. She pushed forward, her hands moving in a blur to check Rosa. She helped her sit up, her touch quick and anxious, her eyes scanning Rosa’s face for any sign of injury.
“Who thought it was a good idea to write pain into the code of this place?” Rosa groaned.
The doorman, his rage now palpable, grabbed the busker by the throat with one hand and slammed him against the lift’s metal frame. The busker gasped, struggling, his fists pounding uselessly against the doorman’s unyielding grip. His body trembled with each violent shake, but he snarled, refusing to beg for mercy.
"You should’ve stayed down," the bouncer growled, his voice low and guttural. He tightened his grip, squeezing harder.
The busker’s knees buckled, but just as he looked ready to go limp, he laughed hard in the doorman's face.
The doorman recoiled, momentarily stunned, but his grip didn’t falter. Instead, he dragged the busker upright, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. With one final, bone-jarring thwuck, the busker was pinned back against the metal wall, gasping for air.
Rosa, dazed and breathless, leaned into Selina, her heart hammering in her chest. The fight had left the air thick with tension, but it was already fading, leaving only the sound of digital credits still scattering across the concrete.
Selina helped Rosa to her feet, her fingers brushing the glass of the lift as they stepped inside, the doors closing with a soft hiss. The lift only went down.