It had been a couple of days now, and I'd learned a lot in that amount of time.

I was in a suburb, really a part of Portland, kind of like how there were a dozen cities which all ran together to form the contiguous urban sprawl which was LA. This was one of the nicer bits of the whole city, flush with little art shops and tiny fancy places to eat, which all seemed to be fusion or artisanal something or slapped together with a coffee shop or a microbrewery.

I didn't know really, between Mom and AEGIS and exile, the majority of my meals were either homemade, or scraped together from bits of the wilderness. Eating out with any regularity seemed expensive and kind of pointless.

And right now, also impossible and impossibly desirable. I hadn't been this fucking hungry since living in the frozen pine forests, except this time, I spent all day with people eating right in front of me.

I wasn't about to keel over and die or anything...I'd found perfectly good food just thrown out almost everywhere I looked...and in a moment of weakness on my second day, dumped a left-out bowl of dog food in my pocket to keep the hunger away. I figured, if I wasn't stealing half a million credits from Rito, I could steal a bowl of kibble. It was dry and nutty...actually not really that bad...but it made my jaw hurt from chewing -- and fuck, I was eating dog food, man.

Like, I realized my standards dropped when I spent most of a year a few days off starving to death in the wilds, and that my relationship with food was therefore very different from the human experience, but still. Fucking dog food, man.

I'd learned that this town prided itself on its schools, and that Penrose High School was just one of several award-winning schools in the area, and that in addition to pure academics, the school emphasized trade skills and arts, including mandatory classes in both for graduation. Which was super cool, and I wished I had the chance to have taken a shop class or two. Though art wasn't really my thing.

And finally, and of greatest importance, I'd learned nothing about the sudden appearance of a pack of twenty or so Exhumans. I wasn't exactly a private eye, so my sleuthing skills had a lot to be desired, mostly just aimless wandering and hoping I ran into anyone who looked vaguely familiar. I wasn't sure if I should keep going to new areas, or retread the same grounds over and over to make sure I never missed anything, or both. But it was still dispiriting to make the decision to stay out here and turn up with nothing so far but suffering.

By evening of my third day, I smelled bad, my jaw was sore from fucking kibble, I was hungry anyway, and my back was pissed at me for sleeping on a bench in the cold my first night, instead of finding the student lounge at the community college like I had done last night.

In short, things weren't going well. I wasn't dying either, but still not well.

What I wanted to do more than anything was to light a beacon, metaphorically. To somehow advertise to the Defiant that I was here, and to make myself easy to find. But of course, any advertising and ease of finding I did for them, I also did inadvertently for the XPCA.

What I needed was access to any amount of tech. I'd stopped by the libraries, both public and at the schools, and none of them would let me on their computers without an ID, and I wasn't going to let anyone see that while I was on the run. My own phone was out of the question of course, but if I could just borrow someone else's for a bit, or get a new one…

I wanted to reach out to Trish and Gil, I'd decided. There was no way the XPCA knew we were connected, and wouldn't be listening to their lines. I trusted them well enough...and most useful of all, their daughter...dang man, what was her name? It'd been bugging me all day now. Well, she was connected to the Defiant, I'd thrown her out of their pow-wow.

So I talk to them, to talk to her, to talk to the Defiant, to set up a meeting, to tell them about Dragon, to keep them from dying, to keep the world from ending. A great plan, I thought. Just the little hiccup of the first step.

"'Scuse me miss, can I borrow your mobile?" I asked a woman, who gave me a shocked and comprehensive up-and-down before awkwardly jogging across the street to the opposite sidewalk. I knew this was a nice town but jeez. Not even a no.

I think 'shower and shave and change' was probably a necessary first step to this plan as well. There had to be gyms at the college where I was crashing and showers there...but again, probably an ID check to get in. There might be some kind of homeless shelter thing somewhere, but fuck if I knew anything about that. I was getting pretty close to just banging on doors on a random street and asking for hospitality...but if the cops got called on me, I'd be completely fucked.

Over a damn shower. The smallest things sometimes.

I was walking past the end of a strip mall, thinking it was getting pretty late and I needed to head back to campus soon, when I paused outside a window.

There were a number of things in this window that immediately caught my eye. First was a pixels, just like AEGIS had embedded in her face, showing some appropriately ancient footage of what looked like an electric circuit being soldered on a table strewn with tools. Second was a faded printed sign in the corner that proclaimed 'mobiles new and used, repairs, mods and customizations'. And third, right next to the door, a sign in printed black text on a white sheet which read: 'Help Wanted', and then written below it in red, and vigorously underlined 'No experience necessary, brain required'.

Jobs gave money. And money could buy many things. Like a hotel room with a shower, or a fake student ID to complete my campus infiltration. Or maybe more realistically, one of those used mobiles to make the calls I needed. Though if I worked there, I might have the chance to just use what they had anyway...

Or food. Food was good too. The possibilities were endless, really.

Without even thinking really, drawn in by the white glare of the pixels' glow, I opened the door and let myself inside, realizing only afterwards that I'd never actually read the name of the place.

I read it backwards off the front door. 'Whitney's Repair and Service', pretty inoffensive. Taking a look around inside however, was not.

The whole place looked like it was in the midst of being wired together to form some kind of super-bomb. There were just stacks of circuit boards piled on top of counters full of quantum cores, while computer peripherals dangled from a string tied across the ceiling like they were a fresh kill drying out. Cables and cords snaked by underfoot, making even the limited walking space there was uneven. It smelled a little like burnt insulation and a lot like must.

It wasn't large in here to begin with, but with all the crap everywhere, there was hardly even a path to and from the main counter and register from the front door. Even if Whitney turned out to be a grandmaster at repair and service, at keeping a shop she was losing at solitaire tic-tac-toe.

Which was just kind of further evidenced by the fact that as I stepped around the piles of crap and reached the main counter, there was nobody at it. Just a door behind, slightly ajar, and the faint sounds of music and wailing from beyond it.

"Hello?" I called out. No reply of course, and I began to have my suspicions as to why there was help wanted here. "Heeeeeeellooooo?"

After maybe a minute of gawking at all the crap and punctuating the seconds with repeated calls, I ultimately decided this was stupid, and I'd go in the back.

I knocked, called again, and entered.

And man, if I thought the front of the store was a mess. Jesus Christ, it was like they were building a VTOL back here. It was a little dark, except lights on the benches presumably around the perimeter of the room, or at least the taller piles of crap there indicated such might be underneath. The room was bigger here than the front, interestingly.

And there was just so much freaking junk everywhere that it took me most of a minute to spot the source of the music, and the only organic thing in this heap.

A woman, maybe Karu's age, and incredibly tall--at least a couple inches on me it looked--wearing a dirty red tank top, black unlaced boots which drooped away from her legs, and khaki cargo shorts, half-obscured by a sweatshirt tied around the waist. She had music playing pretty loud from her somewhere, and in the single clear counter space in front of her was bent over, working on something from a simple stool.

And she was singing. Way louder than the music. And way, way worse.

"NEVER THINKING...of who you LEEEEFT BEHIND, when you go -- NEVER THINKING...of...okay now baby, show me what you got...be a good girl for Mommy. LEEEEEFT BEHIND those FEEL-IIIIINGS. Oh no, no, no, bad girl. You're supposed to be at two-hundred ohms, not zero. Where's my short? Is it you, Ms. Solder? Are you giving me a short because of my sloppy soldering job? I'm sorry sweetie. LEAVING THE WOOOOORLD BEHIND YOU."

I couldn't help but smile as she maintained a one-sided singing-conversation with the work on her table. But not wanting to creep too hard, I cleared my throat loudly. When that didn't take, I knocked on the doorframe...and finally just called out to her.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Woah!" she yelped, falling backwards off her stool. Her sweatshirt on her waist caught on it, and she took a few fumbling steps, the stool banging loudly as it tripped her up. I realized she was going down and jumped forward over a pile of debris. She managed another two toddling steps before careening towards the ground, one leg stuck through the legs of the stool.

And she landed safely in my arms like we'd just finished a dance routine. Even being taller than me, she was still pretty light.

"Um, hi?" I said, looking down at her. Sticking out from the red bandana which pointed up from her forehead, her shoulder-length black hair had some faded purple streaks in it, I realized. Her green eyes stared at me from behind thick, plastic, black frames with a strange, non-judgemental curiosity.

"Hi," she said, finally. The music kept playing making this a little surreal. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, I was just peeking around in here, and then you fell, so I caught you. Sorry to startle you."

"I meant...now. What are you still doing?"

"Oh sorry." I pulled her upright and held her until she'd escaped from the clutches of the stool and was stable. She tapped at a bracelet on her wrist and the music stopped.

"Guess I should thank you for the rescue anyway, even if it was your fault I fell?"

"Sure. You're welcome."

"That's it?" She gave me a half-smirk. "Well aren't you nice. What can I do for you friendo?"

"Wait, what was that supposed to mean?"

Her half-smirk progressed to a three-quarter smirk. "I hope I'm not going to offend you with this, but you look like someone who needs something. Like a few bucks. I wasn't sure if you were going to ask for a handout or demand one. So a little surprised, but a little pleased you didn't do either."

"Oh." I sniffed myself delicately. "Yeah. Sorry...a third time."

"Yeah. Caught a wiff earlier. Do you uh, not do hygiene?"

"No, I do. I've just been...like...homeless for a few days."

She made a clicking noise with her tongue. "At your age? I'm sorry kid. Hmm...maybe...there's a shower and a cot down here but they're full of junk. I used to spend a lot of nights working in here when I was full of youth and vitality," she chuckled. "Might be able to let you stay a night if you can dig it out...but don't pocket a dang thing. I know every single scrap down here, believe it or not."

"Um, thanks. Why would I steal anything from you if you're offering me a bed? That seems like it would be stupid of me."

Again with the sideways smirk. "I dunno if you're really bad at being poor, or really good at it. I guess you said it's only been a few days."

"You'd assume I'm a thief just because I'm out of a home?"

"I’d assume you're poor because you're out of a home, and I assume that poor people are more likely to need things, and I assume people who need things tend to take them."

"I...I guess. That's not gonna be me though."

She gave a derisive half-snort through her little nose. "You probably haven't even been properly hungry yet. We'll see if and when you get there."

"Err, well, that's actually why I'm here. I saw you had a help wanted sign up. Thought I might earn some of that money you say I need."

"Is that so?" She hadn't been tense before, but seemed to relax even more as she went back to her stool and propped it up again, facing me with her long legs crossed. "Well, I admit you've charmed me somewhat with the whole good-guy routine and claiming you wouldn't want to steal. What else have you got for me?"

"Uh, I...don't know. What's the position?"

She shrugged. "Man the register, clean the shop, do bitch work."

I looked around at the enormous piles of crap everywhere, even hanging off the walls and ceiling. "Clean the shop? How?"

"Are you insinuating I've got some kind of hoarding problem?"

"I'm insinuating you've got some kind of hoard."

Her face split into a grin. "Hell yeah I do. Relax, mostly I just need things sorted into boxes instead of piles. Boxes stack, ergo, more stuff in less space. I'd do it myself, but every time I've started--" she gestured with her head towards a few boxes in the corner almost buried in parts. "--I get distracted playing with the stuff I find. So I need someone less captivated by the shinies than myself."

"Okay. Well, I can do that. And man the register or whatever."

"How much can you lift?"

"I could bench two-fifteen...uh...back in high school. That was most of a year ago."

"Not exactly what I meant but okay. Let me see your mobile."

I pulled it out and was about to hand it over to her when I suddenly had a thought and felt a bubble of panic. "I...can't do that," I said.

"Why not?"

I stopped for a second to try to put this as positively as I could. "Um. People are looking for me. I don't want to do anything which might let them know where I am."

"Then you're already screwed. They can tell which 'net relay you're on and narrow you down that way."

I shook my head. "Not this mobile. But they can read anything I send or receive."

"Oh really?" she said, with a small condescending smile. "I very much doubt that, but you've got me curious. I won't do anything, I promise. Can I see it?"

I shook my head. "I don't even know why you want to."

"Mobiles are a part of us. What yours is and looks like tells me a lot about you. If you want this job, it's non-negotiable."

I had half a mind to leave but...she seemed alright, honestly. What was the worst thing that could happen? If I stayed in arm's reach, and she seemed to be going for the map or contacts or something…

I handed it over, and she gave it a once-over. Then sniffed it.

"Smells like dog food," she said frowning. "And it's oily."

"I can take it back--"

She shook her head and pulled it away from my reach. "This is a Seraphim DX 480. Do you know what that is?"

"It's a really nice mobile?"

"It's not. But it is the holy grail of the mobile modding community. So easy to root, such an extensive API framework, and the 480 had a unpatchable defect on one of the chips that got fixed in the 490...you didn't even need a modchip or toolchain to get code running natively. The specs are astronomical for its size, one of the old models before this fad of cloud processing. You could do anything with one of these beauties."

She tapped it to life. "Biometric lock. Good. Give me your finger and eyes. Thanks. Oh wow. Hello gorgeous. You've had a lot of work done, haven't you?"

"Uh, yeah. Well, my sister did."

"I was talking to her," she said, giving the mobile a gentle shake in my direction. In just a few taps she was flipping through a few screens I'd never even seen before, her eyes darting around like crazy over the data in front of her. "Good gosh, you're beautiful. Who coded you, I wonder? And it looks like your owner was right...you're actively spoofing your own relay and connecting through that. Clever little girl."

I watched with bemused fascination as she crooned over my mobile, seemingly completely unembarrassed to converse with my device right in front of me. When she was satisfied, she put it back in my hands gently.

"So why do you want this job?" she asked. "You're obviously rich."

"I'm not. Like I said, my sister did all this."

"And she won't give you money, but will give you this mobile? I'm not going to judge, but okay."

"No, I just...can't talk with her right now."

"Ah," she said, and dropped it. "Well, I'd hire your sister in a heartbeat. You?" She leaned forward until she was in uncomfortable proximity to my face and then sniffed me. "You, I'm not so sure. You put a Seraphim in dog food."

"Lady, I put dog food in myself. I'm hungry and homeless. It's nothing personal against my mobile."

She smiled at me. "Wow that's sad."

"Thanks?"

"But if you're willing to eat dog food and still not steal from someone, I guess you're alright." She tapped the side of her glasses thoughtfully. "Okay. I've decided. The position is yours if you want it. Just take care of your Seraphim, they don't make them like that anymore."

"Really? Thanks!" I felt an unexpected excitement surge through me for...for really no reason at all. I hadn't even wanted this job ten minutes ago, but now I had it. It was something, which was better than the nothing where I was before. But I still hadn't expected to be genuinely excited.

"And you've got nowhere to stay?"

I nodded.

She stood up and started for the pile of junk nearest the entrance. "You can start now with this stuff, and if we get it sorted tonight, you can sleep here until you get a place. Free of charge, because I'm just that great."

"That's really incredibly generous," I told her, skipping past her to get a couple boxes.

"Eh. Not like the cot's doing anything as it is. Nice thing about parts, they're just as happy sitting in a box as on a bed."

She was smirking at me again, and I wasn't sure just to what extent she was fucking with me, or how much she genuinely believed all this stuff was alive. Taken independently, all her eccentricities might be nothing, but together, they began to paint a weird picture.

I mean, not that I'd judge. I once confused one of my friends for a mushroom colony.

We worked for a few hours, mostly just rearranging the available space under her direction until a dirty glass door and a nook in the wall emerged, the promised shower and cot. It must have been pushing eleven when we finally cleared the last of the debris and I could pull a taut fabric bed from the nook, which was small, but reminded me a lot of the hammocks I used to sleep in every night.

"All set?" she asked after testing the water, which had sputtered and run brown for a while before behaving like a normal shower.

"Yeah. Thank you again, for all of this."

She shrugged with a small smirk. "People need help sometimes."

The sentiment surprised me. Such a simple positivity, I thought. She didn't do it out of obligation or guilt or feeling like she needed to share what she had. Sometimes, people just needed help. I liked that.

She locked up, leaving me inside and promising to see me in the morning, and the last I saw of her was her walking away outside the locking bars in the storefront. I went into the back, prepared my last change of clothes, and took a shower. It felt like I was washing off all of the last few days off of me. It was hot and invigorating, and just the fact that I knew where I'd be sleeping tonight and nobody was going to wake me up to tell me I couldn't sleep here, that this was a tiny place I could call my own for now...well…

The last couple of days had been chipping away at my confidence, at my decision to stay here. I felt like, if I couldn't even manage making it out here, what the heck was I doing? But now it seemed back in full measure. With this tiny cot and this dirty shower with rust stains at my back, I would find the Defiant. I would stop an international assassin, and I would save the world.

Yeah, it was ridiculous, I knew. But that didn't make it any less real. Sometimes the smallest things could make the biggest difference.

I was still smiling as I ate another mouthful of dog food and went to bed.