Bright City - The Secret Apartment

“I regret everything.” I say. “Spent most of my crypto in a dream game. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

I’m chilling with Pizza Girl. Smoking. Listening to the news. Trying to figure out when it all went wrong.

..Crypto Bro says your assets are toit, but thousands of new security drones…

…Big Cheddar’s fireworks keep getting better…

….Blank new performance thrills fans…

…..Champion is back from pacifying the colonies, but don’t panic yet…

“You hungry?” I ask.

Pizza Girl smokes. Messy hair and perfect nails. Greedy. “I could eat.”

“Hey Liam!” I yell at the general vicinity.

A spider-bot peeks out from behind the bookshelf. Winces. “Can you put on some clothes before you call me?”

“Why? You’re surveilling everyone at all times. You’ve seen me naked before. You just saw us fucking. Do we have to pretend that’s not happening?”

The spider-bot glowers. “What do you want Xan?”

“Can you order us a pizza?”

“I’m not your personal assistant.”

“You watch me whack-off. Feels kinda personal.”

“Fuck’s sake Xan, there’s a pizza behind you.”

“What?” I look over blearily. “Where’d that come from?”

Pizza girl giggles. “I brought it.”

“Right… That checks out.” I exhale. “Sorry, I’ve had a stressful day.”

“Have you?” snarks Liam. “All you’ve done is smoke dope and fuck around.”

“Bah. How would you know?”

The spider-bots venom tipped mandibles twitch, then recede. “Have you fixed the threat detector?”

“Nope. Can’t fix what ain’t broken.” I say. “This is a clear case of user error. The threat detector can’t see Big Cheddar because he doesn’t want you dead. If you wanna find him, just really, really, piss him off.”

There’s a few moments of silence. The spider-bot seems to be literally chewing this information. “That’s it? I could have thought of that.”

“Well, ya didn’t.”

“You expect payment?”

“Yes.”

There’s another long pause. Is he reading my microexpressions to divine my intentions? I wonder what they are?

“Cool. We’re at system destruction.” muses Pizza Girl. “The pinnacle of symmetrical warfare. Big Cheddar’s invisible. His skydrones are unbeatable. But the system that supports them is completely exposed. Employees, customers, and the places where they meet. Disrupt any of them, and his cash flow dries up. Then he’s just a man with a finite amount of death satellites. If you can play them out, he’s just a man.”

Liam thinks. Huffs. “Fine. Who did you want to find?”

“Harkon.” I pause. I’m vexed by my Dark City plans, but quitting now would mean I wasted a lot of crypto. “And the Deputy. Though, he probably has a different name. I have a profile on him.”

“Great.” says Liam. “Do you have a profile on Harkon?”

“Probably? I have two million profiles. Not sure which one is his. He’s in there somewhere.”

“Alright. Would you like two million possible locations, or would you like to get your shit together?”

“Uhh… let’s start with the Deputy’s location.”

Liam downloads the profile and churns out a location immediately. “He’s hanging around Blank’s new film set. Actually… I think he is Blank. That’s weird. You didn’t tell me you were stalking celebrities. Would have saved time. I already know her. Had her once.”

“What a coincidence!” chirps Volt.

“Anyway, are we done?” asks Liam.

“For now.” I say. “I’ll let you know when I have a profile for Harkon.”

“Good luck with that.” The spider-bot grabs its own head, gives it a few rough jerks, and messily decapitates itself. Its sparking body collapses to the floor.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“I don’t think he wants to hang out with you anymore.” says Pizza Girl.

“He’s just being dramatic. We’re constant companions.”

I think as we get assembled. Blank is the Deputy. That is an amazing coincidence. Handy in one way - we have met. Terribly inconvenient in another - she is the most outrageously famous person in the city, and not that approachable.

As an immersive reality star, Blank picks a theme, then films near constantly without breaking character. If I want to talk with her, I’ll have to fit the narrative.

“What theme is Blank shooting now?” I ask Volt.

“Intrigue.”

Huh. That’s annoying. But doable. I wonder why the city’s most fabulously sought after woman plays Night City as sleepy deputy? I wonder why I play as an old vagrant?

“Do you play Night City? Or do you dream of flying?”

“Lately my dreams have been of fire and chaos.” says Pizza Girl.

“Oh. Is that fun for you?”

She smiles. “I find it very satisfying, yes.”

I decide to dress up real fancy, so Pizza Girl slinks into her uniform much faster. I get a quick kiss and she’s gone. Volt reads messages as I hunt for clean-ish dress clothes.

“You have a bunch more calls from crypto brokers. We could replenish our coffers with a few quick deals.”

I shake my head. “Negative. No more crypto deals until we gank Harkon. Tell them to wait.”

“They’re getting quite agitated.”

“Cool. We should raise our prices.”

We get out. Breeze through the reverse gentrified conglomeration of repurposed stripmalls and cozy street cafes that is our neighborhood. I’d like a cheezy coffee, but every cafe we pass is being ransacked by spider-bots. Barista-bots fight brave and dirty, but are ultimately outnumbered. Their customers are mostly unharmed but firmly run-off. The odd human employee is given aggressive employment counseling.

It’s all lit by the eerie flaming aurora borealis of Big Cheddar’s continual fireworks. The screaming and the burning skies go nicely together. Beautiful in an abject way.

“Let’s go fuck a movie star.”

We ramble to the more high rent part of Bright City and its crown jewel - The Cheddar Drome. It’s a huge monolith of commerce, habitats, and services. A honey trap of immediate gratification and instant obligation. An authoritarian mirror to the anarchic Immobile Mobile Market. One designed for profit, the other grown for survival, but eerily similar in form and function. Except where the Market is decrepit, encroaching, and dangerous, The Cheddar Drone is sterile, and liminal, and twice as dangerous.

Blank is filming in a non-smoking bar deep in the bowels of The Drome’s food court. It’s carefully made up to appear seedy and weary, but countless details reveal newness and mass production. Probably looks authentic on film.

Blank lounges languidly by the bar, looking delicious as usual. Awkward wanna-be’s cluster around her, fumbling for the appearance of intrigue. This boils down to being shiftily aloof as close to her as possible. Perhaps hoping she’ll mistake moody for mystery and accidentally talk to them. It’s sad to watch. Probably looks better on film.

I’d like to barge over and ask hard questions about Dark City public safety administration, but heavily armed security drones bristle off camera. Anyone spoiling the shoot will be shot off scene. That’s cool. I can do intrigue. Blank’s about to meet a mysterious stranger from her past.

Volt switches to cochlear coms and parks herself by the exit. She may get shot if she gets too close to Blank. Call that Plan B.

I give the security drones a good second to scan me, then post up next to Blank. Order a whiskey, slam it back, and without looking over say “I’ve got the packet. But it’s not safe to transfer yet.”

Blank gives me a smoky look. Does she remember me? We met when she was making a multi-media homage to punk rock. I was doing a one man show called alcoholism. It wasn’t that long ago, but honestly I barely remember it.

I suppose it doesn’t matter. Blank’s a method actor. If prior acquaintance moves the story, we’ll be old friends - whether she remembers me or not. Either way, she’ll be more receptive to my bullshit if I stay in character.

I look over at Blank. “I… Shit. It’s you. Are you sure you want to get involved in this?”

Her eyes glint as she gives a sly smile. “Yes. It’s time.”

There’s a barely audible groan as the wanna-be’s realize they got sharked. Sorry fellas. Too slow. Blank takes my arm, and I bake half a plan to spew duplicitous bullshit until I can fuck some answers out of her. It’s looking like a fun evening, until Blank freezes, and Volt sends a worried chirp.

Xan! I think we have a problem!

A hulking, eye-watering form eases through the bar door, doing only minor structural damage. The angry V of its faceplate glares down at us. I brace for immediate ultra-violence, but Harkon only stares for a moment, before turning to a corner booth - casually liberating its table to better accommodate his bulk.

That’s… good… I guess? I’m unarmed. Volt can’t hit him. And the security drones are looking everywhere but at him. Maybe he’s here for a pint? Maybe this isn’t a problem?

Except, Blank is transfixed. Staring at Harkon with hungry eyes. Dammit. What could be more intriguing than an outlaw that barely exists?

While she looks at him, he’s looking at me. I mean, it’s hard to tell, but I think he’s looking at me. Who the fuck is this guy? Why is he griefing me?

Actually, it doesn’t matter. “Liam. That’s Harkon over there. Have spiders drag him away.”

A spider-bot peeks out from behind a vodka bottle. “Who? I don’t see anybody. Also, I’m a little busy.”

Unbelievable. “Are you stiffing me?”

“No, I’d love to help. Also, I have a question. My threat detector is going off the charts. Something is plowing through my spider-bots. It keeps getting faster. And circling closer to me. Is that Big Cheddar?”

“Sounds like Champion.”

“Champion? He’s in the colonies.”

“No, he’s back. I heard it on the news.”

“The news… haven’t been listening to that. Thought I knew everything…” Spider-bot flakes out and falls over.

Dammit Liam. You’re useless.

Blank is moving towards Harkon, leaving me behind. Crap. How can I be more intriguing than Harkon? Or… do I have to be? I’m already lying, let’s try weirder lies.

“Careful Blank. I told you it’s not safe to transfer the packet yet.”

She pauses, brow furrowed. Looks back. “Is he…”

“Of course.” I slide next to her. Whisper in her ear. “They can’t see you together. It’s too dangerous. You must meet. But only in a dream.”

She gives me a sly look.

I smile. “Ever play Dark City?”