Bright City - Sidewalk Cafe

A chunk of skydrone craters into the busy street. It didn’t splatter anyone, so it’s generally ignored. The spider-bot barista and I share a bemused shrug. He sloshes a cheezy coffee at me. “On the house.”

“Thanks bud.”

Volt waves me towards a bistro table under a flowering apple tree. We relax and plan our day.

“You have a few messages. Crypto-bankers mostly. One from the symbiont clinic.”

“What does the clinic want?”

“It’s just a notification that life has no meaning and can’t be given one.”

“Really? I thought we were supposed to give our lives meaning?”

Volt shrugs. “Not possible, apparently.”

“Well, that’s a time saver. What’s the word on Harkon? Have we found him?”

“Ah, no. We’re supposed to give Liam his personality profile, but we haven’t. Because we have two million profiles to choose from and we haven’t even tried.”

I nod. “Alright. Let’s see if we can narrow it down. He’s a man. That’s gotta cut out half the options.”

“Is he though? Also, I think the panopticon measures intent. Is there such a thing as male intent?”

I frown in thought. “Wants vagina? Likes football?”

“And Harkon wants those things?”

“I dunno. He’s lousy at small talk. It’s part of the reason I wanna kill him.” I regroup. “Okay, forget the man shit. Intent. Intent. He’s relentlessly confrontational. Prone to violence. I wanna say, for ideological reasons? Maybe? I haven’t really been listening. I’d say he’s confident. Unless he’s compensating for something. This is hard.”

Volt waves away my concerns. “You’re doing great. Not narrowing down our list, but that’s not your fault. Fucking city’s full of bloodthirsty narcissists. Do you know his favorite food? Hobbies? Pornographic preferences?”

I shake my head glumly. “No. The man’s opaque. I never get to see who's behind the yelling and the shooting.”

“Do we know anything unusual about him?”

“I dunno. He’s got some weird tech. Maybe there’s a lead there. Got to be getting it somewhere. Or at least the components for it. If we can figure out who sells it, we could peg him when he’s doing a buy. It would be the perfect ambush.”

Volt looks skeptical. “The perfect ambush would be poisoning his toilet seat. What you’re describing is exactly how Harkon ambushes us. And we’ve escaped everytime. That’s hardly perfect.”

“It’s emotionally perfect. And emotions are a big part of why we’re killing him. I’m pissed that he’s trying to steal my crypto…” I freeze. Slowly put down my cheezy coffee. “But that’s not quite right, is it? During Billy’s bank heist, he didn’t steal the crypto, he destroyed it. Mother fucker… How many guys are trying to melt crypto? That’s gotta be unusual.”

Volt pauses in thought. “It’s probably rare, but our profiles are from behavior in Dark City. There’s no crypto there to destroy. Wouldn’t show up on a profile.”

“Bullshit. We spent a ton of crypto there.”

“We spent it in our sleep. Here. I delivered it while you were napping. It physically never went to Dark City because it can’t. It’s just a dream game.”

I scowl. “I’m getting mad just thinking about this. Don’t ever let me sleep spend again. Also, this is fucking system destruction. Harkon’s melting crypto to destroy the system. He’ll be trying to fuck up Dark City too. What’s the Dark City equivalent of crypto?”

Volt freezes so hard, she may have blue screened. “That’s a… interesting question. Can I get back to you on that? I may need to sleep on it.”

Weird. “Uh… okay. Do you need help with anything?”

“No. Maybe. I’m probably just distracted by our imminent danger.”

“wat?” I notice it’s got real quiet. The streets are still bustling, but the cafe has cleared out. There’s a large man seated at the table across from us. Bald, suit, soul patch. Hovering above him are two security drones. Bright plastic, dark rubber, and gunmetal. A submachine gun pointed at each of us.

“Hi.” The big man smiles. “Were you guys talking about ambushes? Interesting stuff.”

Fuck.

“What do you want?”

“I’d like a day off. But, Crypto Bro would like you to answer your messages.”

Ah. This is a sales meeting. Could be worse. The gun drones loom. Could be better. Perhaps I left the powers that be on read for too long.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I study the man across from me. It isn't Crypto Bro. Which makes sense, he’s the second richest guy in Bright City. Probably doesn't run his own errands. This is some kind of surrogate minion. A Crypto Dude, if you will.

In theory, anyone can mint crypto. In practice, Crypto Bro makes all of it. Because it costs three cryptos worth of electricity to mint one crypto. A losing proposition. Unless someone else pays the electric bill.

Crypto minting is basically pouring math and electricity into a supercomputer to get money and heat pouring out. Many people have tried to monetize the waste heat to recoup the electrical costs, but Crypto Bro was the first to succeed. With crypto minting hot water heater rentals. You rent the heaters and pay for the electricity. He provides the hot water and keeps the crypto. It’s insane, but everyone has one. I have one.

Anywho, it’s rumored he leveraged his minting scam to seize control of the cryptobank industry. I figure it’s true, because I ignored questions from the cryptobanks and now he’s looking for the answers. With gundrones.

Ironically, they may be the least of my problems. Because Volt is oozing into a weird shape. Her gundrone points at me as she defies its expectations of a target. Which gives her a sneak attack bonus and fills me with worry. She was designed to identify and autonomously deal with threats. Which was a questionable idea, even before I gave her self propelled grenades. I really hope she doesn’t fire hunter drones at the next table. I would be perforated.

The big guy and I watch in quiet horror as a cubist Volt gently lobs shiny balls at each sec-drone. They arc up, over, then down - sucked into the quadcopter’s downdraft. The sec-drones struggle, but each has one rotor badly fouled. With only three working, they can maintain altitude or position, but not both. Choosing not to crash, they simply fly away.

I nod in simulated satisfaction, like I knew that was going to happen. Point my chin at Crypto Dude. “Get rid of him. Permanently.”

“Listen up, Mother Fucker!!!” Volt slams a grenade down on the table. “If I ever see you again, I’ll fucking kill us all!”

Crypto Dude is stunned. So am I. “What the hell, Volt? Are you planning a murder-suicide? You’re supposed to threaten him, not us.”

“I thought this would show we’re serious.”

“Seriously stupid. He’s probably laughing at us.”

Crypto Dude demurres. “No, no. I’d very much like to leave. But… we really need those threat detectors.” He hunches into a shrug and makes the apology face. “It’s grim out there.”

The nerve. “You wanna do business? After you tried to rob me at gunpoint?”

“No, no. We didn’t try to rob you.” He reaches behind his table, slides out a large, cubic, briefcase. “We tried to pay you at gunpoint.”

He flips open the case. It’s packed solid with buzzing crypto harddrives.

“Oh my.” says Volt.

“Indeed.” I agree. “Hey, should we just take this?”

“Please don’t.” begs Crypto Dude. “Do you really want to live in a world where Big Cheddar owns everything? Cause that’s where we’re headed if we can’t get smarter drones to protect our banks.”

I’m skeptical. A spider-bot served me coffee and a chunk of skydrone nearly fell on me. Big Cheddar has more competition than Crypto Bro. “Somebody will make another black market currency.”

“But will those people pay you?” Crypto Dude points to the jackpot briefcase. “Because - if the cryptobanks fold - that will be worth nothing.”

Huh. Interesting point. “I don't particularly like Crypto Bro."

"Understandable." Crypto Dude nods. "I don't either."

The crypto buzzes tantalizingly. "Be a shame to waste all that money."

"It really would."

"Alright, fuck it. Give him the algorithms.”

Volt tosses Dude a packet of threat detectors. He looks very relieved, and hustles off. I snag the jackpot briefcase, rifle through it. “That went fairly well.”

There’s a huge angry roar from down the street, followed by a few explosions.

“Resist! Resist them all! Run, die, or take the oath!”

God dammit.

The explosions, gunfire, and angry shouting send everyone running and screaming. Apparently the citizens of Bright City - who ignore armed robberies, spider-bot invasions, and prolonged drone battles - are freaked out by Harkon on a rampage. That must be gratifying.

I stare balefully at the hulking spatial distortion as it blasts fire and lead in all directions. A pair of angry, vee shaped hunter drones circle him in a tight orbit. I should probably run, but I have my own emotional needs.

“Sounds like Harkon.” says Volt.

“Can you seriously not see that?”

“I can see something’s going on over there. Shall we skedaddle?”

“Not yet. Initiate the Harkon Protocol.”

Volt stills. “Parameters?”

“Carpet bomb west.”

Volt emits a small beep, then rapidly fires a dozen hunter drones due west. They arc up, separate into a spiral pattern, before dropping down to flood the entire street with incendiary shrapnel.

We admire the huge cloud of dust and smoke. That should do it. We couldn’t aim directly at Harkon, but he’s in there somewhere. I consider it a job well done, until bursts of bullets emerge from the haze.

“Crap!” Volt dives in front of me. Her magnetron thrums as she gives her semi-solid body as much rigidity as she can.

Chunks of tables, tiles, and Volt shower us as the questing bursts of lead spray seek our position.

“Do another carpet bomb!”

“I’m out of hunter drones!”

The hail of death pushes Volt back. I support her as best I can, wincing at the painful reverberations of each strike. We’re in trouble. Barely hanging on, even though most of the blind shots are missing us. When the smog clears, we’re toast.

But even as I’m thinking that, it does clear, and the shots trickle to a stop. I pant and take stock. Volt’s malleable form is unmarred, but a fair bit slimmer. I’m also intact, but feel like yesterday's pinata. A peek over Volt’s shoulder shows Harkon unbowed, but looking smaller and somehow more real. His drones are gone, and the street around him looks less damaged than elsewhere. He mitigated some of the blast, somehow.

He gives a short nod, then walks off. I guess we’re done.

“Are we good?” asks Volt.

“Yeah, he’s leaving. Out of ammo. Or hurt. Or scared. Maybe that’s just me. Anyway, we fought him off.”

“Did we? I thought maybe he accomplished his objective.” Volt points at the jackpot briefcase. It’s blown to smithereens.

“Mother Fucker!”