Dark City - Dark Streets
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check your number and try your call again.”
I frown at my phone. “Seriously?”
What number did you try? asks Volt.
“Nine-one-one.”
That’s not good. Oh hey, we got a pop-up ad.
- NEED EMERGENCY SERVICES? CALL 9-1-2!
“Unbelievable.” I dial nine-one-two. Look over the dark city while it rings. “How long was I asleep?”
I think it’s been a minute.
A robotic voice crackles to life over the phone. “This is Emergency Services. What is your location?”
I peer around in the dark. “Uh, 689 Avenue Broadway Nord.”
“What is your citizen ID?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Someone is trying to kill me.”
“It is an offense to withhold your citizen ID from Emergency Services.”
“Cool, I still don’t know. Also, there’s a murderer after me?”
“There is a criminal detainment center 4 blocks from you.” A map pops up on my phone. “Please proceed there for processing.”
“Are you helping me or arresting me?”
“You are surrendering for arrest.”
“What about the murderer?”
“You’ll be safe from him in prison.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me.”
“Acknowledged. Please stay where you are. A resisting arrest response drone has dispatched to your location.”
I hang up the phone. Look at the multitudes of drones flying overhead. At the graffiti on the walls. They did warn me. “Shall we mosey on?”
Probably a good idea. Oh hey, we got another ad pop up.
- TROUBLE WITH EMERGENCY SERVICES? TRY 9-1-3!
Hmm… Is this phone listening to us? Should I turn off the personalized ad service?
“Yes, do that. And the location service. They must be tracking us.”
Yeah, they must be. Also, you told them where we are.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Did I? Fuck. I forgot about that. The map pop-up threw me off.”
I’m just gonna delete the entire map application.
“Cool. Is there any other way for them to track us?”
Like a virus? Probably? I have no idea.
Me neither. “Should I smash the phone?”
Seems extreme. You could just set me down.
That’s fair. I pause in thought. Man, I’m exhausted. The cops are gonna be here any minute. And so will I, because I’m barely moving. Hell, I can still hear the psycho freaking out in my old apartment. My top speed is not good.
A small saucer drone descends to intercept me. Fuck.
So what’s up? Are you gonna smash me?
“Nope. I’m kinda freaking out, and don’t wanna be alone. What’s this drone up to?”
What drone? Is there a drone around?
“The drone in front of me. Also, there’s drones flying everywhere.”
Really? I thought those were birds. Maybe you should smash me…
The saucer drone hovers before me. I brace for a tasering, but a cloud of flying ants pour out instead. They swarm around me for a few seconds, then buzz back into their flying saucer.
The saucer emits a bing, then fires a business card at me. I snag it. In bold letters it proclaims:
- YOUR DEATH IS IMMINENT.
“That’s some tough talk, ants. Not sure you can back that up.”
There’s a QR code on the back of the card.
“Really?”
Yeah, hold me up.
I help Volt scan the code.
Oh shit. You’re having multiple medical emergencies. Heart, liver, kidneys - all shot. Arteries leaking. Rotten with cancer. How are you even standing?
“I dunno. I’d love to lie down.”
Xan, we gotta deal with this. Get you to a doctor.
“Cool, I’ll put it on the list.” A man-like figure is approaching from the darkness. Man-like, except for dozens of whip thin tentacles writhing from all parts of his body. He crosses the street to pass us by.
The psycho is getting louder. Is he on the move? The alien ant farm bobs around me. Cops have gotta be here soon. My knees hurt.
“Okay. Operation Run Away has failed. Let’s find somewhere to hide.”
We slip into the next apartment megaplex. Lock the ants outside. Wander the halls, trying doorknobs, peaking in open rooms. See a lot of old, sweaty, sleeping people. Finally find an empty apartment. Collapse on the bed.
“I feel awful.”
Well, you are dying.
“Maybe I’m hungry.”
We ransack the apartment for food. Nothing but bowls and a single spoon. Eventually, we find a chunky, third tap in the kitchen sink. A thick gray goo oozes out of it. Smells salty. I pour a bowl. It’s not bad. Slimy texture, but salty and filling. I have another helping.
I feel better after eating, but also very tired. “What now?”
We have to get you to a doctor.
“And get a gun.”
Sure. But this is the longest you’ve been awake in decades. You probably need some rest.
“Oh thank goodness. Wait - if I sleep, will I go back to the dream game?”
You can. Do you want to?
“May as well. I have to sleep anyway, and I’d like some pizza. And to have a wet dream while strangers listen. Wait! Is Harkon still trying to kill me?”
I dunno. Who cares? It’s just a dream game. It doesn’t matter if you die.
“Right. That makes sense.” I shrug. “Fuck it, let’s play.”