[Banque Commerciale Asiatique apologizes for-]
SLAM!
I banged my fist against the virtually bulletproof ATM, frustration urging me to scream which I barely restrained.
The banks didn’t work. No withdrawals, no nothing. I did not expect them to completely cut off the district from all the infrastructure. We were lucky enough that the district had a typhoon generator. Yet it was old and barely maintained so blackouts were common enough for us to trade rice with the house next door for candles.
As for me? All I had was the very things I carried on my back days prior. Before, I had enough wealth to buy the half the damn district and for all that good that did me, as of this moment? I had nothing.
I didn’t know what to do next, before… I had plans to maybe climb the seats again after dealing with my classmates… but out of nowhere with no warning, those plans? Dashed away, leaving me unsure of where to continue. I had a safety net… but here? I could only survive, and call me bitter but it infuriated me to no end that I was stuck here and they were out there acting if the world didn’t change.
I was confused, I was angry… but honestly? I was scared… and really, that described what everyone felt, the district was hanging on by a thread.
Things were bad. Krash-day bad. It would’ve been worse if not for the Lotus Claw and District 4 SGPD reluctantly working together to keep order, but even then, it didn’t stop the killings from happening.
The same old Nguyen Huu-hao food street at the heart of the district was cordoned off as unnatural dark clouds permanently localised in a kilometre radius. The Lotus claw barely managed to recover bodies around the perimeter and for days ashes were dumped into the Saigon river. It was hard… watching the children wail as we cremated remains of their mother and father. For now, Huang took them in.
“No luck Boss?” I shook my head. Stepping inside, finding a seat and promptly plopped myself on it like a jellyfish out of water. The whirlpool of emotions leaving me exhausted.
Bang! Bang Bang!
Worse, the daily sounds of faint gunfire threatened to give me headaches.
“It’s been a week. Give it up! come help me cut these noodles.” Auntie Kon called from the back.
I obliged. Too tired to say otherwise.
Ever since that day, we decided it would be much safer to stay close and take advantage of the my Lotus claw afforded-protection, but even with said gang patrolling our block specifically, with opportunistic looters about, even Yana carried a knife with her these days in her guitar case.
Did I mention things have also gotten more dangerous?
I sighed, an action becoming too familiar with each passing day.
“Oi! Focus on the noodles!” Shit. Sorry.
“That’s the wrong ingredient! Do you know what a Shrimp is?!” Fuck.
Uhhhh… “That’s not oil that’s dish soap!”
I ignored the snickering and smug face of the (now designated) brat Yana, totally not taking pleasure when she got scolded for not paying attention. Hehe-
“Oi! concentrado! [focus]”
I didn’t even need the translation to know what that tone meant.
I sighed again, deciding to brush off thoughts of the quarantine, focusing on the back-breaking task at hand.
Ring ring.
The bell rang, indicating a customer or runner had come in. Auntie Kon went to check and came back promptly just as I was packing the takeaways, being demoted to packing duty.
“Huy, Jurogumo’s Repair & Clinic. 30 Orders… follow me” She motioned for me to follow out the back door into a small basement garage where a small scooter was parked.
“Right! here is a Supercub-C180, an automatic so no gears, made in 2028 so she’s pretty ancient, but back then things were made to last so good maintenance will take you far.” She ran a hand on the handles, reminiscing some long distant memory.
I nodded, strapping on a helmet. “Are you saying you’re ancient Auntie Kon?” I provided a cheeky jab hoping to lighten the mood. She snorted in return, before disregarding it and helped me load the food into the back, alumi-kard™ lining keeping the Bánh canh and Súp cua [Crab soup] hot.
“Anyhow, as long as you’re not dead and the food arrives, you’re doing something right.” She handed me a keyfob to the bike and taught me the basic operations. I had ridden bikes before for charities and PR events so it shouldn’t be too different I thought.
Then I heard a sigh.
“You don’t even know the way here.” She stated matter-of-factly, checking on the brakes. Do you really have to do this? The question- unspoken, yet all too clear.
Last night, we had a talk. Mostly about the state of the district and our plans going forward… where among said plans was for my idea to help out- specifically: ‘do deliveries for the store’. However, Auntie Kon was reluctant for me to do deliveries. It was too dangerous she argued, yet I countered by being stubborn, citing opportunity and necessity.
Highlight and Yana would do closer neighbourhood deliveries and Camille would assist the neighbourhood security- an arguably more dangerous role I noted. Which left me to do farther deliveries. Smarter looters wouldn’t mess with someone so obviously carrying marked goods, and I’d avoid the monsters with these eyes. It was the logical and efficient usage of human resources I thought.
But even more importantly, I… wanted to do something. All this time, it was always someone else doing the work and I coasted by. I hated it. The bankruptcy and I could do nothing. The beatings and I could do nothing. The massacre and I could do nothing. I despised it.
The dependency. The weakness.
I closed my eyes, forcing my emotions to calm. Breathing in the industrial scent of gasoline and copper. I reached for my breath- my Pneuma within, stilling.
Besides… we needed the ‘money’ and with monsters about it was unlikely the people were going to come to the store anyhow.
Still, we negotiated for hours until she relented… noting how: ‘I’d have done it behind her back even if she said no’. Which was not incorrect.
“I’ll be safe.” Confident and calm. I stated the words plainly.
Yet, she still felt the same reluctance- her eyes said as much, if not the Pneuma pinging off me.
Without another attempt, She turned back to the store with a huff. “Come back early.” I could hear her stomping, a curse muttering under her breath.
Kthunk! Kachung Kachung Kachung…
As the metal shutter rolled up lazily, revealing the smell of smoke and a street almost devoid of life. I dug into my pockets, fishing out an outdated map with notes and annotation by Highlight detailing newer routes coloured in by markers and highlighters.
Bang! Bang!
The sound of faint gunfire once again picking up. It was routine now.
Hmmm… alright… how best to get there?
----------------------------------------
I arrived about 30 minutes late? I think? Like a child in the process of learning how to swim, it took getting used to… having to rely on an analogue map and clock. Really, who thought it was a good idea to only display a 12 and some few black bars? Still, I made it. The small scooter letting me drive into small cramp alleyways cutting across the more… ominous presences I’d felt.
I checked the temp-gauge on the handlebar. Only about a degree celsius cooler so the food was still hot and good. Perfect.
Slowly… easy does it, I parked right next to the crates right in front of the Rep’nic. My handling of the bike was still tad stiff. Regardless, I had no issue, the Lotus Claw guards even helped me unpack the orders. The smell, hearty and homey, with a faint scent of hot shrimp and broth diffusing into the air.
However, unlike the food, the lobby was empty and sterile- smell uniquely medicinal- perhaps even bitter. I had to carry the orders the remaining way to the ‘office’, eyes taking in the strange mix of hospital and repair shop meshed as one.
I climbed up on the raised platform and knocked on the hatch labelled ‘Office’.
Knock Knock. That was the 4 month PR manners training.
“Auntie Kon’s special delivery!”
It creaked open slowly like the lid of a huntsman spider’s nest, and Ms Jurogumo’s head popped out, medigel slime rolling off her. ‘Ms’ because it was proper… and she was fucking creepy.
“Order late. No matter. Give me the orders. Haste recommended. Thanks given.”
She handed me a letter with her signature on it, demonstrating that I had indeed delivered her the order- and that she wanted the Lotus Claws to facilitate the reward payment via one and a half crates of assorted meds.
I scanned the letter and compared it to the one the runner gave us. It was a match. Good business.
“Thank you for your patronage and support! Buen provecho and chúc ngon miệng!” And that was the 34 minute delivery training.
Yet, before I could take off, one of her other arms grabbed hold of my right arm. In my shock, I almost deployed the shock-gloves I was wearing.
“Wait. Delivery has not come back. Urgent job needed. Will pay one crate.” In her other arms, she took a piece of double-layered paper and proceeded to etch in another delivery request, placing the finished work in my right hand. “Agreement?”
Hmmm…
I mulled the proposal over my head. On the one hand, it was extra work- but that’s what I was out here to do right? To make a small difference no matter how small? Furthermore, that’s another crate of meds. Medicine was easily tradable and wanted. I couldn’t afford to let this opportunity slip by.
Really, I could only say one thing.
I gave a deep bow “I accept.”
----------------------------------------
Honestly, it was a simple delivery. This neighbourhood banded together to order a list of medicines together, so I just had to drive to the houses by the Saigon river and deliver the small packages of risulin and medicine at designated spots. Most of the time it was for smaller clinics, otherwise it was for small families and individuals, like the last delivery, and if I wasn’t on the lookout for strange feelings and stranger pneuma I honestly would’ve enjoyed it. The road was quiet and peaceful.
Though still abit stiff, I managed to park outside the cream townhouse smoothly, admiring the small park next to the river. I slapped myself lightly and with a practiced smile, I rang the buzzer.
Buzz Buzz!
An exotic in her 40s opened the door, dark circles under her eyes clashing harshly against bright cherry horns. Everything screamt ‘neon!’.
“Jurogumo’s Repair and Clinic! If you could just sign here-”
“Oh! The medicine stock is here! Ah! Dearie, please come in for the coffee! You must’ve been so brave driving here!” She barraged, I couldn’t even mutter a ‘no’ before being dragged in for coffee where the ram horned woman had already began making the coffee, hands extensively modified pouring in the condensed milk without a moment’s hesitation.
“Don’t worry Dearie, even Juro loves my Cà phê sữa đá! She ought to really show up more! Why that ridiculous woman ought to-!” She shook her head, clearly frustrated. “Bah! I’m getting ahead of myself.”
I didn’t reply, but rather just sat on the chair looking everywhere else- feeling awkward and embarrassed about the whole thing. Hmm… cookie and cream walls, tasteful.
“I have to say though! I loveee~ love Love! Your horns! Did Juro help you graft them- the lines are so natural!” The words were almost a blur as she almost zoomed around the kitchen, shelves and cupboards flying open in a flurry of activity.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Ah! No- they’re natural-” Getting caught up by the rhythm before I could shut my mouth.
“Ou! OU! I see! Well then welcome to my humble home little princeling!- though I must say Juro’s work is-” She gave a chef’s kiss gesture. “I think she's among the only ones left in the city who is rated to do high level neural surgery- speedware ya know?”
I was getting the impression she knew this fact first hand. Subtly, I took a quick peek at the window. It wasn’t dark yet but it was soon to be and I didn’t want to stay out too late. By now, Auntie Kon would’ve surely noticed that I hadn’t returned as quickly as I expected and I didn’t want to worry her. “Ah- I-”
Ding!
Dammit.
“Oh! That's the kettle! This won’t be long!” She hummed to herself, impossibly nonchalant as she poured in the boiled water, the strong scent of sweet coffee rising with the steam.
“Uhhh ma’am-”
“Oh right! I’m Tram though I prefer ‘RAMS’, now tell how has my Juro been? Ou! I hope she didn’t force you into doing this.” The words were fast and energetic, the rate perhaps rivalling Saigon's nuclear reactors. So much so that my brain barely processed the words. Worse, emotions of happiness and giddiness blinded me, threatening to overwhelm me. “Ah well, no matter! Now now, tell me what you think of this dearie?” She fished into her hand purse, an action making me wary, I mentally reached for the shock-gloves, confirming it was working.
“Ugh Where was it- Ouu! Here!”
In her hands was a small… phone? But it was even more retro and lacked a real display panel. Furthermore, instead of being slim like the old adverts I’d seen, it was more like a brick. Not a phone then. At closer inspection it was black and yellow with plastic grills and numbered buttons and an antennae-
Wait. I think I sorta recognized it. “It's a ‘walkie talkie’?” I asked.
“Correct and Incorrect.” She laughed behind her hand. “To be more specific it’s a radio.”
What’s the difference? I turned the little radio over, inspecting every nook and cranny. Curiosity overpowering caution.
“The difference- little princeling is that: this is a UV5S Boofwang!” She triumphantly declared. Lifting the brick like a trophy.
I cocked my head, not sure what her explanation even meant.
“Okay- so- ham radio? Ya heard?”
I shook my head no. That didn’t ring a bell.
“Righty-o, so city wide communications are down right? N-comms access restricted and the like? I’m THE pro-decker, so I’ve been tinkering kiddo and I’ve found a solution!” She passed me the little bumblebee coloured brick before going into a different room. I stood dumbly wondering whether to follow or not.
Then the radio cackled to life. In shock, I almost dropped the damn thing. “Radio! yada yada simply- this has more band access- or in your terms channels than your average walkie talkie- it can even communicate to space!” The voice was a tad hard to hear, little sounds of popcorn interrupting her words once or twice. Not an issue though.
“Best part? The thing is so ancient that the last known international regulation was issued by the United States before they went isolationist! No interference, so anybody with a similar device could listen in on the many virtually unused channels!” The cackling died. Ms Tram walked back, a smile etched widely on her face. “Cool eh?”
“Damn, Yeah.” I was stunned, this could literally solve so many problems! Strap ‘em to homes and suddenly our communication blackout issue would be fixed!
“She’s been chained to her work I tell you! This way she’d get a good scolding from me even in that little woman cave of hers! Hmph! Why I ought to-”
Deciding to stop the suppressive hail of ranting that was coming, I decided to interrupt. “Ms RAMS, do you have any plans on… making it- uhhh… district wide?”
I had a plan forming, this would be too useful for us. I’m sure she’d need some extra hands… With my experience and the muscle we got, I’m sure we could work something out. Though, better lay the foundation for cooperation first, then-
“Ehhhhh? You’re asking me to work?” She draped over the chair like a cat. The once vibrant woman was replaced with a sea cucumber. Just a blob of laziness. “Dun wanna tho.”
-from there, get a trade going from there, fix the contact issue via customer points of contact-
What?
“Dun wanna.” She simply stated. “Ask Juro all about that.” She waved me off, yawning. “I just wanna you pass the Boofwang to Juro before tonight so I can talk to her.”
I stared at her in shock, mouth gaping like a carp. I wanted to say something, to convince her otherwise- but I also didn’t want to risk any future relationship either. Besides, the small prickling of annoyance told my gut to just… leave it be.
I reverted to a PR worthy smile. “Ah, that's a shame then. Is there anything we can do for you ma’am?”
“Hmmm let’s see…” She got up and contemplatively tapped on the phin, making sure the coffee dripped all the remaining coffee into the condensed milk and crushed ice mixture. “OH! Oh! Also! Tell her that our roof is growing mushrooms somehow and that she should look into it!” She said happily, seemingly pleased with herself as she packed the coffee cups in aluminium cardboard and handed them to me with a smile on her face.
I nodded and scribbled down a bullet point to relay it back to Ms Jurogumo afterwards.
“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer! Oh- The right one is yours! Now hurry, before it gets dark!”
Without complaint I took the coffees and the boofwang radio, making for the scooter.
At the end of the day it was extra work, but I didn’t mind too much? I was going to go back to the repair clinic for the crates anyways, and the extra crate of medicine was well worth the additional task.
Still, depressingly routine, I found myself sighing as I packed the coffees in the back box. The sky was getting dark, the blue hue telling it was a good idea to start heading back.
----------------------------------------
It was already a long day I thought. Restaurant to Juro’s, then to D4 Riversides, then back to Juro’s again and finally back to the Restaurant. The sky was dark enough to warrant me turning on the lights. I was very late.
Still, it was a good first day I thought. For one, watching Ms Jurogumo die inside at the mention of Ms RAMS was quite amusing.
I patted the plastic crates as I filled the gas tank with a sack of potatoes worth of gas. Thump thump. Very good day.
I took a look at the analogue clock. The shorthand was abit past the… 5th bar? and the longhand somewhere around the 4th bar- so about 5 something something PM? Well, I got to-
“Hup! One two tree!!”
Why… Why is there a little boy playing hopscotch on patches of mushrooms and flowers in the middle of the street?
I mean… there was no one else driving these days but it didn’t mean it was safe!
I took a look around. Where was this kid’s parents?
Shock gloves flickered to life, I could feel the electricity buzzing at my fingertips. My mind went to a small pen knife I had tucked in the front pocket. No Pneuma- No strange emotions so probably no strange human-eating monsters.
Didn’t mean there wasn’t a threat. Looters were plenty. I made sure to eye the alleys just in case they were lying in wait or something.
Still, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to just walk away.
“Oi! Kiddo!”
The kid, about six years old, wearing a pink doraemon T-shirt and bright yellow sneakers, turned to look at me with a dumb look on his face as he pointed to himself, head cocked to the side in seeming confusion.
I cleared my voice, hoping to make it simple to understand. “Yeah you! Go home kid!”
But instead of running home, the kid just ran up to me instead. I felt like I wanted facepalm.
“Uh uh You wanna play Filbofump? Filbofump need two tweams!” He asked, bouncing on his feet as he held up a wooden can. “I pwomise it's really fun!”
It was getting dark and only getting darker. “Look, you can play tomorrow, but you gotta go home it’s getting late and-”
“No! If I go home and I can’t play it! my frends gonna laugh at me” He pouted and then stuck his tongue out.
“Let's play!”
I pinched my nose, not knowing what to do. I didn’t even know where to take the kid to, the Lotus Claws weren't the best place to go to right now and the SGPD… yeah. “Alright, one game okay? Then you go home.”
“Tree!”
“One.”
“Four?”
“One.”
“Fine then, stinky! Dummy! No fun!” The kid walked backwards and put the wooden can on the ground, scrunched up his nose in concentration, then with a running start, kicked it. With Pneuma.
The wooden can floated in the air only to fall short in front of me. I ignore the boy cackling, laughing at himself at the can flopping about. I picked it up.
It was warm to the touch, like someone placed it in an oven.
“I just kick it?” A million questions ran in my head.
“Uh huh! leg only!”
‘How did he do that?‘ The top in that list. ‘Who are you?’ the second. He didn’t even exude any sort of Pneuma at all. What was that about?
The kid bounced on the balls of his feet, springing, seemingly boundless in energy. “Uh uh! Yeah! You just woof and it’ll go woooooosh weee!” He gestured with his arms expanding outwards, mouthing the words ‘Woof!’
I kicked the can gently. It rose and fell in an arc. Normally.
“Nuh uh! You gotta woof it!” He did the same gesture again. Like breathing?
I did the same, breathing out as I kicked. Same result.
“Woah you’re sucky, like this” The kid toddled up to me, snatching the can and then with a swift motion, Exhaling- Expelling the Pneuma with the tips of his foot. The can flew into the air staying afloat rather than falling.
“Huh, Why is it different?” I asked out loud. Finding myself more confused.
The cheeky kid put his hands in his pocket, smug look on his face. “Cwooler like that”
Once again I took hold of the wooden can and placed it in front of me.
This time however, I closed my eyes. I thought back to Camille, to Sensei. Whether they knew it or not, they used the strange energy. I was certain of it, she used it to cushion the hit, and Sensei gathered it and used it to also ‘cushion’ his punch which seemingly sliced the air.
Breath in.
I could feel the warmth at the base of my throat, inefficiently rising a small bit for every gram of air I sucked in. I could feel my lungs fill up.
More. More. MORE.
I didn’t stop. Time crawled. I could feel the moisture of the air, the scent of wet concrete- hear dripping of water beneath my feet. My lungs were nearly at max capacity, but it wasn’t enough!
Even more!
Heat tickled the pharynx, the taste almost honey-like.
I opened my eyes, staring and focusing on the annoying can, my emotions heightened and sensitive, morphing the irritation into ugly anger. I pictured kicking it and making it float like a hot air balloon.
Now!!
I swallowed down the heat. Visualising the heat snaking towards my right foot, and when I felt it. The familiar warmth at the base of my leg. I kicked.
The can went straight up.
Cough Cough! Cough!
My knees hit the concrete hard. Hands catching the fall as I hacked angrily. My lungs felt like it was on fire, the cold sweat glued my hair to my forehead-
COUGH COUGH!
I spat out a lick of flame.
Only then did my lungs settle. Deep breathes. In. Out. I powered through the burning sensation and stabilised my breathing, calming myself, washing my anger away- feeling a bit shy.
“Wooo woo!” The boy bounced up and down, his eyes sparkled, pointing to the can, which floated in the air… like a balloon. “You did the Woosh!!!”
I remembered a quote by a 70s Texan oil baron: “Wisdom truly can come from anywhere.” - Susan M.
Cough.
I gave a weak thumbs up. Still catching my breath.
----------------------------------------
“That was fun!”
I nodded, a smile on my lips. We never did recover the wooden can, but made do with an empty can of beans instead. Though, I never truly got to replicate the kick again, but despite the excitement that was fine I thought. I didn’t exactly want to cough up my lungs again and honestly, I’d have plenty of time later- after being scolded by Auntie Kon of course- to test it out again. There was no hurry.
“Yeah, you were right kiddo, it was really fun” I found myself lightened by the makeshift game of ‘Filbofump’ if I was honest. It took my mind off the recent events even if briefly.
“Alright here, do you want me to talk to your parents for you?” I asked. Taking the kid- ‘Minh’ I learnt, off my shoulders. Setting him right down as I noticed the junkies in the hallway eye us suspiciously.
Little Minh just shook his head. “Nuh uh, they’re bwusy all the time so I can open the door myself.” At that he took his yellow sneakers off and placed them by the shoe cabinet.
“Alright then, remember what I told you?” I kneeled in front of him, holding my pinky out.
He took my pinky with his own. “Never play in the stweets at night! And If my frends say I’m bad at Filbofump, I’ll say that their wings are poopy!”
“Oi, a gentleman must not say that to a girl kid” I wanted to facepalm when little Minh just cocked his head to the side, not understanding a fraction of what I said.
“Ah… you’ll understand when you get older.” I tousled his hair affectionately. “Alright, I’m gonna go home now okay?”
“Mkay. Bai bai!” without another word the kid turned and closed the door.
Cute kid, really. If you ignore the obsession with butt jokes.
I took a glance at the sky. Yikes. I was definitely in trouble for sure.
I was thinking of ways to apologise to Auntie Kon when the elevator opened and a kind looking middle-aged couple walked out, both carrying groceries. The first thing that caught my attention however was their likeness to Minh. I shouldn’t assume, but I thought it was a good idea to give a heads up regardless, they seemed like they needed it.
“Hello, I’m Huy. On the way home I saw your son and took him home-” Something was wrong.
Their eyes were wide, faces pale. They both pushed past me roughly, springing like a snake dropping their groceries.
“MINH! MINH!” The mom wailed as she ran towards the apartment door.
My heart was pumping, I got up and hurried to follow. Standing just outside. What was happening?
“Minh! Minh!” I could hear the dad call out from within the apartment, his voice filled with anguish.
“M-minh! He was here! H-his sneakers!”
“MINH! Minh! Where are you? Where are you!”
He was just here.
“Poor family. It’s such a heartbreak.”
I turned around where an elderly woman in her pyjamas carrying groceries walked past, yet her eyes stayed on the form of the couple hugging the bright yellow sneakers as if their life depended on it.
“What do you mean?” I asked, the words bitter in my mouth.
The elderly woman gave me a pitying look.
“Little Minh went missing at the park a month ago.”
I felt my blood go cold.