12 – Stop Killing Time
Addie sat on her favorite stool behind the counter of her father’s shop, watching Tony chat with Mr. Nguyen just outside the door. He’d been sweeping while her father packaged some online sales, but the talkative bodega owner wasn’t letting him get much done. It was kind of funny watching Tony lean on the broom handle and make small talk like a regular old shopkeeper. Addie couldn’t hear them, but Donald Nguyen was laughing more than talking, which was always a good sign.
Her AUI beeped, and she saw a new response from Bonnie, the sister of the fade Tony had led out to the skeleton buildings:
Bonnie: No, she never had any transitions that didn’t seem painful, not until she started losing her mind, and then I figured they were still painful, but she didn’t have the ability to say anything about it. Once she saw her first glimpse of the other side, she pretty much stopped making sense after about a week.
Addie mentally “typed” a response, thinking the words much the way she would speak to JJ without vocalizing.
Addie: Can you remember any exact words or phrases she used after that first time? I mean, when she crossed over.
As her chat program indicated that Bonnie received the message, she looked down at her tablet and continued editing her vid; she was hoping to upload a segment about the fade that evening. Her mind kept slipping back to her conversation with Bonnie, though, and how different her sister’s plight had seemed from what Addie had been going through. Addie’s “fades” had never hurt; in fact, she didn’t feel them at all. She kept looking at the chat screen, waiting for a response, then out the window at Tony, standing there, leaning on the broom, chatting away.
He was wearing his new jean jacket—old and faded and soft, embroidered with a green dragon on the back. He’d bought a few pairs of pants, some T-shirts, and a few odds and ends. After a little shopping, he’d left with a big sack of clothes in exchange for only eighty-seven bits. “Not a bad idea for me to take you there, was it?” she muttered, trying to remember if Tony had even thanked her for the suggestion.
“Pardon me, Addie?”
“Nothing, JJ.”
She sighed and turned back to her editing, only to look up again when something crashed in the stockroom, and her dad issued one of his non-cuss words—in this case, “Fritters!”
“Are you okay?” she called.
“Fine! Dropped a box of magnets on my foot.”
“What’s he doing with a box of magnets, JJ?”
“I imagine he intends to sell them. Perhaps they’re on consignment.”
“They better be some special magnets.” Addie sighed, stretching out her arm on the counter and resting her head on it. She wasn’t really tired, but she was frustrated. She wasn’t sure why; the footage she’d gotten of Tony and the fade would surely boost her follower and view counts. She’d already gained another hundred followers since morning, which was very exciting, but for some reason, Addie didn’t feel it.
“I want to help someone. I want to solve one of these problems, JJ, but I never find a solution. I sure find more problems, though.”
“Would it help if we played a game? You’re excellent at puzzles, Addie.”
Addie giggled at JJ’s sad attempt to help her “solve problems.” She yawned and sat up straight, then looked back at her tablet. Using her AUI hooks, she rearranged some of the footage, adding some music to the parts of the chase she thought were interesting enough to post. The whole thing was great, but everyone said the algorithm was kinder to vids under a minute long. Her message window flashed, and she glanced at it:
Bonnie: My memories aren’t that clear. I remember screaming. Lots of screaming. I think she said something about being looked at. Yeah. ‘They’re looking at me!’ Stuff like that. She was never clear again. Never even acted like she could comprehend my words.
Addie could tell Bonnie was getting upset by the memories, and she didn’t want to lose her, so she tried to ease off a little.
Addie: That’s so awful, Bonnie! Let me do some more research and work on my story a little, and maybe I can message you again? Maybe some more details might come to you.
She’d just turned back to her editing when her window flashed. She looked back, expecting to see a response from Bonnie, but it was from Jamal Hoshock:
Jamal H: Yo! I got your flick and checked out that vid. Daaamn, doll! You blowin up! Hell yeah I’ll meet again. You gonna bring Shep?
Addie grinned, bouncing her toes on the stool’s footrest in excitement. “One good vid, just a few hundred followers, and I’m already getting some cred, JJ!”
His tinny voice warbled his triumphant praise, “Outstanding, Addie!”
Still smiling ear to ear, Addie responded:
Addie: Jamal, that’s so great! I’ll try to bring him, but he’s his own person. How about tomorrow night? It’s Boxer Day, and we can meet at the street fair. By the way, if you thought last night’s vid was fire, you need to look at tonight’s! Tell your friends.”
She’d barely hit send when her window flashed again:
Bonnie: Sounds good. I’m going to kill this box of wine sitting on my counter. HMU if you want in on it.
“Wha—” Her surprised reaction was cut short as the window flashed:
Jamal H: Damn right! Boxer Day! 1 day a year those fools give a freebie. Find me near the food trucks.
“Sup?” Somehow, Tony had come inside and approached the counter without Addie noticing. She jumped so much when he spoke that she almost fell off her stool.
“Lunatic! Don’t sneak up!”
“Sheesh.” He walked past her to lean the broom in its spot next to the Braum Buzz-Cola dispenser.
“Sorry, but you startled me.” She glanced to the front of the store and saw no sign of Mr. Nguyen. “That was a fast escape.”
Tony followed her gaze and cocked his head at her. “Mr. Nguyen?”
“Yeah. He likes to talk…”
“Nah, Donny’s great. He mostly laughed at my dumb antics. Besides, I killed almost half an hour out there.”
“That reminds me of a quote—not sure who said it.” When Addie didn’t continue but leaned over her tablet and continued to work, Tony groaned, walked back to the counter, and leaned dramatically on his elbow, staring into Addie’s eyes. She pulled back a little. “What?”
“You can’t tell me I reminded you of a quote and then not share the rotten quote!”
“Oh!” Addie laughed. “I didn’t think you’d like it—”
“Are you busting my balls?”
“Am I what?” Addie leaned further away from him.
Tony groaned and tapped his forehead against the countertop. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”
Addie glared at him for a moment, wondering if she should be offended by his original vernacular. “The quote was something like, ‘Stop killing time; it’s already killing you.’ Satisfied?”
Tony tilted his sunglasses down so his single, silver iris locked onto her eyes. Suddenly serious, he nodded, clicking his tongue as the humor left his expression. “Too damn right, Adelaide. Too damn right.” With a heavy sigh, he stood and turned toward the store room. “Need some help in there, Bert?”
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“Hey…” Addie let her words die away when Bert hollered for Tony to come help. As the lanky ex-corpo mystery guy walked to the back of the shop, Addie frowned, wondering what she’d done to upset him. Had she upset him? The truth was she didn’t know him well enough to understand his moods. “Mercurial.”
“What’s that, Addie?”
“I think that’s the word to describe his moods.”
“Ah, yes, I see. Mercurial: someone who is quick, changeable, or unpredictable in nature. Do you think that fits your companion, Anthony?”
As always, JJ’s attempts to be serious brought a smile to Addie’s face, and she leaned back over her tablet. “Play something upbeat, JJ.”
***
Tony slept well that night. He was dog-tired by the time Bert closed up the shop, ready to hit the sack after scarfing a couple of meal bars from a case Bert had given him. They were six months past their stale date, but Bert swore they tasted just like when they were new. Tony was inclined to agree. His “cookie-dough” flavored bar had tasted just like the real deal, as far as he could recall. Of course, he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten real cookie dough, but somewhere in his brain was the memory of the flavor, and the bar had stacked up just fine.
After he brushed his teeth, he put on a pair of clean, lightweight athletic pants in case someone came through the storeroom before he was up and dressed. Then, he climbed under his thin gray blanket and tried to fall asleep. That’s when the frustration set in; if he was so damned tired, why couldn’t he sleep? Instead, his mind kept drifting toward his problems and what he was going to do about them.
Foremost on that list was the fact that he was living in a storeroom in the Blast. Earning a few hundred bits every couple of days wasn’t going to get him out of that situation anytime soon. He had skills; why wasn’t he using them? “Because I’m not a damn fool,” he reminded himself. “One eye? No wirejob? A dodgy right arm? No gear to speak of? What kind of solo work am I gonna pull off?” No, he figured, if he was going to work his way out of this hole, he’d have to do it bit by bit.
He'd keep helping Bert, and if Addie needed a hand with something, he’d do that too. She knew everyone in the damn district, and so did her dad. Those were good connections to have. Hadn’t Bert earned him an easy five hundred already? “Shit,” he sighed, reminding himself that Addie did as much as Bert. He would’ve probably tried to kill that poor woman if she hadn’t stepped in. It didn’t matter; his point still stood—Bert and Addie were good people to know while he was in the Blast.
He glanced at the ancient alarm clock Bert had dug out of a box for him. It had obnoxiously bright blue LED digits. “Are you keeping me awake?” He looked around the room, chuckling to see everything washed in blue light. He bunched up a pair of boxers and threw them at the clock, covering the brilliant 11:47.
In the renewed darkness, he flopped onto his back and closed his eyes. He started to drift off, but then, like an avenging angel, he saw those bright green eyes and smelled strawberries in soft black curls. He heard an excited voice whispering, “We can get out. We can start something new…”
Tony jerked, flinging his blanket off and flopping over to fall onto the hard, cold industrial tiles of the storeroom. He banged his left knee, but his cybernetic arm caught most of his fall. Cursing, heaving for breath, he looked around, dazed momentarily. His brain caught up to the fact that he wasn’t dreaming, and slowly, things came together, and he remembered Bert and his shop. He remembered Addie and their jaunts around the district. With a groan, Tony pushed himself to his knees and crawled over to the box where his alarm clock was buried. Pulling the boxers off it, he stared at the numbers: 4:28.
He didn’t feel like he’d gotten ten minutes of sleep, but there it was, in plain, blazing blue numbers—he’d slept almost five hours. His alarm was set for five, so, with a groan and a few swear words, he pushed himself to his feet and flicked on the light. “Gym time.” He dressed in the tracksuit he’d gotten dirty the day before but packed a plastic bag with a clean change of clothes.
Bert had added Tony’s biometrics to the alley exit, so he slipped out that way, careful not to slam the heavy door. He pressed his left hand to the panel beside the door and selected the LOCK and ARM options, then jogged out of the alley, finding the Blast to be a very different place in the dark hours of the morning.
Not a single car was on the street, and, in the relative quiet, he could hear the buzz of drones and the distant sounds of traffic coming from other parts of the district and the major highways that crisscrossed and wrapped around the city. It was creepy and chilly, and Tony picked up the pace, turning his jog into an easy lope. His long legs ate up the distance, and he turned left, then right, retracing his and Addie’s footsteps from the day before.
He caught glimpses of movement in the dark alleys, and every so often, he’d pass by slumped figures on building stoops, usually covered in blankets or layered in coats with their heads down. One thing was sure: he didn’t see any bangers. It seemed like thugs were much the same no matter what district you were in; they didn’t like being up too early, and though they stayed up late, most of them were sleeping like babies by four in the morning.
That didn’t mean he didn’t get a shiver down his spine more than once when he heard noises coming from dark alleys that didn’t sound exactly…human. “Probably stray dogs,” he grunted, picking up the pace. The gym wasn’t far—probably just a bit more than a mile, and before he knew it, he rounded the corner and came face to face with the bright lights and surprisingly busy warehouse-sized building. With his plastic bag clutched in his hand, he stepped through the doors.
Amy wasn’t working, but a different young woman was, this one shorter, stockier, and with short, very tight black braids covering her head. When Tony stepped forward and tapped his keychain to the reader, it beeped and flashed green, and the girl looked up at him, her eyes glittering with the tell-tale lights of a busy AUI. “New?”
“Yeah, signed up yesterday.”
“I’m Gabby.” She held out a fist, and Tony gave it a bump with his plasteel knuckles.
“Tony.”
“You need me to show you around or anything?”
“I, uh, need a locker.”
“Oh? Who signed you up?” Tony caught a hint of irritation in her voice.
“Amy, but, to be fair, I was in kind of a hurry.”
“Uh-huh. No biggie. Hang on, I’m checking what’s available.” She stared into space for a few seconds, her eyes flickering with light. “H42 is open and ready to be set. Just hold your thumb on the bio-screen for ten seconds, okay?”
Tony smiled and nodded. “Got it.”
“Everything’s open right now. No personal training sessions going on, and the first class isn’t until five.”
Tony gave her a thumbs up and then walked into the gym, pleased to see that everyone looked serious and most had their heads down as they worked out. This wasn’t a social club type of gym. There weren’t any glam-lifters filming for their net vids, and he had a feeling such behavior wouldn’t be welcomed by the regulars. He saw some real monsters in the free-weight section. One guy with two cybernetic legs—industrial, heavy-duty ones with visible pistons nestled among the plasteel plates—was deadlifting something like a thousand kilos.
Once upon a time, Tony might have wondered at the point of all that. Why lift when you have mechanical muscles? He’d had a lot of friends in the business, though, people he teamed up with when he couldn’t do a job solo, and he knew that building up the supporting tendons and muscles for a limb was important.
His arm, for instance, could cause him all kinds of health issues if he didn’t continue to exercise and strengthen his shoulder, back, and chest. If he had a PAI with some decent software, it could manage the arm for him, ensuring he didn’t use too much strength and mess up his fleshy parts, but to get the most out of it, he’d need to build up his peripheral musculature.
He found his locker, stuffed his clothes into it, and then returned to the gym and found a free bench. He’d gotten plenty warmed up running over from Bert’s, so he decided to jump right into the weights. He figured he’d be hitting the gym almost every day, so he decided to focus on specific muscle groups each day. Out of habit, he started with pushing exercises, working out his chest and shoulders. Nobody bothered him, and the most interaction he had was a head nod from a few other lifters.
When he finished with the weights, Tony went over to one of the heavy bags. He was about to get to work on it, bare-knuckled, when he saw a sign that read, “Cover Your Chrome!” Looking around, he didn’t see any tape or anything, so he walked over to the front desk and asked Gabbie, “Hey, uh, you guys rent gloves or anything? I wanna get a workout in on the heavy bag.”
“Sorry, no rentals, but I can sell you a pair for forty bits.”
Tony groaned, feeling his eye replacement slipping further from his grasp, but he fished his bit-locker out of his pocket. After Gabbie took her payment, she reached under the counter and lifted out a box of gloves, finding a pair that matched his size. “At least they look pretty durable.”
“Yeah, Golden is a fighter. He wouldn’t sell crappy fighting gear.” She turned and pointed toward the center fighting ring. “You can find tape on that table.”
“Oh, thanks.” Tony took his new gloves—yellow with a black border—and spent a little time taping up his human hand. He wasn’t planning to go too hard, but he also knew his knuckles were out of shape, and the last thing he needed was a sprained wrist.
Once he’d done that, he put his gloves on and got to work, going to town on one of the bags. He worked through his jabs, then his combinations, then some power shots, body shots, and finally some defensive combinations—punching and then slipping, rolling, and parrying imaginary counters.
By the time he was finished, he was drenched with sweat and feeling a wonderful endorphin glow. When he looked up, he found Golden standing on his right side, in his blind spot, watching him intently. While Tony worked to take off his gloves, the older man stepped over. “Let me help with that.”
Tony handed him his left hand and grunted, “Thanks.” He shook his head, sending a shower of sweat down to the rubber mats. “I’ll mop that up.”
Golden nodded, slipping bandage scissors under the tape on Tony’s knuckles. “Bucket’s by the towels, thanks.” He looked at Tony, peering into his single eye. “You’re gonna need a new bandage on that socket. It’s soaked through.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, it’s due, anyway.”
“You know, I think you could make a nice haul of bits if you participated in the fights here. I know it’s short notice, but there’s a special event tonight during the Boxer Day street fair.”
“Boxer Day?”
“Yeah, you know Boxer Corp runs most of this district, right? They ‘give back to the community’ once a year with a street fair. Free food, free cheap beer, and plenty of propaganda about the company. Well, what goes better on Boxer Day than some boxing?”
“I gotta fight in the aug-50 division?” Tony wiped his sweating brow with his free arm, rubbing his tracksuit sleeve back and forth.
Golden yanked the last of the tape off his wrist and nodded. “That’s right. First prize is fifteen hundred bits, though.”
Tony’s eye opened wide. “Sign me up.”