Chapter Eight

218th Floor

Riley tightened the strap of her bag over her shoulder, the worn canvas comforting. She was glad Ward’s team had managed to recover it from the Steel Sharks den. The clinic's lobby was quiet, bathed in the soft, sterile glow of recessed lights. The faint hum of machinery in the background had been a near-constant during her stay, almost enough to feel familiar. But now, as she stood on the threshold of the sliding glass doors, it all felt distant. Behind her was safety and recovery. Ahead, the chaos of Helix City waited.

Her fingers tugged at the hem of the olive-green hoodie ZigZag had brought her. It was a little big, the sleeves hanging past her wrists, but it felt comfortable—a buffer against the world outside. Paired with dark cargo pants and her cleaned, though still scuffed, boots, it was the first time she'd felt dressed like herself since... everything. ZigZag's parting words echoed in her mind: "Figured you wouldn't wanna walk out of here in a hospital gown. Besides, green suits you."

Her goggles sat firmly on her forehead, their familiar weight comforting even if their interface felt limited here. The environmental readouts that had served her so well in the Driftlands struggled to parse the city's overwhelming data streams. She could still get basic readings, but much of the city's sophisticated tech architecture remained frustratingly opaque. Her father's voice whispered warnings in her memory: "The more you rely on tech, the less you trust your own senses."

Riley glanced over her shoulder one last time. Dr. Kline stood at the reception desk, offering a warm, encouraging smile. Behind her, ZigZag leaned casually against the wall, giving Riley a cheerful wave. "You'll do fine out there," ZigZag had said earlier, her optimism almost infectious. Almost.

And then there was Sable.

The woman stood near the door, her cybernetic arm catching the clinic's sterile light. She wasn't smiling—she rarely did—but there was something steady in her presence, like an anchor in a storm. The magenta of her partially-shaved hair seemed stark against her pale skin, the scars on her face more pronounced in the harsh lighting. "Let's move, kid," she said, her voice low and firm. "Standing around doesn't get you anywhere."

Riley nodded and followed Sable out into the city. The transition was jarring—from the sterile quiet of the clinic to the overwhelming assault of Helix City's streets. The air hit her like a physical force, thick with the scent of ozone, exhaust, and too many bodies packed into too small a space. Neon signs buzzed and flickered overhead, their garish colors reflecting off puddles of questionable liquid on the cracked pavement. The sounds were relentless: mag-lev trains rumbling in the distance, street vendors shouting their wares in a dozen languages, and the constant, overlapping chatter of the crowd.

A group of teens with glowing circuit patterns traced across their skin pushed past, laughing as they shared some private joke through their neural links. Riley instinctively reached for her goggles, though they felt insufficient now. The city pulsed around her, a living entity of steel and neon that seemed to mock her unaugmented state.

"Stay close," Sable said, her cybernetic fingers flexing slightly as she scanned the crowd. "City's different at street level. More desperate."

Riley quickened her pace to keep up with Sable's longer strides. "Different how?"

"You'll see." Sable's tone was clipped, but not unkind. "First rule: don't make eye contact with the street hawkers. Second rule: keep your bag close. Lots of quick hands out here."

As if on cue, a vendor materialized from the crowd, his augmented eyes glowing a fierce red as he thrust a tray of tech toward them. "Fresh imports! Premium grade cybernetics at street prices! How about it, ladies? That arm could use an upgrade." He gestured toward Riley with a grin that showed too many metal teeth.

Sable's chrome arm shot out, catching the vendor's tray before it could get closer to Riley. "Back off," she growled, her voice carrying an edge that made the vendor's grin falter.

"Just trying to make a living," he muttered, melting back into the crowd.

Riley's heart hammered against her ribs, the encounter sending unwanted memories flooding back—Flint's easy smile, the way he'd offered help that turned to betrayal. Her fingers curled into fists inside the hoodie's oversized sleeves.

Sable noticed. Of course she noticed. "Breathe, kid," she said, her tone softer now. "Not everyone's out to get you. But enough are that you need to stay sharp."

They wound their way through the crowded streets, past food stalls selling synthetic meat skewers and vat-grown vegetables. The smell of grease and artificial flavoring made Riley's stomach turn, too reminiscent of the cheap noodles she'd shared with Flint before everything went wrong. She focused instead on keeping pace with Sable, on memorizing the twists and turns of their route.

The crowd thinned as they approached a massive residential complex—a behemoth of steel and concrete that stretched up into the smog-filled sky. Its lower levels were covered in a patchwork of graffiti and makeshift additions, but higher up, the windows gleamed with the reflected light of neighboring buildings.

"Home sweet home," Sable muttered, leading Riley toward the entrance. "Hope you're not afraid of heights."

The elevator's soft hum did little to calm Riley's nerves as they ascended. Through the plastiglass walls, the city spread out below them, a dizzying maze of neon and shadow. Each floor they passed made her stomach twist tighter, the height bringing back memories of climbing scrap mountains in the Driftlands. But there, the danger had been tangible—rusted metal and unstable footing. Here, suspended in a glass box hundreds of stories up, the threat felt abstract, almost surreal.

"Two-eighteen," Sable said, breaking the silence. "Gets easier. After a while, you forget you're floating in a metal box half a mile up."

Riley swallowed hard. "That's... not helping."

A ghost of a smile crossed Sable's face, gone so quickly Riley might have imagined it. The elevator chimed softly as they reached their floor, the doors sliding open to reveal a long hallway lined with identical doors. The walls showed signs of wear—paint peeling in corners, scuff marks telling stories of countless moves and minor altercations. But it was cleaner than Riley had expected, the air carrying a faint scent of industrial cleaner rather than the decay she'd grown used to.

Sable led them to a door marked E13, her movements precise as she pressed her palm against the biometric scanner. "Home sweet concrete box in the sky," she muttered as the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Riley hesitated at the threshold, her eyes scanning the apartment beyond. After Flint's betrayal, every doorway felt like a potential trap. But this space was nothing like his cramped, chaotic hideout. The apartment was open and surprisingly clean, with warm lighting that gave it an almost welcoming feel. The floors were a smooth, honeycomb-patterned tile, and the walls were a mix of soft gray and white. A large window dominated one side of the room, offering a stunning view of the city's neon-drenched skyline.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sable said, shrugging off her jacket to reveal a sleeveless top that left her chrome arm fully exposed. "You'll be staying here for a while."

Riley's eyes continued their inventory of the space, taking in the minimalist furniture, the sleek holo-terminal mounted on the wall, and the small but efficient kitchen tucked into one corner. It wasn't extravagant, but it was more than she'd ever had. Her gaze caught on a sleek black door set into one corner, its surface unmarked except for a biometric scanner similar to the one at the entrance.

Sable noticed her looking. "Off limits," she said simply, her tone brooking no argument. She walked over to a panel on the wall and pressed a button, revealing a small alcove near the window. Inside was a neatly made bed, the space enclosed on three sides with a sliding door for privacy. "Guest bed's yours. Locks from the inside if that makes you feel better."

Riley stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the alcove. It was small, but it felt safe—like a cocoon she could retreat into. The thought of having a space that locked, that she could control, made her throat tight. "Thank you," she managed.

Sable waved off the gratitude. "Hungry? I'm not a gourmet chef, but I can whip up something edible."

The offer caught Riley off guard. In her experience, people who offered food usually wanted something in return. But before she could respond, her stomach growled loudly, answering for her. A flush crept up her neck as Sable's lips twitched in what might have been amusement.

"I'll take that as a yes." Sable moved to the kitchen, her movements efficient as she pulled ingredients from storage units. "Make yourself comfortable. This'll take a few minutes."

Riley set her bag down carefully near the alcove, keeping it within arm's reach. She perched on the edge of a chair, watching as Sable worked. The woman moved with surprising grace in the small kitchen space, her cybernetic arm as precise with cooking tools as Riley imagined it was with weapons.

The soft sizzle of food hitting a hot pan filled the air, followed by the sharp scent of garlic and spices. It was real food—not the synthetic proteins and instant meals Riley had subsisted on in the Driftlands. Her mouth watered despite her lingering wariness.

"You actually cook?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Sable snorted, not turning from the stove. "What, figured I lived on protein bars and instant noodles?"

"I mean..." Riley picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Kind of?"

"Full of surprises," Sable said, a hint of dry humor in her voice. She worked in silence for a few minutes, the rhythmic sound of chopping and stirring almost hypnotic. Finally, she brought two plates to the small table, setting one in front of Riley. The food looked simple but real—stir-fried vegetables with what looked like actual meat, not the vat-grown substitute Riley was used to.

"Eat," Sable said, settling into her own chair. "You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over."

Riley picked up her fork carefully, taking a small bite. The flavors exploded across her tongue—salty, savory, with a hint of heat that made her eyes water. It was better than anything she'd eaten in recent memory, and she had to force herself not to shovel it down too quickly.

They ate in companionable silence, the only sound the quiet clink of utensils against plates. Through the window, the city's lights seemed to pulse with a life of their own, creating patterns that reminded Riley of circuit boards. It was beautiful, in its way—but also alien, overwhelming. Up here, surrounded by technology she barely understood, she felt more acutely aware of her own limitations.

Her hand drifted to her bag, where the N-77 Neurolink waited. Just knowing it was there made her skin prickle with possibility and uncertainty. How many of the people in this building were augmented? How many had chosen to blur the line between human and machine? Her father's warnings about cybernetics seemed distant up here, where technology wasn't just a tool but a way of life.

"Whatever you're thinking about," Sable's voice cut through her thoughts, "it can wait until you've finished eating."

Riley blinked, realizing she'd been staring at her half-empty plate. "Sorry. It's just... a lot."

Sable's expression softened fractionally. "Yeah. It is." She stood, taking her empty plate to the sink. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be interesting."

The word 'interesting' hung in the air like a promise—or a warning. Riley finished her food in silence, her mind spinning with questions she wasn't sure how to ask. When she finally retreated to the alcove, sliding the door shut and engaging the lock, she felt both safer and more uncertain than ever.

She sat on the bed, pulling out Chirp's broken shell and the N-77. The drone's dark lens stared back at her, a reminder of everything she'd lost. But the Neurolink gleamed with possibility, its surface catching the city lights filtering through the window. Two pieces of technology—one representing her past, one possibly her future.

Riley set them both carefully on the small shelf beside the bed, then curled up under the blanket. The sounds of the city filtered through the walls, a constant reminder that she wasn't in the Driftlands anymore. Everything was different here—the air, the food, the very rhythm of existence. She wasn't sure if she could adapt, if she could become what this place demanded.

But as she drifted toward sleep, one thought settled in her mind: she had to try. Because going back wasn't an option, and standing still meant death. In Helix City, you either evolved or you disappeared.

The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the mysterious black door in the corner of the apartment, its surface reflecting the city's neon glow like a mirror into another world. Whatever secrets Sable kept behind it would have to wait. For now, Riley had enough mysteries of her own to solve.

Sleep came in fits and starts, interrupted by the unfamiliar sounds of the high-rise. Every distant slam of a door, every whir of the building's ventilation system jolted her awake. The bed was too soft, too clean—nothing like the worn mattress she'd gotten used to in the gas station. When she did manage to drift off, her dreams were filled with metal tables and Flint's mocking smile.

She woke with a start, her heart hammering against her ribs. The alcove was dark except for the city's perpetual glow filtering through the window. For a moment, panic clawed at her throat—where was she? Then reality settled back in: Sable's apartment. The 218th floor. Safety, at least for now.

Riley sat up, pushing sweat-dampened hair from her face. The building's environmental controls kept the temperature perfect, but she felt cold anyway. Her hands shook as she reached for Chirp's shell, seeking comfort in its familiar weight.

A soft clatter from the kitchen made her freeze. Through the alcove's partially open door, she could see Sable moving around, her chrome arm catching the dim light. The woman wore loose pants and a tank top, her magenta hair messy from sleep. She seemed different somehow—less guarded, more human.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Riley watched as Sable filled a kettle with water, her movements precise despite the early hour. The chronometer on the wall displayed 04:23 in soft blue digits. Couldn't sleep either, apparently.

After a moment's hesitation, Riley slipped out of bed. The honeycomb tiles were cool against her bare feet as she padded toward the kitchen, Chirp's shell still cradled in her hands.

Sable didn't turn around. "Nightmares?"

Riley started slightly. "How did you—"

"Lucky guess." Sable's voice was rougher than usual, touched by her own lack of sleep. She reached into a cabinet, pulling out two ceramic mugs. "Want some tea? Real stuff, not synthetic."

The offer surprised Riley. Real tea was expensive, a luxury most people couldn't afford. She nodded slowly, settling onto one of the kitchen stools. "Thanks."

They sat in comfortable silence while the water heated. Riley found herself studying Sable's cybernetic arm, noting the way the joints moved with subtle precision. It was beautiful, in its way—a marriage of form and function that made her think about her own potential future with augmentations.

"Ask." Sable's voice was quiet but firm.

Riley blinked. "What?"

"You're staring at my arm. You've got questions. Ask them."

Heat crept up Riley's neck, but something in Sable's tone gave her courage. "Does it... how does it feel? Having part of you be machine?"

Sable was quiet for a long moment, her organic hand wrapping around her mug of tea. Finally, she spoke: "Different. Not better or worse, just different. Takes time to accept it as part of you." She flexed her metal fingers. "Some days I forget it's not my original arm. Other days, it's all I can think about."

"My father..." Riley started, then stopped, uncertain.

"The one who taught you cybernetics were evil?"

Riley's head snapped up. "How did you—"

"You tense every time someone mentions augmentation. Plus, you're one of the few people I've met who's completely organic. Doesn't take a genius to figure out there's a story there."

The kettle chimed softly, and Sable poured hot water over tea leaves in both mugs. The rich, earthy scent filled the air—so different from the artificial flavors Riley was used to. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, letting the heat seep into her bones.

"He wasn't wrong about everything," Sable continued, her voice thoughtful. "Augmentation can be dangerous. Corps use it to control people, to make them dependent. But it's like any tool—the danger isn't in the technology itself. It's in how people use it."

Riley stared into her tea, watching the leaves swirl. "I used to think he was just being paranoid. But after Flint, after what happened..." She swallowed hard. "Maybe he had a point about trust. About how easy it is to lose control."

"Trust isn't about whether someone has metal in their body or not." Sable's voice hardened slightly. "It's about their actions. Their choices." She paused, then added more softly, "But yeah, it's not easy. Especially after what you've been through."

They drank their tea in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. The city never truly slept—even at this hour, lights flickered and changed in the buildings around them, and the distant hum of machinery was constant. But up here, in this quiet moment, it felt almost peaceful.

"Try to get some more sleep," Sable said eventually, taking their empty mugs to the sink. "Tomorrow, we need to work on getting you set up with some basics. Can't have you wandering the city looking like fresh meat."

Riley nodded, standing to head back to the alcove. She paused at the doorway. "Sable?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks. For the tea. And... everything else."

Sable's expression remained neutral, but something in her eyes softened. "Get some sleep, kid."

Back in bed, Riley held Chirp's shell close to her chest. The drone's weight was comforting, a piece of her old life to anchor her in this new one. But her other hand drifted to the N-77, its smooth surface cool against her fingers. The conversation with Sable had given her a lot to think about.

Maybe her father had been right about some things. But maybe he'd also been wrong about others. Maybe the key wasn't avoiding technology altogether, but learning to use it without letting it use you.

As she drifted back to sleep, the city's lights painted patterns on the ceiling. The mysterious black door still lurked in the corner, its secrets waiting to be discovered. But for now, Riley had other mysteries to solve—starting with who she wanted to become in this city of neon and steel.

The answer, she was beginning to realize, might involve more chrome than her father would have approved of. But then again, survival rarely cared about approval.

Morning came too soon, announced by the gradual brightening of the window's tint and the increasing bustle of activity from the floors above and below. Riley lay in bed for a moment, listening to the building's heartbeat—the hum of elevator cars, the distant thrum of environmental systems, the muffled voices of neighbors starting their days.

The sound of Sable moving around the apartment eventually drew Riley from her alcove. She found the mercenary in the kitchen again, this time fully dressed in dark cargo pants and a fitted black top that left her cybernetic arm exposed. A holoscreen flickered in front of her, displaying what looked like a news feed, though she dismissed it with a wave of her hand as Riley approached.

"Thought you'd sleep longer," Sable said, not looking up from the coffee maker she was fiddling with. The machine was clearly expensive, its chrome surface gleaming under the apartment's lights. "Figured the tea would knock you out."

"Too much to think about," Riley admitted, hovering uncertainly near the kitchen counter. In the morning light, the apartment felt different—more real somehow, less like a dream or temporary sanctuary.

Sable grunted in acknowledgment, finally getting the coffee maker to cooperate with a soft whir. "Here's the plan," she said, turning to face Riley. "You need clothes that don't scream 'Driftland refugee.' And we need to get you set up with some basic city tech. The kind that'll keep you from getting lost or scammed."

Riley's hand instinctively went to her bag, where her old goggles rested. "I have tech."

"You have salvage," Sable corrected, though her tone wasn't unkind. "City's different. You need different tools." She paused, studying Riley's face. "But first, breakfast. Can't shop on an empty stomach."

The meal was simple but filling—real eggs (a luxury that made Riley's eyes widen) with synthetic bacon and something Sable called "coffee substitute" that tasted better than it smelled. As they ate, Sable pulled up another holoscreen, this one displaying a map of the local district.

"We're here," she said, pointing to a glowing dot. "Shopping district's here." Another dot appeared, connected to the first by a series of highlighted paths. "Usually I'd take the direct route, but given your... recent experiences, we'll stick to the more populated areas. Harder for trouble to find you in a crowd."

Riley nodded, trying to memorize the route even as her stomach twisted at the thought of being surrounded by strangers again. "What about—" She hesitated, then forged ahead. "What about your work? Won't I get in the way?"

Sable's expression hardened slightly. "My work can wait. Ward's handling things for now." She dismissed the map with another wave. "Besides, can't have you walking around looking like a target. Bad for business."

After breakfast, Riley watched Sable perform what was clearly a daily ritual—checking her cybernetic arm's calibration, ensuring her concealed weapons were properly secured, running a quick diagnostic on her ocular implant. Every movement was precise, practiced. Finally, she shrugged on her jacket and nodded toward the door. "Ready?"

Riley adjusted her goggles and pulled ZigZag's borrowed hoodie tighter around herself. "I guess."

The building's elevator was mercifully empty as they descended. Riley found herself counting the floors, watching the numbers tick down on the display. Each floor meant closer to street level, closer to the chaos she'd glimpsed yesterday. Her fingers drummed nervously against her thigh.

"Stop fidgeting," Sable said, though her tone wasn't unkind. "You look nervous when you do that. Nervous looks like prey."

Riley forced her hands still. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be aware." Sable's chrome fingers flexed slightly. "City's got its own rhythm. You'll learn it. Until then, stay close and try to look like you know where you're going."

The lobby was busier than it had been the night before, filled with residents heading out to jobs or returning from night shifts. Riley noticed how people gave Sable a wide berth, their eyes sliding away from her cybernetic arm and the subtle bulge of her concealed weapon. She tried to mirror Sable's confident stride as they made their way through the crowd.

Outside, the morning air was thick with the smell of exhaust and street food. Vendors were setting up their stalls, the early ones already cooking synthetic meat that sizzled and popped. Maintenance drones buzzed overhead, checking facade repairs and environmental controls. Everything seemed to move with purpose, even the trash skittering across the cracked pavement.

They took a mag-lev train two blocks over, the swift acceleration making Riley's stomach lurch. She gripped the handrail tightly, watching the city blur past. When they stepped off, they were in a different world entirely.

The shopping district was a sensory assault that made the streets around the clinic seem tame by comparison. Massive holographic advertisements floated above the walkways, their images shifting and morphing in a constant dance of light and color. Street-level shops competed for attention with neon signs and interactive displays, while elevated walkways carried streams of people between the larger commercial complexes.

Riley stuck close to Sable, her borrowed hoodie pulled tight around her despite the comfortable temperature maintained by the district's environmental systems. Everything was overwhelming—the crowds, the noise, the sheer variety of goods on display. A shop window filled with gleaming cybernetic limbs caught her attention, their chrome surfaces decorated with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the light.

"Not yet," Sable said quietly, noticing her stare. "Basics first."

They started with clothes—practical items that wouldn't draw attention but would help Riley blend in with the city's population. Sable seemed to know exactly which shops to visit, steering clear of the high-end boutiques in favor of smaller establishments tucked away from the main thoroughfares.

"Here," Sable said, holding out a dark jacket with subtle armor panels built into the fabric. "This'll stop a knife, maybe slow down a small-caliber round. Plus it's got tech-shielding in the lining—makes it harder for scanners to get a read on what you're carrying."

Riley ran her fingers over the material, surprised by its softness despite the protective features. "How much—"

"Don't worry about it." Sable's tone brooked no argument. "Consider it an investment in keeping you alive."

They added more items to the growing collection: pants with hidden compartments, boots with grip-enhanced soles, and a few basic tops that wouldn't look out of place in any of the city's middle districts. Everything was chosen for function first, but Riley had to admit that Sable had a good eye for style that didn't sacrifice practicality.

The tech shop was their final stop—a narrow storefront wedged between a noodle bar and a body mod clinic. The interior was cramped but clean, the walls lined with display cases containing everything from communication devices to security systems. The owner, a woman with silver circuits tracing delicate patterns across her dark skin, greeted Sable with a familiar nod.

"Been a while," she said, her augmented eyes scanning Riley with obvious curiosity. "This the one you messaged about?"

"Yeah." Sable leaned against the counter. "Need the basics. Quality stuff, Nova. Nothing that'll fry if she looks at it wrong."

Nova's laugh was warm and genuine. "Please. When do I ever sell junk?" She turned to study Riley more closely. "Completely organic, huh? That's rare these days." There was no judgment in her voice, just observation. "Makes the setup trickier, but we'll figure it out."

The next hour was a crash course in city technology. Nova explained each device as she assembled a collection: a new comm unit with built-in neural interface capability. "For when you decide to get chipped" Nova winked

A software upgrade to her goggles that let them connect with the city’s hardwarp network, and a security bracelet that could act as both ID and emergency beacon.

"Best part is, it all works together," Nova explained, demonstrating how the devices could sync. "But it'll work with your current setup too, if you're not ready for the full upgrade."

Riley glanced at Sable, who had been quietly watching the whole process. The mercenary's expression gave nothing away, but there was something approving in her stance as Nova walked Riley through the basics of each device.

When they finally left the shop, Riley's head was spinning with information, but she felt... different. More prepared, maybe. The new clothes and tech didn't erase what had happened to her, didn't cure the way her heart still raced when strangers got too close. But they were armor of a sort—tools to help her navigate this new world.

"One more stop," Sable said as they turned down a quieter street. "Food. Real food, not the synthetic stuff from the vendors." She paused, then added with the ghost of a smile, "Unless you want to live on protein bars and instant noodles?"

Riley found herself smiling back, just slightly. "Your cooking's not bad."

"High praise." Sable's tone was dry, but there was warmth beneath it. "Come on. There's a market up ahead that won't completely drain what's left of my credits."

As they walked, Riley found herself studying Sable's profile. The woman was still a mystery in many ways—the locked room in her apartment, the careful way she moved through crowds, the slight tension in her shoulders that never fully eased. But she was also steady, reliable in a way Riley hadn't experienced since her father's death.

It should have scared her, this growing trust. After Flint, after everything, trust should have been impossible. But maybe, Riley thought as they entered the market's climate-controlled interior, trust wasn't about being certain. Maybe it was about choosing to believe, despite the risks.

She adjusted the fit of her new jacket, feeling the subtle weight of the protective panels. One step at a time. That's what Sable had said about cybernetics, about adaptation. Maybe it applied to everything else too.

The market's atmosphere wrapped around them, full of unfamiliar scents and sounds. Riley straightened her shoulders, ready to learn another piece of this new life. Ready to take another step forward.

By the time they returned to the apartment, the sun was setting, painting Helix City's skyline in shades of purple and orange that fought against the ever-present neon glow. Riley's arms ached from carrying bags of fresh produce and basic supplies, but it was a good kind of ache—the kind that meant progress, movement, life.

The apartment felt different now, less alien. Maybe it was the way her new clothes hung in the alcove's small closet, or how her upgraded tech sat charging on the bedside shelf, but the space felt more like somewhere she could belong. Not home, not yet, but something close to it.

Sable moved around the kitchen, putting away their purchases with mechanical efficiency. "You should test out the new gear," she said, not looking up from her task. "Get used to the interface before you need it."

Riley nodded, adjusting her goggles and activating Nova's new AR interface. The upgrade integrated seamlessly with her familiar tech, and suddenly the world transformed. Enhanced data overlays flickered to life, marking exits, mapping the apartment's layout, even displaying Sable's public profile in a subtle heads-up display. Her goggles' usual environmental readings were still there, but now they were augmented with layers of sophisticated city data she'd never had access to before.

"Different, isn't it?" Sable asked, catching Riley's wide-eyed expression. "City tech's not better or worse than what you had. Just different."

"It's so..." Riley struggled to find the words as she turned slowly, watching the data streams adjust to her movement. "Clean. Organized."

"Structured," Sable agreed. "Like the city itself. Everything in its place, everything connected." She paused, then added, "Everything controlled."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Riley thought about the N-77 still waiting in her bag, about the way the city's technology seemed to form a web that connected everyone, everything. Her father's warnings about control and dependence didn't seem so paranoid anymore, but neither did they feel like absolute truth.

"I've been thinking," Riley said slowly, her fingers brushing against the frame of her goggles. "About what you said. About tools and how we use them."

Sable set down the last of the groceries, giving Riley her full attention. "And?"

"Maybe... maybe it's not about avoiding the system entirely. Maybe it's about understanding it enough to use it without letting it use you."

A ghost of a smile crossed Sable's face. "Now you're getting it." She rolled her cybernetic shoulder in what might have been an unconscious gesture. "City'll try to swallow you whole if you let it. Key is to take what you need without losing who you are."

Riley nodded, thinking about everything the day had brought—the new clothes that would help her blend in, the tech that would let her navigate, the food that would keep her strong. All tools, all pieces of armor against a world that had already tried to break her once.

The mysterious black door caught her attention again, its surface reflecting the sunset's colors. Whatever lay behind it was part of who Sable was, part of her story. Maybe someday Riley would learn that story. For now, though, she had her own path to forge.

"Get some rest," Sable said, heading toward her room. "Tomorrow we start on the hard stuff."

"Harder than today?"

"Today was shopping." Sable's tone carried a hint of amusement. "Tomorrow we see if you can use any of it."

Riley watched her go, then turned back to the window. The city spread out below, a maze of light and shadow that seemed both beautiful and dangerous. Through her new augmented display, data streams outlined buildings, marked safe routes, highlighted points of interest. It was dizzying, overwhelming, but also exciting in a way she hadn't expected.

In her alcove, she pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, their familiar weight now carrying new potential thanks to Nova's upgrades. She set Chirp's shell and the N-77 beside them on the shelf. Past, present, and possible future, all lined up in a row. Her father had always said choices made you who you were. He'd chosen isolation, chosen to reject the city's influence entirely. Riley wasn't sure that was the right choice anymore—wasn't sure it had ever been.

As she prepared for sleep, she thought about Sable's words: take what you need without losing who you are. Maybe that was the real challenge of Helix City. Not just surviving, but choosing how to survive. Choosing which pieces of yourself to keep, which to modify, which to reinvent entirely.

The city's rhythm had changed since morning, shifting into its night cycle. Different lights flickered on, different shadows deepened. But up here, in this small space she was starting to think of as safe, Riley felt steady for the first time since everything had fallen apart.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new choices, new adaptations. But for now, she had this: a secure door, a soft bed, and the beginning of understanding what it meant to live in this city of chrome and light.

She fell asleep to the distant hum of the building's systems, no longer quite so alien, no longer quite so alone.