Chapter Ten

One Step

The last two weeks had settled into a routine that left Riley both content and restless. Each morning, she walked the quiet streets from the mag-lev station to Brendon's trailer, her mind swirling with thoughts of tools, schematics, and the repairs she'd be tackling. The work was steady -- old machines given new life under her hands -- but it was also predictable, leaving her feeling like a bird stuck in a cage that was just a little too small. The credits she earned barely covered basic expenses, and the gnawing desire for something more grew stronger with each passing day.

Brendon's workshop had become a second home of sorts, its walls lined with neatly labeled bins of components that would have been worth their weight in gold back in the Driftlands. The smell of solder and machine oil hung perpetually in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of cleaning solutions and the faint ozone scent of active electronics. It was a far cry from the makeshift workbench she'd cobbled together in the old gas station, where every tool had been salvaged and every repair had been a desperate improvisation.

Today's project sat on the workbench like a monument to obsolescence -- a food processor that looked like it had survived a war zone. Its dented casing bore the scars of countless impacts, and the power cable had been spliced so many times it resembled a mechanical snake shedding its skin. Riley turned it over in her hands, her lips twitching into a wry smile as she examined the dated manufacturer's mark stamped into its base.

"This thing's a relic," she said, flipping the processor over to examine the frayed wiring beneath. "You keeping it around for sentimental reasons?"

Brendon sat nearby, his round frame settled comfortably in a chair that creaked under his weight. A datapad balanced precariously on his knee, its screen flickering with diagnostic readouts. His perpetual five o'clock shadow caught the workshop's overhead lights, and his glasses reflected the soft glow of the pad's display. He let out a hearty chuckle that seemed to come from deep in his belly.

"Nah, just haven't gotten around to replacing it. Figured you could take a crack at it before I toss it." He leaned back, the chair protesting with another creak. "Who knows? Maybe you'll work your magic and turn it into something useful."

Riley shook her head but couldn't stop her grin. The tools laid out before her were pristine, their handles smooth and perfectly balanced. Tools she could do anything with. She adjusted her goggles and got to work, the familiar weight of them settling against her face as she carefully began cutting away the processor's frayed wiring.

Each snip of her precision pliers sent a satisfying click echoing through the quiet workshop. Chirp hovered nearby, his newly repaired shell gleaming under the lights as he emitted a series of cheerful beeps. The drone's presence was both comforting and distracting, his restored mobility a constant reminder of how far they'd both come.

"Chirp, you're gonna make me mess up," Riley said, shooing him away with a playful wave. "Go bother Brendon for a while."

The little drone buzzed indignantly but obeyed, zipping over to inspect Brendon's datapad with exaggerated curiosity. Brendon swatted at him half-heartedly, his laugh filling the workshop as Chirp dodged with an elaborate spin that showed off his restored agility.

"I think he likes you better than me," Brendon said, his mock-wounded tone betrayed by the warmth in his eyes. "You're gonna spoil him."

"Good. He deserves it after everything he's been through," Riley replied, her focus narrowing as she soldered a new connection onto the processor's circuit board. The faint whiff of heated metal stung her nose, but she barely noticed. Her hands moved with methodical precision, muscle memory taking over as she repaired the motor assembly.

The work was simple enough, but Riley found her mind wandering as she manipulated the delicate components. Every repair job here felt like practice for something bigger -- a holding pattern while she figured out her next move. The cred sticks Brendon paid her with were enough to keep her fed and contribute something to Sable for the room, but they weren't enough to build a real future on.

An hour later, she stepped back and powered on the processor. It hummed to life, its blades spinning smoothly inside the cracked casing. The sound was clean, efficient -- a far cry from the grinding noise it had made when she'd started.

"Not bad for a relic," she said, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk.

Brendon ambled over to inspect her work, nodding with approval as he tested the processor's different settings. "Well, I'll be damned. You really can fix anything." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cred stick, holding it out to her. "Here. And don't argue -- it's worth every credit."

Riley hesitated before taking it, the weight of it pressing into her palm like a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. "Thanks," she said, her voice quieter now. She pocketed the stick and glanced at Chirp, who hovered nearby with a curious tilt of his frame. The little drone beeped expectantly, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, you're next," she said, motioning for Chirp to follow her back to the workbench. "Let's see about upgrading those stabilizers."

The next hour passed in a blur of concentration as Riley fine-tuned Chirp's systems. His shell, once cracked and battered, now gleamed under the workshop's lights as she replaced damaged servos and recalibrated his sensor array. When she powered him up after the adjustments, his frame lit up with soft blue light, and he let out an enthusiastic trill that echoed off the workshop's walls.

"There you are," Riley said, a genuine smile spreading across her face as Chirp performed a series of tight spins and loops, showing off his improved mobility. He zipped over to Brendon, who held up his hands in mock surrender as the drone circled his head.

"Alright, alright, I get it -- you're happy to be back at full capacity," Brendon said with a laugh, watching as Chirp continued his acrobatic display.

Riley observed the drone's movements with a critical eye, noting the smoothness of his turns and the precision of his hover. The repairs were good -- better than good -- but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she could do more. With a Neurolink, she could enhance his functionality, implement more sophisticated control systems, push his design beyond the limitations of manual input. The thought sent a familiar ache through her chest, a mixture of desire and uncertainty that had been growing stronger each day.

Brendon seemed to notice her shift in mood. "You've been a big help around here, you know," he said, his tone softer now. "If you ever need more work, my door's always open."

Riley nodded, her gaze fixed on Chirp as he continued his celebration. "Thanks," she said, though her thoughts were already elsewhere. She appreciated Brendon's kindness, but it wasn't enough anymore. Fixing food processors and maintaining drones was a start, but it wasn't the life she wanted -- not when she could see so clearly what she could become with the right tools, the right augmentations, the right opportunities.

The cred stick felt heavy in her pocket as she gathered her things to leave. The sun was already starting to set, painting the workshop's windows in shades of orange and purple. The city loomed beyond the glass, its distant towers catching the fading light like beacons calling her toward something more.

"See you tomorrow," Brendon called after her as she stepped through the door.

Riley paused in the threshold, the weight of decision settling over her shoulders. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow. But maybe it was time to make today count for something more.

The sun had dipped below the skyline by the time she returned to Sable's apartment, the city's endless maze of lights stretching across the night sky like a web of artificial stars. The familiar hum of the building's environmental systems greeted her as she stepped inside, along with the sharp sizzle of food cooking on the stove.

Sable stood at the kitchen counter, her cybernetic arm gleaming as she stirred a pan of what smelled like real vegetables -- not the vat-grown kind that dominated most street vendors' stalls. The chrome fingers of her prosthetic moved with precise grace, each motion perfectly controlled as she added seasoning to the mix. Chirp hovered nearby, his sensors clearly intrigued by the cooking aromas.

"Don't even think about it," Sable said without turning her head, flicking the spatula in the drone's direction. Chirp retreated with a disappointed beep, settling instead above the counter at a safer distance.

Riley dropped her bag near her alcove and slumped into a chair at the small kitchen table. Her fingers brushed against the cred stick in her pocket, but she didn't take it out. The weight of it -- what it represented -- had been gnawing at her the entire way home.

Sable glanced over her shoulder, her sharp features softened slightly by the apartment's warm lighting. "You look like someone ran over your dog," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Long day?"

"Something like that," Riley muttered, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. She stared at the smooth surface, watching the city lights play across its polished finish. The day's work, Chirp's repairs, the cred stick -- all of it felt like a series of small victories overshadowed by a growing frustration she couldn't ignore anymore.

Sable turned off the burner and divided the food onto two plates with practiced efficiency. Steam rose from the perfectly cooked vegetables and synthetic protein, carrying the rich aroma of actual spices -- another luxury that still surprised Riley. Sable set a plate in front of her before taking the seat opposite, her cybernetic arm catching the overhead lights as she moved.

"Alright, spill," she said, stabbing a piece of food with her fork. "What's eating at you?"

"It's nothing," Riley began, then hesitated. She pushed the food around her plate, organizing it into neat piles as she gathered her thoughts. "I just... I don't want to keep doing odd jobs forever. Fixing blenders and processors is fine, but it's not going to get me anywhere. It's... small."

Sable leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she studied Riley's face. "And what do you want?"

Riley froze at the question. She hadn't allowed herself to really articulate it yet, even in her own mind. "I want... more," she said finally, the words spilling out like water through a broken dam. "I want to be able to do something that matters. I'm tired of just surviving. I want to live."

The bluntness of her own admission startled her, and she glanced at Sable, half-expecting mockery or dismissal. Instead, she found herself under the weight of Sable's calculating gaze, those dark eyes seeming to see right through her.

"And?" Sable prompted, raising an eyebrow. "What's stopping you?"

Riley opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. She frowned, searching for an excuse, a reason -- anything to justify the inertia that had been holding her back. "I don't know," she said quietly. "Nothing, I guess. Just... me."

Sable's lips curved into a knowing smirk, a hint of approval flickering in her eyes. "Glad you figured that out. Because here's the truth, kid -- you're the only one who's going to get you where you want to be. Nobody's handing out tickets to the big leagues."

Riley looked down at her plate, her appetite forgotten as Sable's words sank in. "I know that," she muttered. "I just... I don't know where to start."

"Then pick something and start there," Sable said bluntly, setting her fork down with a soft clink. "Doesn't have to be perfect. Doesn't have to be pretty. Just has to be movement."

Riley let the words settle in her mind, feeling their weight. Sable wasn't coddling her, and she wasn't going to. That wasn't who Sable was. But she wasn't being cruel, either. It was a challenge, a push in the right direction that Riley hadn't realized she needed.

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She took a deep breath and sat up straighter, decision crystallizing in her mind. "I need to talk to Dr. Kline," she said, the words feeling more real now that she'd spoken them aloud. "About getting chipped."

Sable nodded, her expression softening into something almost like pride. "Good. That's a step. Don't overthink it -- just go and find out what it'll take."

Riley felt a flicker of relief course through her. Saying it out loud made it feel real, like she was finally moving forward instead of just treading water. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"Don't thank me," Sable replied, waving her fork dismissively. "Just keep moving forward." She paused, then added with a hint of her usual snark, "And eat your damn dinner before it gets cold."

***

The clinic felt different. The usual quiet hum of medical equipment was still present, but it was overlaid with the distant chatter of patients and the soft footsteps of staff moving briskly through the halls. The air carried the faint, sterile tang of disinfectant -- a smell that once would have sent Riley running, but now felt almost familiar.

She hesitated in the doorway of the waiting room, her hand tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. This was the first time she'd been back since leaving with Sable, and the contrast hit her harder than expected. The space was warmer now, sunlight filtering through a frosted glass window high on the wall, casting soft patterns across the sleek, minimalist furniture. A few people sat scattered across the chairs -- some scrolling through their holo-screens, others staring into the middle distance with the vacant expression of those accessing their Neurolinks.

The walls were painted in muted shades of green and gray, calming without being cold. A pot of tall, leafy plants sat in the corner, their presence a subtle reminder that not everything in this chrome and steel world was artificial. Riley's gaze shifted to the receptionist's desk, where a woman with a cheerful, round face was typing briskly on a touchpad. Her dark curls were pinned up, and she wore a neat navy blouse under her white lab coat.

"Hi there," the woman said with a warm smile as Riley approached. "You must be Riley. I'm Meg, Dr. Kline's assistant. She told me to expect you."

"Uh, yeah." Riley glanced around, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious in this pristine environment. "She's not... busy, is she?"

"She's finishing up a surgery," Meg replied, her tone light, as if this was the most casual thing in the world. "Shouldn't be too long. You can have a seat, and I'll let her know you're here as soon as she's free." She gestured to a tray nearby. "Would you like some tea? It's chamomile, good for nerves."

Riley hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks."

She accepted the steaming mug and retreated to an empty chair near the window. The warmth seeped into her hands as she cradled the cup, letting her thoughts wander. She'd been so focused on the idea of getting chipped, of moving forward, that she hadn't given much thought to what it would feel like to actually be here again. The clinic, with its pristine walls and quiet efficiency, was a far cry from the chaos she'd known most of her life.

Chirp hovered just above her shoulder, his optics flickering as he scanned the room. His cheerful hum drew the attention of a young boy sitting across from her -- probably no more than seven or eight, with wide eyes that lit up at the sight of the drone. The boy had obvious augmentations, his left arm a sleek prosthetic scaled perfectly to his small frame. He grinned and waved, and Chirp chirped back in response.

Riley found herself smiling faintly. It was strange seeing Chirp bring joy to someone else. For so long, he'd been hers alone -- her companion through the worst of it. Now he felt like a small piece of light in a world that was still overwhelmingly unfamiliar.

"Riley?" Meg's voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see the receptionist gesturing toward a side hallway. "Dr. Kline's ready for you."

Setting aside her half-finished tea, Riley followed Meg through the clinic's quiet corridors. The walls here were lined with soft-lit panels, each displaying abstract patterns that shifted gently in color -- another attempt at making the space feel less sterile, she supposed. The faint scent of antiseptic grew stronger as they walked deeper into the building, mixing with the subtle electronic hum of medical equipment.

They reached a door labeled "Dr. Sienna Kline" in discreet silver letters, and Meg knocked lightly before pushing it open. The office beyond was smaller than Riley expected, with dark wood paneling that contrasted sharply with the light tones of the rest of the clinic. A large desk dominated one side of the room, its surface cluttered with stacks of datapads and a few framed photographs. Through her goggles, Riley caught glimpses of diagnostic readouts and patient files scrolling across a wall-mounted holo-display.

Dr. Kline stood by a cabinet, carefully placing a tray of surgical tools back into their slots. Her auburn hair was pulled back neatly, and her white coat bore subtle creases that suggested she'd been in surgery for hours. She looked up as Riley entered, offering a warm smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

"Riley," she said, her voice carrying the same steady confidence Riley remembered. "Good to see you again. You're looking much better than the last time you were here."

"Thanks," Riley managed, her voice quieter than she intended. Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she took in the office. Everything here spoke of precision and control -- from the perfectly arranged tools to the neat stack of patient files on the desk. It was overwhelming in its orderliness.

Dr. Kline gestured to one of the chairs facing her desk. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I hear you've been keeping busy with Ward’s team."

Riley sank into the offered chair, noting how it seemed designed to put patients at ease -- the perfect balance of support and comfort. "Yeah," she said, adjusting her position. "Working for Brendon. Fixing things."

"And how's that going?" Dr. Kline asked, settling into her own chair. She folded her hands on the desk, her full attention focused on Riley.

"It's fine," Riley replied, then hesitated. "It's good. Just... not enough."

Dr. Kline leaned forward slightly, her expression attentive but calm. "Not enough how?"

Riley glanced down at her hands, still fidgeting with her bag strap. "I can't... I can't do what I want to do. Not really. I keep running into walls because I don't have..." She swallowed hard. "Because I'm not chipped."

"I see." Dr. Kline nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. "And you're ready to take that step?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Riley forced herself to meet Dr. Kline's gaze, fighting back the anxiety churning in her stomach. "I need to know how it works," she said finally. "All of it. No sugar-coating."

Dr. Kline's expression remained steady as she reached for a datapad. "Of course. You deserve to understand exactly what you're considering." She tapped the pad's surface, bringing up a detailed holographic display of the human nervous system. "Let me walk you through the entire process."

The next hour passed in a blur of technical explanations and medical terminology. Dr. Kline was thorough, breaking down each step of the procedure with practiced clarity. She explained about the neuroports that would be installed at the base of Riley's skull, the microfilaments that would integrate with her nervous system, and the ways the Neurolink would interface with her brain.

Each detail made Riley's stomach twist a little tighter, but she forced herself to listen, to understand. This wasn't just about getting an upgrade -- it was about fundamentally changing how she interacted with the world. The thought both terrified and excited her.

"And the cost?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Kline's expression softened slightly. "Including the neuroport installation, surgery, and aftercare? Thirty-two thousand credits."

The number hit Riley like a physical blow. She'd known it wouldn't be cheap, but hearing the actual figure made her chest tighten. "I don't..." She shook her head, frustration rising. "I can't afford that."

"I know," Dr. Kline said gently. "Most people in your position can't, at least not at first. But there are opportunities out there for someone with your skills." She paused, seeming to consider something. "I might know someone who could help with that."

Riley looked up, hope flickering through her uncertainty. "Who?"

"His name is Rio," Dr. Kline said, pulling up another file on her datapad. "He's what we call a fixer -- someone who connects people with opportunities. He's trustworthy, which is rare in this city." She glanced at Riley over the rim of her glasses. "If you're serious about this, I can put you in touch with him."

Riley nodded, her throat tight. "Please."

"I'll send him your contact information." Dr. Kline's smile returned, warm and encouraging. "Expect a call soon. And Riley?" She waited until Riley met her gaze. "You're making the right choice. Sometimes we have to leave our old beliefs behind to become who we need to be."

The words followed Riley as she left the clinic, echoing in her mind as she made her way back to Sable's apartment. The city stretched endless above her, its towers reaching toward a sky she could barely see through the metallic haze. Somewhere in that maze of steel and neon, opportunity waited. She just had to be brave enough to take it.

***

Riley paced the length of Sable's apartment, her footsteps muffled by the honeycomb-patterned tiles. The space felt smaller than usual, compressed by the weight of anticipation. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Helix City's endless sprawl of neon and steel created shifting patterns of light and shadow across the room. Chirp buzzed lazily nearby, his newly repaired shell gleaming as he followed her movements. The quiet whir of his thrusters was oddly soothing, a familiar sound in a moment filled with uncertainty.

Her goggles pinged softly with each lap of the room, marking the time in steady increments. Two hours had passed since leaving the clinic. Two hours of silence, of waiting, of wondering if Rio would call at all. She'd expected it to happen immediately -- the moment Dr. Kline sent her information. But the minutes stretched into hours, and her comm unit remained stubbornly quiet.

Chirp dipped low, nudging her calf with a gentle bump. Riley paused mid-step and glanced down at him, managing a faint smile. "I'm fine," she murmured, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her.

"You're lying to the bot now?" Sable's voice cut through the silence, carrying its usual edge of dry amusement. She stood in the apartment door, soaked in sweat with a towel wrappeda round her neck. She had just returned from exercising and Riley wondered how long she had been standing there. Her sharp gaze was fixed on Riley, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Riley stopped pacing, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm just... restless."

"Restless is putting it mildly." Sable took a long sip from her water bottle, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Sit down before you wear a hole in my floor. I like these tiles."

Riley hesitated but eventually sank onto the couch, her legs bouncing with nervous energy. Chirp settled on the armrest beside her, his thrusters clicking softly as he powered down. She stared at her comm unit on the coffee table, willing it to light up with Rio's call.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Sable asked, her tone casual as she sauntered into the living room. "He doesn't call? You find another way. You always do."

Riley shot her a skeptical look. "You don't know that. What if he doesn't think I'm worth the risk? What if Dr. Kline was wrong about him? What if--"

"What if the sky falls and we all have to learn to breathe vacuum?" Sable cut her off, dropping into the chair opposite Riley and crossed her legs. "You're spiraling, kid. Stop it."

"I just..." Riley's voice cracked slightly. "I don't want to screw this up. Thirty-two thousand credits. That's... that's more than I've ever even seen."

Sable's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You won't screw it up. But sitting here beating yourself up isn't helping anyone." She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "You made a decision, Riley. Now follow through."

Riley looked away, her gaze catching on Chirp's quiet form. The little drone bobbed slightly in sleep mode, his presence comforting in a way she couldn't quite explain. "It's not just the call," she admitted quietly. "It's everything. The surgery, the change, what it means..." She swallowed hard. "Sometimes I can still hear my father's voice, warning me about how corps use augmentation to control people. How it's a trap."

"Kid." Sable's voice softened, losing its usual edge. "Your father's beliefs didn't get you this far -- you did. You're the one who survived. You're the one who's here, making choices for yourself." She paused, something flickering behind her eyes. "You're not betraying him by adapting. You're doing what he taught you -- finding a way to keep going."

Before Riley could respond, the sharp trill of her comm unit cut through the air. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as the device lit up with an incoming call. Chirp's sensors flicked on at the sound, his frame tilting curiously toward the noise.

"Well?" Sable prompted, raising an eyebrow. "Answer it."

Riley's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the comm unit. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice before accepting the call. "Hello?"

The voice that answered was smooth and professional, carrying an odd warmth that she hadn't expected. "Riley? This is Rio. Dr. Kline spoke highly of you."

"Yes, that's-- that's me," Riley managed, cursing the slight tremor in her voice. "Thank you for calling."

"I understand you're looking for work," Rio continued, his tone steady and assured. "I've got something that might interest you. Meet me at the Wayfarer's Lounge tomorrow at noon. We'll discuss the details there."

Riley nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. "Okay. Yes. I'll be there."

"Good. Don't be late." The call ended abruptly, leaving Riley staring at the comm unit in her hand.

"Well?" Sable asked, though her knowing smirk suggested she'd heard every word.

"He wants to meet tomorrow," Riley said, her voice barely above a whisper. The reality of it hadn't quite sunk in yet -- that first step toward her future, finally within reach.

Sable leaned back, satisfaction written across her features. "Told you. First step's the hardest, kid. Now you're in motion." She stood, stretching casually. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be interesting."

Riley set the comm unit down, her fingers lingering on its smooth surface. She glanced at Chirp, then out at the city beyond the windows. The endless maze of lights and shadows seemed different now -- less threatening, more full of possibility. One step at a time, she thought. One step at a time.

Later Riley lay in her alcove, staring up at the ceiling as the city's glow painted shifting patterns across it. Sleep felt impossible, her mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow's meeting. Chirp rested in his charging dock nearby, his power indicator pulsing softly in the darkness like a mechanical heartbeat.

The familiar sounds of the building filtered through the walls -- the hum of the environmental systems, the distant rumble of the mag-lev trains, the occasional muffled voices of neighbors living their lives in their own small spaces among the clouds. Sounds that had once seemed alien now formed a comforting rhythm, a reminder of how far she'd come from the Driftlands' desolate silence.

She turned onto her side, watching the city lights dance across the floor. Somewhere out there, opportunity waited. Not just a job or a way to earn credits, but a chance to become something more than her circumstances had allowed. The thought should have terrified her -- and part of it did -- but mostly she felt ready. Ready to step beyond the boundaries others had set for her, ready to define herself on her own terms.

Her father's voice still whispered warnings in the back of her mind, but they seemed fainter now, like echoes from a life she'd outgrown. She would always carry his lessons with her -- about survival, about self-reliance, about never trusting blindly -- but she could choose which ones still served her and which ones she needed to leave behind.

The city never truly slept, and neither did its opportunities. Tomorrow would bring whatever it brought, but for the first time in longer than she could remember, Riley felt like she was truly awake to meet it.