He dashed down the path, hoping he’d land a hit before they saw him, or muddle through some other way. In the upper left of his field of vision, a green bar became visible, and it shrank as he ran.
What the hell?
The bar flashed urgently when he was still forty feet from the bush on the left where he’d seen activity. Next there was a sliver of green, and then…
He just stopped running. He tried to start again, but the green bar flashed, slowing him to a comically slow, leisurely stroll. He panted. How the hell am I already tired?
Rick watched in frustration as Alex approached the small bush that hid the ambusher she’d chosen to fight. As if like clockwork, when she was within ten feet, the would-be ambusher leapt from behind the vegetation, his arms up, ready for a fight.
Rick studied the other side of the road where the enemy he’d chosen had been. There wasn’t yet any movement. He must know I’m here, right?
But nothing else happened on that side of the road. Alex tried to clothesline the other bot, but it stepped aside and avoided her, then turned to face her as she raced past and skidded to a stop before she also turned. It left the bot’s back turned to Rick.
He looked at the side of the road where ‘his’ bot was, and still, there was nothing. When his panting subsided, he changed direction, and headed straight toward the back of the bot Alex had chosen. She and the bot were about to close with one another, and it was possible their fight could make the bot change position, ruining his chance at a surprise attack. Tentatively, he jogged five steps. The green bar appeared again, though it had recovered to mostly full. He checked his assigned bot’s location in the bushes, and again, there was no movement. If he ran, he’d make it. He dashed.
When she saw him approach from behind her attacker, Alex stopped at a neutral distance, and that was enough to keep the bot’s head in place long enough for Rick to—
Bang!
The bot dropped as soon as Rick’s fist smashed the base of its skull.
“That was—” Alex said.
Then, Rick dropped too, as the conditioning took over, making his world swim in a kaleidoscopic of buzzing color. He choked on the bitter taste in his mouth, and his eyes watered. The ringing in his ears threatened to deafen him, and he couldn’t tell whether he’d gotten dirt in his mouth, or it was just dry.
“What’s wrong with—” Alex began to ask.
He rolled on the ground, unable to get his bearings. His heart beat so fast, he feared he might have a cardiac arrest. An incongruent thought flew through his awareness. Is it possible to die in a deep sleep simulation? Wasn’t that just an urban legend?
There were sounds of shuffling, perhaps the other bot had been triggered. Rick confirmed it was so when he caught a glimpse of Alex grappling with another AI bot fighter who looked like a Mui Thai boxer. It was hard to make out through the involuntary tears in his eyes. He grimaced as one of the fighters—he suspected it was Alex—stumbled as she trampled him.
Now that he wasn’t fighting anymore, his heart rate slowed and he gained enough of his sense to roll continuously in one direction so as to get out of the way of the combatants.
I’m a nonviolent offender…
Nonviolent.
Nonviolent.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Non—
He rolled into the base of a small tree, and stopped. The rough bark scratched his flank, but it wasn’t a deep scrape. His eyes weren’t gushing tears anymore, so he opened them and tried to reorient himself.
Alex bobbed and feinted near the new assailant. The bot’s posture was one of exhaustion, judging by the slow steps it made. That Alex remained on her feet and hadn’t been pulled to the ground yet was a shock. Most one-on-one fights went to the ground.
He’d had that thought too soon; the inevitable happened, and both fighters went to the forest floor, though it had been Alex who’d initiated the ground-game gambit. He couldn’t suppress his admiration as she slammed an elbow into the supine fighter, knocking it out or killing it—whatever the death mechanic was in this game.
Alex stood, but bent, heaving as she fought for breath. “What”—she panted—“the fuck”—she gulped—“was that?”
Rick said nothing, even after she approached and stood over him, casting a dark shadow over his body.
“What the hell, man?”
He was slow to his feet; he dreaded the condemnation in her eyes. “I told you, I’m not—”
“A fighter. Yeah. But you are, though.”
He stood and sighed. “I’m not.”
She stared at him a long while, saying nothing, frowning with disappointment. After the silence had reached the zenith of its awkwardness, she said, “I’m gonna have to tell Hector you’re—”
“Broken. Yeah.”
“I was gonna say…” The expression on her face softened, and she didn’t finish her sentence.
“I just want to be a courier, man.” Rick stared at the leaves on the ground.
Alex was quiet, then said, “I don’t know. Even a runner has to fight sometimes.”
*************************************
“What do you mean he can’t fight?” Hector seemed pissed.
“I mean there’s something wrong with him.” Alex’s disembodied voice rose from the speaker on Hector’s desk. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen.
“Manuel said—”
“I know what Manuel said.” Alex’s voice was distorted where the volume of her protest overwhelmed the capability of the tiny speaker within the machine.
Rick ignored that they were talking about him right in front of him. He’d been called to the office, and he hadn’t felt like this since high school.
No, that’s not true.
Hector addressed Rick directly. “What the fuck, man? After what Manuel said—”
“I told you I’m not a fighter. Not once during this entire shit-show did I say, ‘Yo, Hector, let me into your fighting tournament.’” He gritted his teeth.
“I put a lot of money on this tournament,” Hector said.
“Before or after you pulled me in?”
Hector grimaced and closed his eyes. “Both. I mean, he said you dismantled the level ten training bots like they were cardboard cut-outs.”
Rick offered nothing, he simply looked at Hector, as if impervious to the uncomfortable quiet. The tension in the room grew, but Rick did nothing but stare at his boss, making it clear he wouldn’t offer an explanation.
Hector frowned. “I guess you’re back to being a courier again. Too bad for you—the pay isn’t nearly—”
“I know what the pay is,” Rick said, already headed for the door.
*************************************
As he made the journey across town, he breathed deeper now that the humiliation was over. It had been worth it, just to give Kristina some respite from the nightmares. He attained some measure of comfort at that.
The mood carried him along those first few blocks, but the further he got from Hector’s warehouse office, the more he doubted himself.
The shadows grew long as he walked, making him feel smaller as the light dimmed around him. Few people were on the street this late in the afternoon. A mile from his apartment, the first streetlight flickered on and he jumped. He’d been entirely in his head, unable to keep his attention on his surroundings due to the constant advertising streaming in through his implant. Such is the life of a Muni serf.
Like all advertising, it was designed to get his attention, and though he could shrink the images into one corner of his visual periphery and turn down the volume, it took active mental work to tune out the bombardment of pitches for any number of products or services he could barely afford anyway. He wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts until he crossed his apartment’s threshold. That didn’t mean he abandoned all sense; he looked up every now and again, but he wasn’t carrying a package and his unstylish clothes made it pretty clear he didn’t have anything worth robbing. If anything, someone meeting him on the street was as likely to think Rick was a thug himself than to figure him a mark. His features were dark, and five o’clock shadow adorned his face. Besides that, he was tall, lean, and muscular to boot. If someone wanted to jump him, Rick would have no choice but to run, but no one could see that just by looking at him. When he raised his head and saw his apartment building in the distance, his posture softened. The place he shared with Kristina was a ground level flat with bars on the windows, a feature it shared with every other ground level window on his block.
He’d just entered his code into his door’s security panel when the attack came from behind.