Chapter Nine
When I get home the Holo-sky is just beginning to shoot the bright rays of morning. Not for the first time I wish that it would rain, that the sky would be overcome with grey and spill out hot acid tears. The air is stifling and stale after being above ground, and even the blast of purified air that hits me when I enter my apartment building just doesn’t compare. I feel like a sailor without a ship, like a part of me’s missing, even though I’m not quite sure what that part is. The memory of Asher’s gaze defies me to find out, to look deeper. How is it that someone can seem to know more about me than myself, when I can’t tell a thing about him?
Shelley’s perched on a stool in the kitchen when I wander through the door, quietly munching some soggy cereal. She raises her eyebrows to signal “good morning.”
“Tell me about Asher,” I blurt out. My eyes widen almost as wide as hers as I sit across from her. She hurriedly chews and swallows.
“Why do you want to know?” she replies coyly. I roll my eyes, wishing I hadn’t brought it up. This has happened time and time again, her almost desperate attempts to set me up with her love interests’ friends. I’ve always wondered whether she truly wanted to be able to go on double dates, or if she’s given up on finding the right guy for her. I’ve given up trying to delve into her psyche; as much as she likes to fiddle with other people’s minds, she’s surprisingly abrasive to the reverse.
“Just curious,” I reply with a casual shrug. Her eyes narrow as her mind tinkers.
“I don’t know what he does beyond playing in Craig’s band, but I know his family’s supposed to be pretty wealthy, and that as long as Craig’s known him, he’s barely looked twice at a girl except for you,” she says decidedly. If I was eating I’d probably spit out my food in response.
“Me?”
“Apparently he’s been asking a lot about you, and don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way he looked at you. Wait, I forgot that I’m talking to a robot, so yes, when he looked at you, something changed. I can’t really describe it, it was like he forgot about the rest of the world,” she says. Normally I’d cough and make some kind of sarcastic statement, but this time it leaves me speechless.
“I saw him last night,” I say finally.
“And?” Shelley urges.
“And nothing. We talked for a bit, I guess. I don’t really know what to think,” I reply. She gives me that frustratingly annoying look of knowing.
“You like him, that’s obvious,” she says, head nodding.
“I’m curious,” I correct. Shelley throws up her hands in defeat.
“That’s it. I’m sitting this one out until you figure out what you want,” she says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “But Shells, I really wanted to talk in circles until one of our brains fried!” I mock-protest.
She shoots a glare at me. “Screw off. Anyway you have bigger fish to fry right now. Darcy was by looking for some merchandise. She didn’t seem happy, said she’d come back in half an hour, which is in like five minutes so I’m going to the Corp to work on some designs, okay?” she says.
“Shit,” I mumble in reply as Shelley hoists her bag onto her shoulder and retreats down the stairwell. Shelley is, to put it straight, petrified of Darcy. I don’t blame her.
I cringe a few minutes later as the door sounds with knocking and Darcy lets herself in. As usual she’s dressed in tight leather pants and a variety of different accessories. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and her mouth is already turned down in a grimace.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, saluting her with a coffee mug. She doesn’t smile back, just seats herself across from me, eyes boring into mine.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says.
“I don’t have anything on me today, Darcy,” I state firmly. This girl’s a wildcard; as much as I’ve made sure she knows who’s top dog in our relationship, there’s always the chanceshe’ll snap. That’s the thing with users; you never really know what might happen next.
“Spare me,” she replies, “I’m not here about the Ten, though I’ll be back later tonight and expect you to have some. I’m here because you’ve talked to my brother. What the hell are you thinking?” she spits.
My mind does a double-take. “I don’t know, we were at the same place at the same time?” I reply.
I swear she growls at me. “Stay away from Asher, Piper. I’m not joking. He’s not someone you want to get involved with, and I will personally be offended if you let this move any further,” she says.
“Calm down, Darcy. There’s nothing there to move further. Don’t you think I know better than to have some little tryst with a user?” I reply.
Her eyes widen, and to my complete surprise she starts to chuckle softly. I have my hand ready at my boot-knife, sure she’s finally cracked.
“You poor, poor thing,” she says, “you don’t even have a clue what you’re talking about.”
I raise an eyebrow in question, but she spins on the stool and slides out. “Get me some Ten, and stay away from my brother. Trust me, it’s just better this way,” she finishes, then saunters silently back out the door.
I wait in silence for a few minutes before I retreat to my bed, wishing away the growing, throbbing pain in my head. Either everyone’s insane, or I am. There’s too much to think about: my file, Asher, Darcy, Grier, the Corp—so I don’t. I simply pull the covers over my head and go to sleep, pushing it all as far away as I can.
Before reporting I steal off to Sandy’s place, thankful when he groggily answers his door.
“Piper?” he says.
“Thank God you’re home. Listen, I know you’re off tonight, but I need a favor, if you know what I mean,” I say. He looks back into his apartment as if checking to see if the coast’s clear.
“How much?” he asks quietly.
“Thirty,” I reply. He groans, and instead of inviting me in, he closes the door in my face. At first I think he’s just tired, but he returns a few moments later and deftly slips the baggie into my bag. I’m about to hand him some cash and thank him but he waves me off.
“It’s cool, get me back later,” he says.
I eye him, concerned. “Is everything alright, Sandy?” I ask. To this he shoots me a smile, but it’s forced, secretive.
“Just really, really tired. I’ll see you at work later, okay?” he says. I don’t even have the chance to reply before the door’s in my face again.
When I reach the Corp building the thought of cramming myself into an elevator stifles my breathing, so I decide to take the stairs. Eight floors up is a hefty jog, and my lungs burn as I push through the entrance door. My skin is flushed and sweaty when I hand my I.D. tag over to the front desk clerk. He’s middle-aged and refreshingly human, and smiles at me as I pass through the security gates.
“Good morning,” I call out to him.
“‘Morning Miss Madden,” he replies with a slight bow of his head. He sends my pass back to me on a small conveyor just as Grier steps out of the elevator. She ignores the security guard and huffs impatiently when he asks for her I.D. and to send the small wristlet she wears through the scanner. She eyes me wearily, eyes fixated on the pack I have wrapped around my thigh. She turns to the guard.
“You forgot to send her bag through,” she states. The guard’s face burns red, and he looks at me apologetically. Hesitantly I toss my bag over, knowing full-well that it’s got a heavy amount of narcotics stuffed within it. He sends it through the scanner, and without fail the alarm buzzes. Grier gives me a satisfied smirk as the guard opens my bag and pulls out the baggie, a frown immediately lining his face. I try to think of something to say, but come up short of the clichéd sayings of youth; holding it for a friend, and the like.
“I’ll have to talk to the Director about this,” he says, suddenly staunch and serious. Grier grabs her wristlet and sails past me with a smirk.
“Guess no one’s perfect,” she says. My stomach drops as I wait for Myra to decide what exactly she’s going to do to me.
When David and I were little, we used to play a game every time we got into trouble. If Mom was angry with us, we’d run to a small crook we’d found underneath her bed, just large enough for us both to fit into. We’d pretend we were hiding from evil genetic experiments or power-hungry soldiers. By the time we were finished with our game, Mom would usually be over whatever made her angry with us in the first place and we’d move on with our day. This time, I don’t have David to help me avoid reality.
I walk into Myra’s office expecting a land-mine of anger and insults, but the older woman is seated at her desk placidly. She raises an eyebrow when I enter, and I immediately seat myself in front of her.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asks me, the calmness in her voice irking me.
“I made a mistake, I should never have had anything like that on me, and it’ll never happen again,” I sound off. She keeps her gaze focused on me, as if challenging me to rebel.
“Very textbook. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Piper. Are you angry?” she asks.
“Now you’re my psychiatrist, too?” I sneer.
“There is no reason to be difficult. I want to help you get past your emotions. You must still be traumatized from everything that’s happened—the Ten just verifies that, of course,” she says.
“I’m fine. Trust me,” I reply.
“I’d still prefer you talk to someone and get some rest. Emotions aren’t beneficial when you’re on the field, even in virtual reality.”
“A night off without pay, right?” I chime. She nods, and I feel my blood boiling.
“You still need to be punished for this incident. I don’t take it lightly when my Hunters are carrying illegal paraphernalia, whether or not you’re using. You’ll be back on payroll again tomorrow, and in the future I trust you listen to Grier. She’s in charge when she’s scouting.”
I want to reply that I’m ten times more competent than Grier, that this job is a joke and I could do so much better, but I don’t. Because I can’t get a better job, and despite my previous training, I know my skills are slipping. So I simply nod and ask to be excused. If there’s one thing I learned in my years at this Corporation, it’s to pick my battles and always strive to do better. There’s always room for improvement.
Once I’m clear of the office I say a silent prayer in thanks that I got let off without severe persecution, though I have no idea what to say to Darcy when she eventually comes back to find me.
Despite Myra’s advice, I take out my frustrations in the VR room. Suited up with all my weapons, I can feel the cold breeze on my skin as I stride through dark city streets. I inhale deeply, always amazed at how very real the smells are. The pungent stink of black tar mixes with the floating tickle of grilled street meat, making my stomach growl and heave at the same time. My footsteps are soft, barely making a noise so I can hear even the slightest scrape of moving footsteps.
A faint whoosh catches me off guard, and I whirl around to see a female Harpy gliding around buildings like a vulture circling its prey. I nock a bolt into my crossbow and take aim, realizing a second too late that it’s a set-up. Another Harpy swoops down on me from behind, her sharp talons digging into my side, opening up large wounds on my abdomen.
Shit. I scramble for safety. I inspect my wounds, and even though I know they aren’t real, my stomach turns from the sight of my virtual blood. The second Harpy gracefully lands, her eyes broadcasting her smugness.
“You haven’t won yet,” I mutter. I toss my crossbow on the ground for some added speed and lunge toward the second Harpy, pulling out my daggers at the last minute. Her eyes go wide as my blades slash through her, the chemical reaction of the mingling blood combusting her before I can even turn to my next target. The first Harpy is on me before I can retaliate, and I wrestle her sharp claws away from my already bleeding wound. This one is a flyer and her skills don’t lie in melée combat, letting me easily force her to the ground. She pushes against me, trying to get free as I wiggle my daggers to stabbing point. However, before I can slice her she spits onto my face, her sluggish saliva temporarily blinding me.
I back off to wipe my eyes, giving her a window to get back into the air. By the time my eyes are clear, she’s already circling me, weaving in between broken traffic lights and crumbling billboards like a delicate paper plane. Instead of running for my crossbow, I study her pattern, avoiding the chunks of building raining down upon me as she pushes off for leverage. Noticing how close she’s getting, I ready my throwing daggers behind my back, letting one go just before she veers back toward me. It sinks into her chest with a sickening thump, and she falls to the ground as her body begins to convulse.
“Let me out,” I call out, and once again the virtual world fades away in messy pixels. Once the room is back in focus, I pull off my helmet and peel off the electrodes stuck to my skin.
“What did you think?” Sandy asks. I trudge up to the mezzanine level, my hair and face slick with sweat. Despite his strange behaviour this morning, my operator is back to his normal, cheery self.
“Perfect. That was your toughest program yet,” I admit. I think of the Temple teachings, about feeling for the right time to attack. This program will be perfect practice for me to hone the new skills set upon me. Reaching him, I can feel my energy dropping, and I crouch to the ground as I pant for air.
“Are you okay?” he asks, giving me a concerned look.
“Just a little tired,” I answer, pulling myself back up to my feet.
“What’s wrong, Piper? You know you can’t hide anything from me.”
I sigh reluctantly. I didn’t want to get into this.
“It’s the anniversary tomorrow,” I say quietly. He places a calloused hand on my back, trying to lend me support. One year since David’s death, and one year since my life was completely flipped around. There’s only so long I can pretend to forget about it.
“Do you want me to call your mom, or something?” he offers.
“No. I don’t need her worrying about me, too. She’s got enough on her plate.”
“And so do you. You’ve got to stop taking everything on like you’re invincible. A few years ago you were unstoppable, but things have changed. You’re older now, and all of that repressed stress is going to catch up with you. You can’t just come down here and work yourself to the bone whenever you’re upset,” he says.
I’m about to argue that I’m perfectly content doing just that, but he warns me with his eyes. “What else am I supposed to do?” I ask instead.
“Talk to someone about it, maybe? Tor would probably like to help, I heard you two are patching things up,” he offers.
I immediately shake my head no. “I don’t think it’s time for us to talk about that yet.”
“Then what about Grier? I read somewhere that girl-talk is the ultimate high for women.”
I catch myself in a harsh laugh. “That’s a definite no. Grier hates me, and I’m not quite sure I like her yet, either,” I say, keeping the anger from my voice.
Sandy sighs. “Ah, don’t be so hard on her. She’s actually pretty talented. I think she’s just used to being top dog around here and doesn’t like being threatened by a famous Hunter from Central. I mean, you do have quite the reputation,” he says.
I roll my eyes, wondering if it’s a compliment or not. “It’s all just a bit much for me right now. Anyway, I should get going. I’m supposed to take the night off because Myra thinks I’m a Ten-head now. Are you working all night again?”
He whistles slowly, like he’s about to take the blame for me being caught. Thankfully he knows well enough to keep his mouth shut about it. No sense in getting both of us in trouble. In a place like this, you never really know who’s listening.
“I’ll probably nod off in a few hours. I think you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep, as well,” he says. I wave back at him as I jump down from the mezzanine toward the exit.
“And Piper!” he calls.
I turn back to face him.
“Promise me you’ll talk to someone,” he finishes.
I shake my head and continue walking, pulling out my book and shooting to my dog-eared bookmark. This section is called Letting Go. How fitting.