CHAPTER 2

  [!] SRC: FLUIX RELAY 4/span>

  THE

  SPRINT

  STAKES: CRITICAL

  CLOCK: TICKING

  Xu kept his head down, the weight of the spear on his back felt like a constant reminder of his own poverty.

  He passed a Spec leaning against a rusted storefront. The guy looked like a god in his gleaming chrome plating, but Xu could faintly hear the pathetic whine of a cooling fan struggling to keep the suit from cooking the frail sack of meat inside.

  “Halt. You weren’t going to forget to pay your safe passage tribute and honor the legend that stands before you… Were you?”

  Paul always camped out around here in his nanosuit—if you could call it that. He wore a model that hit the shelves during The Merge. Honestly, it’s a miracle the thing even turned on. He’s been a bottom rung Spec as long as I can remember. He’d always hang around the lesser parts of town—probably just to feel better about himself.

  “Nope, come on, Paul, how could I forget about my favorite ‘idle’? Here, brought you a donut, catch.”

  Xu tossed him a donut from his collection. It was stale enough that it broke rather than bent, but Paul wouldn't notice through his helmet. Either way, he’d always get a little sick joy watching the man clumsily try to take off his helmet to eat it shakily.

  Xu watched him fumble with the seal, his gauntlets clacked against the faceplate. Across the street sat a Dice—a kind of impossible no one bothered to be nice to anymore. His skin had turned to thick, grey slate, six inches of useless armored skin that had overgrown until his eyes were practically—maybe even literally— sewn shut by his own body. He didn't even flinch at the clattering sounds of Paul’s suit. Maybe he couldn’t.

  Further down the alley, another one sat naked in a circle of singed, black concrete. He emanated a faint, but deep, red glow. He was basically a human radiator that everyone gave a ten-foot gap. Not that they had much of a choice.

  Then there was the floating one—tilted at a forty-five degree angle, as still and unmoving as the day physics excluded him. People had draped trash and old rags over him, turning a man into a coat rack of trash, not even a bulldozer could nudge him an inch. The city tried.

  A slightly peeled neon-red sticker, its center immaculately clean compared to the surrounding grime, was slapped directly over the man’s unblinking right eye.

  It readAIO Warning: Suspected Apostate.

  Xu’s eyes flicked back.

  Paul still hadn’t managed to take a bite.

  Xu sighed. Paul’s donut was as perfect—and as rock-hard—as it was 30 seconds prior.

  “See you around, Paul. Thanks for keeping the streets uh… occupied!”

  Paul didn’t look up. He was too busy fighting his own chrome coffin.

  The further he walked, the more the architecture began to lean. Buildings piled atop one anotherliterally. It was like demolition was overpriced, so instead, they built new ones atop them. It wasn’t very pretty, but over here, it wasn’t supposed to be. The morning sun was choked by a deep city smog. It had practically been replaced by the seizure-inducing flicker of color that diffused through it at all times of the day.

  “Hey! Give me my shit back, you mangy mutt!”

  Xu didn't stop, but he couldn’t help but glance.

  To his left, a vendor was trying to pry a purse from the jaws of a man scuttling on all fours. The thief’s eyes were wide and milky, his mouth foaming with something that looked like blue engine coolant or maybe a designer enhancement drug. It was hard to tell which was which anymore.

  He paused.

  Xu kept moving, his boots crunching on a mix of shattered glass and discarded tech-shards. This part of the district felt a little like home. It was his very own neon-lit hellhole. The hum of a dozen overlapping, illegally rigged grids vibrated through his skin. Overhead, a leaking coolant pipe dripped neon-blue fluid onto a glowing, purple rune, spray-painted onto the asphalt.

  It was a Haste circle—a cracked and fading one to be specific, probably illegally drawn by some burnout scripter just trying to outrun a debt collector.

  Xu immediately stepped on the rune. A faint static shock zapped his heel, frizzing his hair, but it gave him zero speed, zero sky time, and more than a little disappointment. A mana robber.

  "Hey, Spear-boy! Where'd you find the little antique? The museum have a garage sale?"

  The shout came from a cluster of Specs huddled under a flickering holographic sign for a noodle shop. They had mismatched mods. One had a hydraulic arm that hissed with a leak every time he moved, but another—probably a Scripter dropout—wore robes stained with grease.

  He flicked a finger. A small luminous circle of wind slammed into something in front of him, spinning it like a top while the other Specs laughed.

  "Keep it spinning, Wiz! I wanna see if he pukes!"

  They were huddled in a circle, laughing as they kicked something back and forth. It was a Dice, or what was left of one. The man looked like a translucent outline of a person who seemed to have lost all his mass. Every time a boot connected with his ribs, he didn't fall or fold like Xu had expected. Instead, he drifted up like a balloon as his mouth opened in an utterly silent, airy wail.

  A sick weight settled in Xu’s gut. He wanted to say something—to tell the guy with the leaking arm that his rig would look better up his ass, or at least do SOMETHING—but he kept his eyes on the ground anyways. He knew the stories. He knew what usually happens to un-modded locals who try to play hero against a pack of Specs with everything to lose and a battery full of nothing.

  “Don’t mess with this one! Maybe he’z got one of those magic spears that’s been eatin’ us on ez back!” a voice rasped through a voice-box that sounded like a quiet blender of glass.

  “My rig’s gotta leak in it—come over here so I can use those rags to plug it!”

  A spray of synthetic phlegm hit the pavement inches from Xu’s heel. He didn’t turn. He kept his stare locked on the rusted seam of the sidewalk, his grip tightening on the spear strap till his knuckles went white.

  “Check the gait on him,” a Spec with a twitching, optical sensor hissed. His mechanical eye was zooming in and out with a cycle of wet, mechanical clicks. “He’s walkin’ like he’z got somewhere to be. Someone should tell 'em the morgue dun open 'til six.”

  The laughter that followed was a cluster of grinding gears and wheezing lungs. Xu’s pulse hammered against the back of his throat, constantly reminding him that his feet were moving away while the abused Dice drifted behind him, helpless. Every step felt loaded with more shame than the last.

  Vrummmm.

  He pulled out his phone and squinted.

  The screen was barely legible with the sheer amount of neon in his surroundings.

  // ENCRYPTED //

  INSTRUCTOR

  SOURCE: RELAY_7

  ?

  [ SYNC ]

  PREPPING LINE...

  ??????????.??????????

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Xu’s heart stuttered anyway. He swiped to answer, immediately switching to audio, then pressing the cold non-newtonian glass to his ear.

  "Xu," the voice was like gravel.

  "You seem to be missing from morning assembly. Care to explain why you aren't in formation, or should I just mark you down for disciplinary?"

  Xu looked at the floating Dice drifting five feet off the ground, then at the Specs, who were already winding up for another kick.

  "I'm already here, sir," Xu lied, his voice remarkably steady despite the sweat running down his back.

  "Just… in the bathroom. Bad donut. I’m heading to the yard now."

  "Thirty seconds, Xu. Or I start the clock on your exit interview."

  The line went dead.

  He gripped the strap of his spear, leaned forward, and started to sprint.

  He stumbled, fumbling his phone out as he ran, almost dropping it twice.

  10:00 AMQ-LINK [||||]

  LEE

  Bahrom. 62 secods

  // Read: 10:00 AM

  ??????????.??????????

  Xu didn't run like a Spec. He didn't have hydraulic pistons in his calves to absorb impact. Every time his heels struck his worn-out soles against the concrete, it sent a shock of pure pain up his shins—at least… it usually did?

  ZAP.

  “I'M GOING TO SKIN WHOEVER JUST CUT ME FROM THE NET.”

  Probably fine if I run faster. Extra motivation.He burst out of the neon-flooded alleyway and hit the Perimeter Ward.

  Whoosh.

  Gone was the blue-and-pink glow of the ghetto, replaced by the lush, unnaturally green grass of the scripter training ground. A few floating globes of light bobbed gently in the air, keeping the temperature a perfect 72 degrees regardless of the season.

  Xu cut across the width of the field.

  He jumped over the end of the fence.

  Whoosh.

  Up ahead, he could see formation—a “perfect” grid of five cultivators-in-training. At the front stood Vance, facing the bathroom door like a man waiting for a bomb to go off.

  “—hell off my boot… …crying harder.” Bits and pieces of conversation wafted over.

  Lee was on the grass in front of him, hands wrapped around Vance’s ankle, firing a cry of inconsolable desperation. His rapier lay snapped on the ground to the side.

  Which meant he was twenty seconds early—or maybe even twenty-two. Xu veered toward the back of the camp, aiming for a high, narrow bathroom window. He didn't slow down. He couldn't—

  “Hey, whatcha up to, buddy?”

  His collar tightened. His momentum was completely reversed. Xu was yanked backward through the air, his feet leaving the grass before he slammed down onto his back.

  A head violated his vision, blocking the sun with a whirlwind of blonde hair.

  “I couldn’t help myself when I saw you sneaking around,” she said, looking down at him with far too much amusement. “You really thought you were a stealth expert?”

  “Not right now. He’s going to kill me,” Xu hissed, his voice was a frantic half-whisper as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Is that right?” Taylor slowly leaned back, catching a glimpse of the yard. “Lee looks like he’s still got—I don't know… maybe five or ten seconds left in him? Man! Is he trying to win a Grammy? You'd think that rapier was his bab—”

  “Are you stopping me or just here to gloat?” Xu interrupted, scrambling to his feet.

  “Okay, you caught me. Now let me go.”

  “You know me so well.” She smirked, reaching into her pocket. “Now, hurry and squeeze through your little window. Oh, and here’s a wristband. They put them out on the table this morning—probably to catch you specifically, if I had to guess. You can pay me back later, loser.”

  She tossed a slim, metallic band at his chest.

  Xu slipped through the window, careful of his spear snagging this time.

  Cli-ck.

  “Oh…Xu?”

  He paused.

  “I hope you’re feeling better after that donut. Go ahead, jump back in the ranks.” He gestured to the door and smiled.

  Xu walked through the doorway and stepped into the grass.

  “Oh, Xu. One more thing…”

  Xu grinned internally.

  “—mind showing me your wristband?” Vance’s voice was dripping in mirth.

  Xu lifted his arm dramatically, proudly showing off his bracelet-adorned wrist.

  “YOU—are SUCH a… good student Xu. It’s a miracle no one has given you… special treatment.” Vance strained through gritted teeth.

  “Indeed, it’s truly a wonder,” Xu said wistfully.

  [SIGNAL_LOST]

  // MEMORIAL_LOG_SN.062 //

  /

  \

  We are, no doubt, gathered here at the bottom of the page, to honor a true hero of Fluix City:

  Lee’s rapier.

  Snapping a perfectly good weapon just to buy your friend sixty seconds of breathing room is the highest form of love... Especially when they could have just left the house earlier.

  DROP AN "F" IN THE COMMENTS

  OR A SHORT EULOGY TO PAY YOUR RESPECTS

  ONWARD TO CHAPTER 3 ?