Tailspin, page 2
Bail appeared from one of the aisles. “Got it,” he said, and he held up a shiny silver filter. “Took me a while to find the one I wanted.”
“Are you buying?” Rankin asked.
“Waited for your sale,” Bail added. “Fifteen percent off, right?”
Rankin’s eyes furrowed. “Ten,” he growled, his dog ears flat to his head.
“Okay,” Bail said. “Ten it is. We’ll take it, on the condition that you can get it delivered in less than six hours.”
“Where to?” Rankin asked, his hands flicking over his desk unit, bringing up a map of our area.
Bail moved forward, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he sent his garage address over to the keeper.
“Might take seven. That’s a fair way from me.” Rankin groaned.
Bail fell silent, weighing the time and cost while my stomach churned. That tiny part really would make a difference. The fuel would get through the engine so much better, which meant the car would respond faster, and I had much more of a chance of winning my race.
“Okay,” Bail said and held his hand out.
Rankin shook it, and my best friend’s face paled. I’d saved a long time for that money, and it was gone in seconds.
I checked my time again.
Aug-World Credits = 0
Time Remaining = 5 minutes.
“Bail,” I said, getting his attention. “I gotta go. I’ll message you later, yeah?”
Bail turned to me and smiled. “You okay?”
“I’m gonna be blind from today. Till I get some more AWC.”
“Shit, that sucks.” His eyes fell; he knew “blind” meant the absolute worst: I would be cut off from Aug-World, cut off from instant contact with everyone through their system, the net. If I messaged anyone, it had to be text again, old school. His crooked face held the one thing I hated the most. Sympathy.
I left them finishing the deal off, and I walked a few blocks. Aug-World shopping was a breeze. In here, you could see anything, be anything with enough money. I wanted one more look at my dream. Just one more while I had the time.
I entered the next shop, with the bell jingling above me. It always made me smile.
“Back so soon, Master Korolyov?” the sweet young woman I knew as Fay asked from behind the counter.
“Last chance for a while,” I replied.
“Would you like to see the usual?”
I nodded, and within a moment she appeared in her sales assistant suit. She made me laugh. Suited and booted, yet her pink-tipped, spiked hair, plaited in long white tails down each shoulder gave away a wilder side. She pressed play on lot item 1017 and the instructions flashed up. I always read them, even if I knew every single word.
Spinal TAP – Public Information – Version 1.0
This mod necessitates a full spinal replacement from L5 to C1 and is a true scientific marvel, designed to integrate seamlessly with the body’s neural network, allowing precise control signals to be sent and received between organic and inorganic constructs.
Once the spinal implant is in place, the TAP is connected to a left and right branch. At the end of each branch is a node which acts as the intended vehicle’s eyes. For example: Tier 1 has two spinal branches, four nodes, to Tier 5 which would have the maximum of seventeen branches and thirty-four nodes.
This mod enables the user to control a variety of vehicles and devices, within a limited distance and without requiring actual physical input. The control signals are routed through the owners’ neural network by a series of specialized sensors and processors built into the implant itself and utilizing Aug-World. This enables precise and responsive control, even in extremely stressful situations requiring split-second decisions.
The implantation process is delicate and complex, necessitating the collaboration of a team of highly skilled and accredited M-Corp surgeons and medical professionals to ensure that the implant is properly installed and fully functional.
The implant is made of a variety of advanced materials, including carbon fibers, titanium alloys, and biocompatible polymers, all of which have been carefully chosen to provide the necessary strength, durability, and compatibility with the human body.
This mod is a critical and life-changing technology for those who wish to rely on the TAP for daily activities, allowing them to interact with the world in previously impossible ways. It exemplifies the power of human ingenuity as well as the remarkable capabilities of modern medicine and engineering from M-Corp’s finest.
The skeleton structure of the human spine showed first, rotating, from L5 to C1, then the tech appeared alongside it. The new fully reconstructed metal spine perfectly aligned with the curve of your body, and from each vertebra, like the branches of a tree, split what M-Corp called nodes, numbered for ease and up to a maximum of 17.
I could do nothing but stare at these glorified and highly modified bionics. Tier 1 of 5. Trash, Basic, Professional, Elite, and Artisan. But perhaps this, trash tier, was the only tier I could ever afford. I read over its details yet again, dreaming of one day owning something so wonderful.
TAP - X2/10 *X Two-Ten*
Tier: One
M-Corp’s Xenith Series - Three Branches = 6 nodes.
Unlike Spinal Reinforcement Mods, the Spinal TAP is of the highest-level M-Corp can provide in spinal science.
This mod requires a full spinal replacement L5 to C1 and is a scientific marvel, allowing precise control signals to be sent and received between organic and inorganic constructs.
To use this model, you must learn to separate your mind. Training starts, of course, into two, then three, then up to the maximum of four.
WARNING:
Implantation is delicate and complex, requiring a team of highly skilled and accredited M-Corp surgeons and medical professionals to properly install the implant.
A full consultation with a TAP Specialist is advised to discuss suitability for this procedure. It is not for the faint of heart. A very strong will and strong stomach for pain is a must.
(M-Corp holds no responsibility if this surgery goes wrong even if a legitimate consultation is on record and it is performed by an M-Corp accredited surgeon.
Warranty: Zero
Durability: 100/100
Slot Cost: 12 - Credit Cost - 9,999
With up to six silver titanium nodes directly connected to your spine, you will be able to feel and see everything of the item you’re controlling, be it mecha, military tech, or drone. You will be in perfect harmony with anything you pilot.
If I could afford it, this model would become one with each and every nerve in my body. I was totally ignoring warnings coming with the surgery.
I let out a deep sigh as I sat there; the slot cost alone for the mod—twelve!—meant it was way out of my reach.
Just like the life I wanted.
Pilot.
Aug-World Credits = 0
Time Remaining = 15 seconds.
I let the image of the TAP fade. “Thanks for the look, Fay. I’ll see you around, yeah.”
She didn’t get to respond. My time was up.
My bedroom came back into view, and I stretched, banging my elbow on the wall. Fucking stupid funny bone. Was. Not. Funny! Mornings were always my time in Aug-World. I got up early every single day, 4 a.m. early, when the cost of jacking in was always the lowest, when there were fewer…people. It was a transitional time. Those who stayed up late had gone to bed; those who slept late were not awake yet. It was peaceful. It was heaven.
Circumstances over the last few days had me doing everything in a blind rush. I’d come in from my second job and found the notice on our lower apartment door, calling Bail right away. As a family, we were out of time.
FINAL EVICTION NOTICE
Arrears = -3500 - Pay up or get out!
Signed - Sgt. Vrolk.
There were no other chances for us. We’d been living hand to mouth since…well, since my stepfather, Tsomak, fucking Jamal Koloity, had injured himself. No work, no money, no food, no nothing.
Tsomak had been injured in training.
In fucking training.
My biological father had died at the last wall breach. Being injured meant Tsomak was only earning half wages. And half wages meant no food and just enough money to pay the rent.
A slap on our kitchen table echoed in my mind, and I jumped, just like I knew my mom would have upstairs. The yelling started immediately after.
I didn’t need to leave the house just yet, but I really ought to. This wasn’t going to go down well. There hadn’t been a single day recently that had.
Tsomak’s voice carried, just like his slap had. “If he doesn’t get that money by tonight, there’s nothing I can do.”
Everything rested on my shoulders, on the upgrade to my car, and my race tonight.
My HUD’s clock currently showed the local time as 5:21 a.m. I wasn’t supposed to leave until much later today, but I desperately wanted to get away now.
My mom’s cries were heard next, begging and pleading.
But she was powerless to change the situation. There was nothing she could do, absolutely nothing.
And as much as I hated to say it, there was nothing Tsomak could do, either.
We’d been slated for eviction for months.
Each of us was responsible for covering our own living expenses. I didn’t have any kind of stable job and despite my parents doing their best to assist me financially, we had gotten behind on the rent payments. Our need for food was obvious, and this was the final straw.
Either pony up the cash or get out.
2
Our front door opened, then banged shut. Low cries wafted down the hallway.
I waited a fraction of a minute longer, slid my holey boots on, then padded up the few steps leading to our primary living quarters.
Mom sat with her head in her hands, her gray-streaked hair damp from a cold shower, no doubt, flat to her head.
“Mom,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
With wet, stained cheeks and red, raw eyes, she looked up at me. “Rus,” she said, then apologized, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Mom wiped the tears with the back of her hand and extended a hand for me. I approached, and she immediately threw her arms around me, hugging me tight. “You know how he is,” she muttered. “The injury…”
Sadly, I did. I knew all too well.
In the past several weeks, Mom had started working a new job, and I had been racing on the street, doing whatever I could to earn some extra money.
Even though it had been a successful week, tonight’s race was the one that counted most. I was desperate for a number one victory.
Mom gave me another squeeze and pushed back, fixing her hair.
I sat, then poured myself some water. The growl from my stomach was audible enough for her to hear.
“I can fix you some eggs?”
I nodded, and my stomach growled again. “Thanks, Mom.”
It didn’t take her long, the fat splashing and eggs crackling in the pan as she gently fried them. The burnt smell of long-overused fat stung my nostrils.
I gulped down my water in the vain hope it would satisfy my appetite. It did not. When she finally put the eggs in front of me, I was already too hungry to eat them, and nausea spread through my body. I would eat them, though.
“What if I lose?” I asked her, picking up my spork and taking a bite of egg white first. We might not have had any money, but she always made perfect eggs. The fat, though old, tasted of bacon, and the slightly sweet and peppery taste caught me by surprise, as usual.
Mom turned to the sink and ran just enough water to wipe the pan clean before returning to the table and saying, “If you lose, we can’t pay the rent, and we’re out.” Her shoulders slumped. “There’s nothing else we can do.”
“Mom, it’s winter,” I cautioned, beginning to sense the most trying months of the year. “Where would we go?”
“Back to Roterdon,” she suggested.
I finished the last bite of eggs, wishing there had been more, and then I went to give her another embrace. “We’ll be okay,” I said. “You’ll see.”
“Call at the market on your way home,” she said and turned back to the table to steady herself. “Pick us up something nice.”
I nodded, but she couldn’t see. “I will. I’ll head out now, see if I can grab some work with Tsomak.”
“Go easy on him,” my mom begged. “This isn’t his fault.”
I didn’t answer her. Of course, it was his fault—stupid injury. I grabbed my coat off the back of the door before I left, slipping it on.
My coat was far too thin for the weather, and it was too short in the arms. The wind was biting. I had sprouted up over the course of the previous year, but due to the lack of food, I was tall and slender. That was good, however, for racing. The majority of my friends in this area were considerably more muscular, and the added weight slowed them down ever so slightly during a race. I was always one step ahead of the competition due to my size. I cinched the coat around me even more tightly, put my arms into alternative sleeves to keep them warm, and walked a little faster. Our home was only thirty minutes away from the city’s job boards, and my HUD showed me Tsomak’s flashing, moving icon; he had a significant head start.
***
It took me some time walking and sprinting to catch up to him. That was fine. When I came upon him, he was standing by the roadside and kicking the curb. I was able to catch his attention. Only two or three other men were in the area at this time of the morning. Maybe he hadn’t been paying attention, and the bus had already come and gone. That would be terrible.
I knew he wanted the work; we needed it, and we were all up well before time.
I stood next to him, and he cast a glance in my direction. Those eyes…I’d never seen him show such strong feelings before. It caused me to take a step back. His shoulders sagged forward, and he asked in a hushed tone, “Why on earth did you follow me?”
“Thought we’d have a better chance to work together,” I answered honestly. It was the truth. The board’s job list flickered from one display to the next. I might have had no credits left for Aug-World, but the city made it so normal people could see things, jobs, ads…sales.
The two of us together, a worker and a laborer, meant that, even if the pay was low, we’d be more likely to be taken on as a team for a job than someone else who was working alone. “They been yet?”
“Bus is late,” someone else moaned beside me.
When I looked around, I saw Lex, who was one of our neighbors. His glum expression conveyed he was much more aware than most were about our situation.
“Unusual,” I said, my eyes drifting down the street. Wonder what was holding it up?
It wasn’t only unusual; it was so late that the second lot of drifters made an appearance. The work queue was huge. Tsomak’s face fell as the manager picked all the other crews but us. It was becoming increasingly unlikely that we would get anything for the day.
The manager’s eyes fell on him. “You run top rope?” she asked.
Tsomak’s eyes came my way. “Rusty can.”
“I can!” someone else shouted
What? He used my nickname! He never called me Rusty, only Rus or Ruslan.
“What level?” the manager asked.
“Six,” the other guy shouted.
“Seven I think,” he replied for me.
What? Crap, he’d volunteered me. Why? He needed the work. That was a stupid move.
I met the manager’s stern eyes with mine. “Ma’am” I said. “Yes, level seven.”
“Get on,” she commanded, waving her hand at the doorway.
I turned to Tsomak for help. “Go,” he ordered and shoved something in my hand. His knife. “Your mother has probably asked you to get something nice to eat for dinner, so put in some extra effort, yeah. Tonight, we’ll talk about it.”
At a loss for words, all I could do was nod and hurry to catch the bus before it drove away without me. There were no seats available, so I had no choice but to stand in the back and watch Tsomak leave, having suffered yet another defeat.
The bus jerked hard, and up into the air we went. A couple of the surrounding guys groaned, but not me. The higher we went, the better I felt.
Running rope, on the other hand. I heaved a sigh. It was a slang term for people who ran on high-altitude tracks. Shuttles would bring the materials up to the higher levels, and the workers running rope would unload the materials, also known as hand-balling, for the others who needed them. It was the most efficient and cost-effective method of transporting supplies to the higher floors of a building. Today was going to be hard, very hard.
Staring through the front windows of the bus, I could see our destination: the most popular structure in the High Roller Hotelier’s portfolio spanned the skyline. This was the Duan Leeatre. I’d been here before. Most of us had. It was the “job” that was most convenient for us, and it had been going on for a good number of months.
The Duan Leeatre vanished from view as we drew in closer. The dirty streets went with it as it turned to rough, patchy ground. We slowed, entering the one-way system around the bottom of the tower. The bus stopped, and several crews got off. When the bus set off again, it was in a circular rotation around the central tower. It stopped at every job site going up before it got anywhere near where I’d be. At least when the bus was empty, I got to sit and look out the window.
Even a hundred stories up, I stared yet even higher at the marvel she was. Her info popped up in the corner of my HUD. I flicked over it quickly, already knowing the details by heart.
M-Corp
Construction = Duan Leeatre
Luxury Military Complex
Height = 830 Meters
Stories = 160
Min Worker Level = 5
