Rain hits my eyes and the bike keeps fishtailing under me every few seconds like it wants to throw me off. I keep scanning the map clinics while pushing through night traffic that is barely moving. I keep glancing back at Sasha slumped over my shoulder. Her head bumps my back lightly each time I break..
I shake her shoulder with my free hand.
"Sasha. Hey. Sasha. Wake up."
Nothing. No twitch, no grunt, not even a breath I can feel.
My stomach tightens, assuming the worst. The temptation to turn straight to Vik sits heavy in my head, the kind of instinct that gets people killed. Vik is a twenty minute ride in this rain with traffic like this and I do not know how to handle wet roads on a bike at all.
On a map I spot a marker for a fitting place. High tier hospital. Expensive as hell. Far enough not to be in the first place they will search for injured criminals.
I pull the throttle a little more. The back wheel slides. I correct it a little and the smart bike does the rest. My ribs scream from the pain.
Half of my brain keeps replaying the moment Sasha stopped answering me earlier. I keep telling myself she is just out cold, just shock, just pain. The other half tells me to stop thinking and move.
I keep moving.
Two Biotechnica recon drones slide out from behind a floating ad. Sleek, wingless, all vents and sensors. My pulse spikes. They hover along the avenue as they scan every passing car. Every instinct screams to hide, to duck, to vanish. Instead I keep riding, head down to another turn, hoping their scanners do not notice me with a sudden turn.
I push the bike way harder than I should. Toxic rain hits my eyeballs and causes me to almost crash as I was going into a turn. The road is slick and cars keep appearing from blind spots like they want to ram me. I cut through a red light and felt my back tire slide again. The stabilizers try to compensate but the rain ruins everything.
One drone swivels, the camera cluster rotating toward me. I jam my thumb against the brake for half a second, letting the bike stop just before its line of sight. I had to reach out with a hand to hold Sasha just in case she fell off.
I slowly backed up the bike using my feet, causing intense pain as the point of contact was right on my missing toes.
After a few seconds the drone turns and hurriedly flies away.
I speed up immediately after that, hoping to leave before they get us.
A few hundred feet before the hospital, the bike beeps. Hard. Flashing red across the dash.
Remote owner override detected.
"fuck. fuck. fuckfuckfuck."
The bike locks up under me like I slammed a brick through the engine. The throttle dies. The stabilizers die. The whole thing becomes dead weight. And I slowly come to a halt.
I curse hard. I try to hack it through the wristport while still rolling but the interface keeps blinking that it needs minutes to break the lockout. Shit shit shit.
I do not have minutes. Overclocking now may cause me to pass out.
I grab Sasha, haul her onto my back, and jump off. My foot slams into the pavement hard and pain shoots up my leg. The bike keeps sliding behind us and crashes into the sidewalk, sliding and grinding on the concrete.
I adjust her weight, grabbing her by the underside of her thighs, take a breath that hurts, and start sprinting.
Every step feels like someone jabs a hot iron between my ribs. Sasha is dead weight on my back and her boots slip a little from the rain. I hook my arm under her knee to keep her steady and go through the automatic doors of the hospital.
Before its doors were splattered ads for cosmetic procedures and neural acceleration.
The lobby is way too clean. Bright light. Polished floor. My steps leave red smears behind me. The door closes behind me and the sound of rain suddenly cuts off.
I can hear the clerk before I see her, tapping her nails on the counter. A receptionist in a glossy white coat eyes me
"Gunshot wounds. Help. Please."
She looked down and up at me like I am a stray dog that wandered inside. She presses a button on her computer.
"You must deposit firearms before approaching the counter. Does she have insurance? We need confirmation before admission."
I force myself not to yell. But I'd rather have her calm than scared like me.
"I do not know. Can you check."
She rolls her eyes a little. "Come closer. The camera will scan her."
Fuck. Is there no other way. I look down and see that my hands are covered in her blood.
I step up. Sasha hangs limply. I squat down slightly and lean. The camera scans her face. The system chimes.
"Identity confirmed, Sasha Yakovleva. No insurance. Deposit required. Two thousand eurodollars. Conditions are listed here." She hands me a datapad like she is passing a menu at a diner.
For a second I consider kicking the counter over. Instead I swallow it and nod.
Finally some doctors rushed in with a stretcher from behind the sliding doors. Tone shifts instantly. They slide Sasha out of my arms. She grips me reflexively and I have to peel her fingers off one by one. Is this rigor mortis? Shouldn't be.
Her gun is missing. I do not know when that happened. Her face looks weirdly relaxed. Almost smiling. It makes my skin crawl. They take her away and I see that her whole back is covered in blood trickling down her body.
They rushed her out before I could even think.
Security guards step up from the corner of the room. A big guy that is probably 60% cyborg, full in a heavy ballistic armor.
I hand over every weapon I have on me, that being my Copperhead and Unity. The security guard quietly takes them and deposits them in a hidden chute inside the wall that is closed to be flush with the wall itself.
The receptionist keeps tapping her nails, watching me like I am ruining her night shift.
"Please pay here. Tips appreciated." and she points at a screen near her.
I stare at the number on the screen. Two thousand upfront. I have nothing close on hand.
"Just wait a second."
"Sir, we have a policy. Deposit must be paid within half an hour of an admission. Otherwise we reserve the right to deposit the person to the municipal medical facility within a week."
I open messages. I message Sprocket, the only one I know that has money to throw around at the moment.
"Lend me 2k please. Emergency. I will get it back in a few days."
Rainwater and blood dripped off me. A puddle forms at my feet. The receptionist looks down at the red footprints trailing across her perfect floor and exhales dramatically like I offended her ancestors, she presses another button.
"Biological hazard class 1 in the lobby." She announces her communications.
When she lifted her finger off the button she looked at me.
"Do you need that treated? Small treatments are also eligible for bonus points.
"I'll pass."
I keep pacing as I keep for the answer from Sprocket, occasionally glancing down the hall where they took Sasha.
It finally does.
"whats my full name?"
I stood there completely blank. Sprocket? Ugh, I, uh. I don't know.
Should I know? Is this a test? Maybe Vik? Contact Rebecca? Shit.
What are my options?
"I don't think I ever asked. Please, it's a medical emergency."
Then a transfer of 2500 hits my account.
"let me sleep in peace, annoying little shit"
"thank you"
I transferred the deposit so fast my hands trembled. Relief hit me in a strange wave and almost made my knees buckle.
I paid the receptionist. She actually smiled this time, which told me everything about how this hospital ran.
"And your contact information and the relation to the patient? The scanner seems to be malfunctioning."
I transferred my virtual id to the pc.
"Caelen Smith. Friend."
"Okay then."
"Can I see her?"
"You cannot enter the operating room. You may wait here."
I nodded and headed down the hallway to the benches. My limp was worse now. The cold had settled deep into the injured parts. A cleaner stared at the red prints I left behind and gave me a deathly stare.
"Very sorry," I said.
I reached the doors of the surgery wing and sat on a bench. My foot started throbbing harder now that I had stopped moving. I loosened my boot, saw blood pooling and bandaged it as tightly as I could. I leaned back and let my eyes close for a second, listening.
No alarms. No shouting. It soothed something in me.
But what if they harvest her organs? I can't rule that out.
What if I rush in, even if they took my guns? That's stupid. In this condition I will die even before reaching the front door.
Can I hack them? Scanning the stoic security guard I notice that he does have very exploitable cyberware, but the gun he has on him is non transferrable, meaning that I cannot use it.
I try working but my concentration is wavering and I have to focus on breathing carefully in slow inhales and exhales.
Fuck all this. I will win, I will win, I will win.
Ninety-seven minutes dragged by like days. My foot throbs, my ribs stab, my back burns. I hit tiny microdoses of my last meddoc to stay conscious. All I could think is going back from trying to think that something went wrong and that everything is fine.
There was always a possibility of Biotechnica tracing us, we are not far at all.
The door slides open. Doctors wheel Sasha out on a stretcher.
"Pay your bill at the counter, tips appreciated" the lead doctor says flatly. A woman clad in bionic augments.
"Is she fine?"
"The patient was stabilised." the doctor said plainly as she was removing her gloves.
I let out a sigh of relief. The doctor goes off in different directions and nurses continue to push the stretcher down the corridors. I follow them, until they tell me to wait right before a room.
Minutes pass, and only then I'm allowed inside.
I step into the room. It is minimalist, chrome and clean, with the distinct smell of a sterilized hospital.
Behind a matte glass divider I see other beds of other neighboring rooms. Sasha lies on her stomach, blanket over her, naked underneath for treatment access.
Her vitals are steady on the nearby monitors, but she is hooked to equipment I have no even clue about, besides the blood bags. I watch her back rise and fall with each breath.
"Sasha?" No response.
I round the bed to see her face. She looks peacefully asleep.
I stay a few minutes, then realize she will be out for a while.
She clearly could not walk after getting shot. Nerve damage? Broken spine? Shock?
No clue. But at least she is stable. Chromed out huh? Where is your ballistic weave?
She did have insane agility, but how can one dodge bullets without looking?
I really wonder what was so important about dying for this particular thing. But she really did have a way out ready.
The bike was a plant most likely.
I decided to leave her a holo message summarizing what happened and saying everything is handled.
I then quietly return to the reception.
"Your total is 1080, it will be deducted from your deposit. Staying at this facility will accumulate a pay of 500 eurodollars per day not including additional expenses if those will be issued." she says like she is reciting the weather.
I pay an additional 80 just to be safe, so that if she is here for 2 days she will at least be safe.
My brain is too cooked to handle anything else. The security guard hands me my guns back after requesting them and dispenses them from a similar hidden chute compartment in the wall.
Rain hits the massive windows outside in sheets. The city looks blurry behind it. I think about calling Maine, but all I have is Rebecca's number. I sent a short message.
"Sasha is alive and relatively well, I've attached the deets."
I attached the floor, room number, and hospital name. It hangs on delivery. Figures. They probably have bigger issues going on, considering how biotechnica rampages across the whole district trying to find both us and them.
I walk outside and call Delamain. My meddoc is almost empty now, maybe one dose worth. I squeeze the cartridge until the last bit hits. My body tries to shut down again but the drug holds me up just enough. Not going to repeat last time.
When the taxi rolls up, its doors slide open and warm air spills out. I climb in and try not to move too much.
The city is half dead from the rain. Only a few cars out. Neon reflected everywhere. Delamain scans me unprompted.
"My sensors detect injuries. Would you like assistance rerouting to a medical center?"
"No."
"Understood."
There is a brief hiccup in the voice output, like it lagged for a fraction. It makes my skin crawl for no reason. I keep an eye on the driver display just in case it tries anything weird, but it sticks to its lane and keeps driving.
We hit Little China. Roads are slick. Steam vents mix with the rainfall. Standard night, but way less people are outside.
I step out in front of Vik's place. The walk up the stairs is slow. Every step shakes something inside my ribs that should not be shaking.
I push open the door.
Vik is asleep at his desk with his head propped on his arm. Looks like he passed out mid-work. Classic.
He cracks an eye open when the door bumps his chair. "Who else?"
"I have a really good reason this time."
"What now."
I point at my foot and side. The whole situation.
He stares for a second then rubs his face. "Sit down. Carefully."
"I actually cannot pay this time-."
"Sit. Down."
I do. My body immediately regrets it.
The moment I sit, my vision tilts sideways. A wave of heaviness rolls through me like my whole body wants to pull itself through the floor. I grip the chair but my hands barely listen.
Everything dims around the edges. I see Vik standing up fast but it looks distant.
My head drops forward and I try to force it up but my neck refuses. My eyes roll back before I can stop it.
The last thing I catch is Vik lunging toward me, shouting something muffled.
I am standing near an octagon cage, leaning on the chain link. The crowd noise hits from everywhere at once. People yell, clap, whistle. My coach is over my shoulder, talking nonstop. I cannot make out the words but the tone is the same as always before a fight.
Friends tap my shoulders, say the usual pre fight nonsense to pump me up. Someone pats the back of my head. I look down and see gloves on my hands, I prepared for this for years.
The fight starts in flashes. First round, second, maybe third. Hard to tell. Everything cuts and jumps like someone edited it too aggressively. I know I am trading hits. My arms burn. My legs feel heavy. My mouthguard tastes metallic.
My opponent looks like a person but the face keeps blurring out in the lights. Every time I get close, it flickers in and out.
I trained to dodge his leg kicks, its fine.
The reality stutters like it is skipping frames.
Suddenly it all speeds up. Movements turn jerky. Colors smear. My body starts feeling like it is caving inward. I cannot hold onto anything. No footing. No control. Like a hole opens under my thoughts and pulls them down.
Everything collapses in on itself.
I wake with a sharp intake of breath. Vik is over me, adjusting IV lines, holding a syringe in one hand. "What the…" I croak, my voice weak.
My chest aches with every shallow breath. Vik doesn't answer right away, just stares at me with the most serious of stares.
"Kid, you were braindead a minute ago," he says finally, dragging a hand down his face.
"What?" I croak again, struggling to push myself upright. "I… I don't—"
Vik rubs his eyes. "You are the most problematic patient I have ever had." His tone is dry, but there's something under it. Concern, maybe frustration, maybe both. I swallow.
"I assume… you fixed it?"
Vik gives a tired smirk. "I am a professional." He taps a datapad on the side table. I glance at it, and my stomach drops. Total flatline across every neural channel. Sixteen hours have passed since I last checked. Afternoon now.
"I don't get it," I mutter. "Did you not see the same glitch last time?"
"Not a glitch. I troubleshot everything. I watched it happen. Small spike and then a sudden drop." His voice is calm, precise. I reach toward my head reflexively, but he stops me. "Do not move. The bone glue polymer in your back has not fully solidified."
I glance down at the synth blood IVs, the nutrient gel pooling slightly at my wrists, and then my foot. Bandaged, swollen, still throbbing. I wince.
Vik watches me and says quietly, "There was nothing to save. I cut off the remains of those two toes. For now, rest. You can buy new shoes later."
I recline back in the chair, trying to process. "How long do I stay here?"
"A few weeks for full rib healing. But some movement in a day or so."
"A day?" My voice cracks.
"Take the time to sleep normally. I am monitoring your brain next time you sleep. If it is equipment failure, we will see."
"Thank you, Vik." My voice is flat. I lie back and let my eyes wander to the window. The rain has stopped. Outside, the streets glisten faintly under pale sun reflections.
"I truly hope you had a good reason for whatever caused this."
"I hoped to do nothing yesterday."
"Sure," he muttered. He leaves the room. Silence hangs. I lie back, checking the news feed. A scandal broke out as Biotechnica was exposed to sell a drug with a side effect of neural degeneration, and they refused to stop selling it even knowing it. Sasha did this as I recall.
Is this personal? This doesn't add up as the thing they were supposed to do at this gig. It seems like a huge scandal.
My messages ping. Unknown sender: I owe you. Probably Maine. I think about sending the bill for him to compensate me, then decide against it. Let things settle.
I stand up, testing my body carefully. No twist, no strain on ribs. IV lines dangle from my arms. Something feels… off.
I shift into a stance, testing balance. Boxing. Taekwondo. Movements flow unnaturally clean, sharp. No hesitation. No mistake. My brain registers it, but my body isn't supposed to know this without training.
"Okay, this is some bullshit. What are those." I jab the air. Each hit is crisp, precise. I groan and slump back into the chair.
I check my internal systems, logic fails. Nothing explains this. Training chip effects without a chip? Someone else must have done something. Vik would never experiment on me.
I don't like it. Even if it's positive. I don't have a clue what is happening, I have no Johnny Silverhand around me.
Sitting back on the chair I felt myself still tired and in pain.
I drift toward sleep again as I still feel tired. Consciousness slides downward, slow, heavy. Edges blur, my sense of self loosens. I feel myself dissolving, falling, slipping into nothing before the drop.
Another-
I walk through a hospital as a doctor. I check patients, speak calmly, and review sutures.
"Oh, Doctor! Good morning."
"Morning. Are the kids visiting today?"
"Oh, no. They have… what do you call it? The school trip."
"That's good. How are you feeling?"
"I feel like a new man. Is the discharge soon?"
"We'll see. That depends on how well your antibodies-"
Catch my reflection in a glass door. Older. Much older. What am I, 50?
"Why am I so old? This is not…" The thought breaks as alarms howl.
"Doctor?!"
I jolt awake. Vik sits near the monitors, watching readings return to baseline. My breath is chaotic as I struggle to comprehend the dream. LSD? Or maybe even salvia?
"It is not the drugs," he says.
"Fuuuuuuuuck." I run a hand over my face.
"I feel the same way, kid," he admits quietly.
"I had another dream. I was someone else. Not lucid, but it was like I was a completely different person. I was behind his eyes but still him somehow."
Vik answers, "We know that is not schizophrenia or any other mental illness."
"Shizophrenia doesn't cause your brain to switch off? It's abnormal brain activity, isn't it?"
"Yeah. That's exactly why."
"What about the rest of my body? Are there any side effects?"
"Aside from being dead, your other vitals were not unstable at all. Neurologically it doesn't make sense."
"Vik, how much does it take to put my vital organs in a jar and build a robotic body that acts as my proxy?"
Vik raises his eyebrows.
"Measures like that still don't fix whatever happens to your brain. Especially the almost flatlining part."
"Then what? What is left for me? How do you at least not get worse?"
"Relax. We'll find the solution. Did you think about going to France for that clinic? Truthfully, they get a better shot than me."
"Can they make a scan of a brain and produce a copy of my consciousness within a storage device? Isn't this similar?"
"Things like that don't exist. You are not connected to any external device."
"Maybe for now. I'm sorry for getting angry."
"Hey, Caelen. All I have to say is that you better have that anger in the next spar against Jackie. The man really liked sparring with you."
"Come on Vik! He probably has half his muscles replaced.."
"All natural."
"No. Bullshit."
"I'm his doctor. He has good genes."
"That doesn't explain how he can throw me around. The logic doesn't add up."
"Have you seen yourself? You need to eat some proper food."
I look down my body and see that even if I had some muscle, from what I have been when I appeared in this world I lost tens of pounds and my ribs were showing.
"I'm eating all the time. I just did not find food that is both nutritious and cheap."
Vik taps on the IV bag of a nutrient that almost ran out.
"These things are really a bare minimum. Want something to eat? I can write you a list of things you can eat and get your fill later."
"Yeah, man. Your treat?"
"Not with that attitude." Vik smirks.