Read Chapter One

‘It’s not like we have many options left,’ Hiro said through clenched teeth. He leaned against the wall and immediately regretted it when he felt the cold mould-slime squish under his shoulder with a slurp. He fought the urge to recoil, forcing himself to stay pressed against the slime. It made his skin crawl, but he refused to show Diego any sign of discomfort. He maintained a defiant, sarcastic stare and said, ‘Feel free to walk out there. But don’t blame me when that droid zaps the living hell out of you.’

The mouldy smell filled Diego’s nostrils, fuelling his rising irritation. ‘That’s exactly what you’re asking me to do, you bastard,’ he replied without missing a beat.

Hiro rolled his eyes. ‘No, I’m asking you to create a distraction.’

Diego’s lips curled into a smirk. ‘Why do I have to be the bait again? We could use the—’

‘Stop it!’ Hiro interrupted mid-sentence. ‘Can’t you see? We’re cornered. You can be melodramatic all you want if we get out of this mess. But for now, please focus.’

The dim, grimy light seeping through the battered windows of the abandoned skyscraper barely illuminated Diego’s face. But Hiro didn’t need light. He knew his friend’s expression was tight and his jaw muscles were clenched with anger—a sure sign he was furious.

Hiro had been bottling up his simmering frustration with their less-than-ideal situation. They were trapped on the 76th floor of a crumbling building. Every so often, he caught himself wrinkling his nose. The thick, stale stench of rot and rust clawed at his throat like a physical manifestation of their awful circumstances. He had already considered all their escape options, even leaping out of a window. A fall from this height was a guaranteed one-way ticket to the afterlife, but to Hiro, it seemed only slightly worse than getting zapped by the Eyeball.

CerebroNet had installed zappers in its countless hover droids, nicknamed Eyeballs for their spherical shape and the technical designation EYE2-C. The zapper, a notorious energy weapon, was reputed to be an instrument of torture. Designed as a deterrent, it inflicted agonising pain without killing its targets.

Even a random mention of zapping sent shivers running down people’s spines. Everyone had seen its victims contorted in agony as a zap surged through them with a burst of bright, crackling energy. Their tormented bodies clenched and unclenched in persistent seizures. Their skin morphed into a ghastly, shifting marble pattern caused by the veins snaking underneath it. Their eyes rotated upwards into their heads, and their tongues stuck out. Once the convulsing subsided, the victims found themselves suspended between life and death. Their hands and legs curled in unnatural positions, enduring shredded muscles, torn ligaments, and ruptured tendons. The recovery process was a long, arduous journey, both physically and mentally.

Diego knew full well that the Eyeball would easily turn his own body against him, reducing him to a grotesque monument to CerebroNet’s power. So he held back his biting retorts. Panting, he hunched in the corner of the decomposing office space. Diego’s silence was uncharacteristic. Usually, he would counter Hiro’s provocations, but now, there were two good reasons not to. The first was spite. The second was fear.

Hiro’s chest tightened with guilt as he sensed Diego’s anxiety. They were like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly, having known each other inside-out from a young age. He exhaled, breaking the monotonous hum of the Eyeball in the next room. ‘I know I messed up,’ Hiro said, trying to steady his voice to conceal his panic. ‘And I’m sorry for dragging you into this. But right now, I need you to keep a level head and help us escape this trap. I can’t do it without you. We’ve been in tighter spots. We’ll figure a way out of this one too.’

Diego stayed silent.

They had spent countless hours hunting CerebroNet droids and dodging their retaliation. This time, however, something unsettling distinguished their present circumstances from past encounters. This particular droid was behaving weirdly, forcing Hiro’s brain to sizzle like an overclocked processor. The Eyeball’s intentions eluded him, leaving him feeling vulnerable.

The Eyeball, its metal-alloy body glistening in the dim light, had stopped its pursuit and was acting completely out of character. Rather than zapping them, it held its position. The machine repeatedly scanned the room, the faint hum of its instruments and the subtle odour of ozone filling the space. It seemed to be adopting a protective stance at the exit.

Never before had a CerebroNet droid hesitated to zap unaugmented humans, with or without a reason. Hiro’s heart was pounding, but he didn’t want Diego to know he was afraid, too. So, to lighten the tense atmosphere, he added, ‘Besides, the last time I listened to you, we ended up swimming through a lake of shit.’

‘It wasn’t shit, asshole!’ Diego snapped.

Despite their uncertain situation, Hiro’s eyes twinkled with delight. He chuckled. He loved winding Diego up.

Hiro’s mischievous giggle gave it away, and Diego stared at him, understanding he was being teased. ‘Sometimes, I really hate you.’

Hiro’s smile widened. ‘Nah, you’re just mad because you love me.’

Diego’s fleeting grin morphed into a grimace as he turned serious again. He knew Hiro like the back of his hand, so he always became nervous when Hiro tried to hide his fear with motivational speeches or humour. When Diego was anxious, he talked. In this particular situation, an avalanche of questions barrelled through his head. In response to the teasing, he unleashed them on Hiro. ‘Is it still out there? Do you think it trapped us on purpose? It knows we’re here, right? Why isn’t it zapping us?’

Hiro shrugged. Ignoring the torrent of questions, he tiptoed to the opening in the wall and stole a glance at the lurking machine. Despite the threat, Hiro paused to study the Eyeball. As usual, the droid’s gravity-assist engine allowed it to defy the laws of physics. It exuded an air of magic as it hovered in place with an elegance that belied its ability to wreak havoc. But this Eyeball’s appearance was distinct. It lacked the flashing yellow lights that normally dotted their circular form. Instead, its elliptical body gleamed with an odd, swirling blue glow that reflected off the shiny alloy surface.

As a member of the Technophobe community, Hiro knew little about digital technology. But he had to rely on his ability to predict the next move of the machines. It was important for two reasons: his survival and the ability to make a living from hunting them. Over time, he had become efficient in deciphering Eyeball behaviour.

At first, in response to the growing unrest, London’s government deployed CerebroNet Corporation’s hover-droids to intensify surveillance on citizens who rejected ID implants and consequently lost their right to government aid. As hunger and chaos, exacerbated by devastating weather, tore through the city, it fractured, splitting into two parts. The police force crumbled under the tidal wave of riots and raids on water filtration facilities and food production domes. It was then that upgraded Eyeballs replaced the police, becoming autonomous law enforcement agents. Thousands of them patrolled New London and Old Town, reporting directly to CerebroNet’s core AI. But as the situation worsened, the next upgrade equipped each Eyeball with the distinctive blinking yellow lights and a zapper, with the authority to use the weapon on any human at its digital will.

This upgrade solidified the divide between the two parts of London. Hiro and Diego, like all Technophobe outcasts in the ruins of the forsaken Old Town, rejected government control. They refused to accept the mandatory subdermal ID implants. Instead, they relied on analogue devices to fake IDs without implanting anything. It was the highest crime but a necessary trick to avoid being zapped on sight. Hiro and Diego would often lurk close to the New London border, provoking and luring Eyeballs into their traps.

The guys had encountered a dazzling array of advanced tech in New London. They had seen cargo bots, augmented humans, intelligent transport, and more. Yet, only the Eyeballs used gravity-assist engines. CerebroNet Corporation kept its technology secret, even from the government of New London. Hiro and Diego were the rare few, if not the only ones, who could capture Eyeballs, extract the engine, and live to tell the tale. This skill marked them as quasi-celebrities among their community of Technophobes. These exiles rejected everything digital, including any surveillance or implantations. However, for them, fame was not the prize.

The Eyeballs had organic components within their gravity-assist engines that Cybergangs used to cook a potent drug called Leviathan. Named after the mythological sea monster, Leviathan wielded an astonishing effect. Upon ingestion, it manipulated the user’s neurochemical composition, inducing a unique state of altered consciousness. Users reported sensations of travelling through parallel worlds. Leviathan also warped temporal perception, causing time to stretch during the euphoric high, while only a few minutes may have elapsed in reality. These intense experiences made Leviathan highly addictive and extremely sought after in New London as much as in Old Town. The Cybergangs paid a steep price for these organic parts. This compensated for the risk Hiro and Diego took and allowed them to repay Mr Fassal. In return, he provided them with spoofed IDs, water, food, and a roof over their heads.

Over countless confrontations with the Eyeballs, this was the first time Hiro had encountered one emitting the mesmerising bluish glow. As he watched the droid, their potential ways out faded further into a mere mirage. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing away the promise of escape. Hiro sensed the inevitability of capture tightening its hold around him. He had expected pursuit, skirmishes, and a chase across the Old Town. But not to be trapped like a rat in a derelict skyscraper. The sense of captivity nibbled at Hiro’s pride, making him clench his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white and felt close to bursting.

Hiro quivered and snapped back to the present, realising that he had lost track of time, with his thoughts drifting as if he were high on Leviathan. The experience felt like being hypnotised by a predator. The deceitful yet hypnotic glow lured him deeper into an ambush. It enchanted him and drew him into an inevitable trap.

Diego released a slow, measured sigh as he watched Hiro’s exasperation escalate. He was well aware of the ugly reality of their situation. Not only did they need to escape the trap unharmed, but they also had to catch their captor. Their recent string of unsuccessful hunts had left them behind on their payments to Mr Fassal.

Finally, Diego responded, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘All right,’ he said, making air quotes, ‘let’s hear your “genius” plan then.’

The plan was straightforward. It relied on coordination and precise timing. Hiro intended to disrupt the gravitational field that allowed Eyeballs to hover. Success depended on sabotaging the droid. Diego would jump into the adjoining room, shooting mid-leap to anger it and draw its attention away from Hiro. After Diego had taken cover, rolling to the side behind the mound left by the fallen ceiling, Hiro would fire an EMP net, grounding the droid and confusing its sensors. This would provide Diego with a chance to short the Eyeball with a capacitor. If timed well, they could immobilise the machine. But one mistimed move could get them zapped.

‘You don’t need to hit the bastard. It just needs to register that it’s being attacked. I’ll shoot the net and send the pulse when it goes after you,’ explained Hiro.

Diego contemplated the details of the proposal. His face knotted as he turned over the steps in his mind. ‘What a grand plan. If I don’t get zapped, I’ll break my fucking neck performing these acrobatics.’

Hiro struck his forehead with his palm. ‘Don’t start again!’

‘Who’s the drama queen now?’ Despite his initial objection, Diego readied himself. He assessed their surroundings and stretched his limbs in preparation for the jump. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ he muttered, then glanced at Hiro. ‘You ready?’

‘Ready when you are,’ Hiro replied, his finger twitching on the EMP net launcher’s trigger.

Diego took a deep breath and positioned himself at the room’s entrance. His heart pounded a relentless rhythm. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he checked his makeshift gun. ‘On three,’ he announced, stealing another glance at Hiro. He stepped back, sensing an adrenaline rush as he prepared to leap. Gathering energy from every fibre of his being, he started the countdown. ‘One… Two… Three!’

Diego lunged forward. His heart pounded in his ears as he glided through the air. Then his body swivelled mid-jump. His muscles fired with determination, adjusting his trajectory by twisting in freefall with feline fluidity. Simultaneously, his sweat-slicked finger tightened on the weapon’s cold trigger. The muzzle flared, spitting a vicious barrage of bullets towards the Eyeball. The gun’s mechanical snarl echoed through the room, the shots bouncing off the exposed steel beams and walls. Diego saw the debris falling around him as he heard the bullets impacting the Eyeball, etching a mark of defiance on it with an echoing metallic thud.

The skyscraper’s scattered remnants—fragments of glass, contorted metal, and chunks of concrete—presented a dangerous problem for Diego’s landing. His hand slid on the debris as he executed the side roll. With a surprised, pained grunt, his world spiralled into chaos. His body tumbled forward, smashing headfirst into a hunk of collapsed ceiling. The sudden blow jarred his senses, and a shockwave of pain exploded through his spine as a warm, metallic taste filled his mouth. The breath was knocked out of his chest by the impact on his lungs, leaving him gasping like a fish floundering on dry land. His pulse roared in his ears, and his vision blurred as he blinked back the tears pooling in his eyes. Even in the rapidly worsening situation, Diego knew it would feel infinitely worse if the Eyeball zapped him. He wanted to push through the all-consuming pain to find cover. But at that moment, splayed on the cold floor, he could only gasp for air.

The Eyeball darted across the room. The uneven beams of setting sunlight danced off its shiny exterior, giving the impression that it was dashing through a rain of silver shards. Like a wounded beast, the droid emitted a distressed electronic cacophony of digital whistles and clicks as it manoeuvred through the mounds of debris.

The unfolding scene spiked Hiro’s adrenaline. He seized the opportunity presented by the droid’s focus on Diego. Despite the evolving chaos, he aimed the EMP net launcher at the erratic Eyeball. He fired. The net sprang from the launcher, spreading out like a spider’s web, expanding in a cascade of thin tendrils enveloping their captor. But the machine countered just before he could activate the EMP charge.

Entangled within the net and resembling an out-of-control gyroscope, the Eyeball began a maddening spin. It yanked the EMP trigger out of Hiro’s hand. Its desperate attempt to break free transformed into a blur of motion. Flakes of rust, mould, and dust swirled around it in a chaotic dance of decay.

The net broke off, and the droid froze in place. For a fleeting moment, everything seemed suspended in an ethereal stillness, as if the old skyscraper was holding its breath. The dust particles, caught by the late afternoon sunlight, began their gentle descent. Swirling in a tranquil motion, they settled around the Eyeball in a silent ballet.

A few rapid electronic clicks cut through the peaceful scene. Then an intolerable, high-pitched noise filled the room. Glass in the frail skyscraper’s skeletal window frames trembled and cracked under the onslaught. The air itself seemed to disintegrate. The deafening sound wave sliced through Hiro and Diego like a scalpel through flesh. They both collapsed, clutching their ears. The barrage of pure noise hammered their eardrums, resonated in their bones, and wrapped every nerve ending in anguish.

Hiro forced himself to open his eyes. He couldn’t see through the ripples in his tears caused by the vibration. He forced himself to remove his hands from his ears to wipe them away. As he focused his brown eyes, he saw Diego screaming and rolling side-to-side, covering his ears in a futile attempt to block out the assault of the Eyeball’s acoustic weapon. The droid was hovering just a few steps from Diego. Hiro’s mind raced. Diego’s life depended on him. He needed to shut down the machine. But the Eyeball’s sonic blast left him feeling like a sack of aching meat filled with vibrating bones. He could barely move, let alone devise a plan and execute it.

In a desperate, last-ditch effort, Hiro grabbed a rusted rebar from the debris. Wincing, he pushed himself up. With a primal, adrenaline-fuelled yell, he thrust the makeshift spear through the Eyeball, pinning it to the wall with the full force of his body weight.

Silence enveloped the room.

Diego didn’t know how much time had passed before the ringing in his ears began to subside. When his hearing returned, he recognised Hiro’s moans. He turned towards the sound and saw his friend rocking back and forth on the floor, holding his shoulder. Forcing himself to overcome the disorientation, Diego scrambled through the debris. Panic overtook him at the sight of his friend’s anguished grimace. ‘Hiro… Hiro,’ he gasped in a hoarse voice as he examined Hiro’s injuries.

The rebar’s texture had baked into Hiro’s charred palm. His arm and shoulder were limp from the runaway energy that had surged through the rebar as it pierced through the Eyeball.

Diego cradled Hiro’s head, resting it in his lap to comfort himself as much as his friend. Hiro’s face was white as bone, beaded with droplets of sweat. Diego blinked fiercely to clear the tears from his eyes and pleaded in a cracking voice, ‘Please. Talk to me!’

Fighting for words, Hiro croaked, ‘Got shocked through the stick when I killed the bitch.’ He struggled to prop himself up. ‘I don’t feel my shoulder and arm.’

Diego’s forehead creased with worry. ‘Shit, shit, shit…’ he muttered as he examined Hiro’s shoulder, probing for additional wounds.

‘Ouch! Stop it, asshole,’ Hiro shouted, his face twisting with annoyance. ‘It hurts.’

Diego’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened. ‘So, you can feel your shoulder. That’s good!’

‘I’m lucky it was rusted. My head’s still aching, but I think I’ll be all right. How are you?’

Diego exhaled. ‘Not much better than you, to be honest,’ he admitted. His expression grew serious. ‘What the hell was that sound? An acoustic weapon?’

Hiro’s gaze bore into the neutralised Eyeball as though attempting to see through it. ‘I have no idea,’ he rumbled in a low growl. ‘But I’m glad it’s toast.’

Pinned to the wall by the rebar, the Eyeball resembled a giant lollipop. Skewered through its core, its once frightening frame oozed a fluorescent-green liquid. The thick substance slid down the droid’s surface. Each droplet fell with a faint, echoing plink as it hit the floor.

‘Look, the goo’s leaking. I think its engine is gone. We can’t sell it,’ Hiro said.

Diego took a moment to appreciate the pitiful state of the once formidable enemy. ‘Mr Fassal won’t be happy with us again. What do we do wi—’

‘Click click clickclick…’ a sequence of electronic clicks interrupted Diego.

The guys froze. Fear seized them, sending a tide of goosebumps over their bodies. Their pain and discomfort faded into insignificance. Wide-eyed, they stared at the Eyeball.

The faint blue glow reappeared, forming a uniform pattern around the droid. The gravity-assist engine reactivated with a wheezing sound.

Hiro and Diego began breathing in short, shallow gasps as, with growing horror, they watched the machine come back to life.

Firmly secured to the wall, the Eyeball made a series of desperate manoeuvres. It tried to jerk up, then down, and attempted a sideways wriggle, all in a frantic bid to dislodge itself. A moment of stillness passed as the droid rethought its approach and recalculated available options. It erupted in an outburst of digital screeches, clicks, and whistles understood only by its kind. Then, in a sudden, jolting twist, the Eyeball executed a full 360-degree rotation on the impaling rebar.

Hiro immediately understood the purpose behind this frantic manoeuvre. With each additional spin, the Eyeball moved away from the wall, inching closer to them to free itself from the rebar.

Hiro shouted, ‘Run!’

* * *

The air in their living quarters was filled with the sharp tang of sweat and the scent of blood and seared skin. Hiro lay in his worn-out bed, staring into nothingness. Diego sat on the floor in a corner, face cradled in his palms with elbows resting on his knees. Both were silent. But their thoughts buzzed with memories of their narrow escape.

Though not picturesque, the habitat comforted them with the warmth of home. Their dwelling was a cramped, shadow-laden chamber tucked away within the twisting arteries of the abandoned metro network. The tight space could barely accommodate them. Their every move often looked like an intricate, pre-planned manoeuvre to prevent mishaps amid their sparse belongings. They were delighted with the small quarters and even took pride in their ability to make the most of the small space.

Hiro and Diego’s friendship was more than just a bond. It was a lifeline built through the endurance of countless hardships. They faced the harsh realities of an orphanage as a team. Their shared experiences were the glue that held them together. But it was their audacious breakout that established their unbreakable connection. The escape transformed Hiro and Diego from mere friends to fighters bound by mutual dependence. In the unforgiving world outside, reliance on each other proved to be a successful survival strategy. Each victory and every averted disaster tightened the invisible cord that tethered them closer. Their shared preference for dark humour and relentless banter provided a healthy portion of fun. It became a beacon of normalcy in their outlawed existence.

In their dingy chamber, the guys grew into young men under the gruff yet protective supervision of Mr Fassal—the local Technophobe leader. His role, however, went beyond merely providing them with clean water and sustenance. Under his stern guidance, Hiro and Diego learned to adapt and thrive in the harsh world. Mr Fassal taught them the Technophobe creed. He shaped their juvenile minds into defiant resilience. He showed them how to find joy in simplicity—from weaving their own clothes to harvesting rainwater. The guys embraced a life of self-sufficiency that contrasted with the technology-saturated life outside their community.

Technophobe ideology had developed over two centuries. It stemmed from an anti-technology group known as the Silicon Sceptics. When silicon replaced germanium in chip transistors, the initial whispers of conspiracy theories grew into a full-fledged movement. Over the decades, these theories coalesced into a doctrine underpinned by neo-Luddite philosophy and anti-AI sentiment. Their strict reliance on only analogue technology earned them the title of Technophobes.

Climate catastrophe battered the world. It plunged people into a desperate struggle for clean water, food, and shelter. Governments leveraged digital ID implants to control distribution channels. This heavy-handed move ignited robust opposition from Technophobe leaders. They warned of the ethical dangers of such a rights-stripping system. What began as protest swelled into a tidal wave of public outrage.

As things worsened by the day, more people embraced Technophobism. The philosophy reached a fever pitch of popularity when New London turned to CerebroNet Corporation’s army of weaponised security robots. Practically overnight, Technophobism united most of the population under a single doctrine, often serving as a spiritual anchor.

In Hiro and Diego’s community, people rejected holograms, smart homes, AIs, and any robotics. Folks used rotary phones, typewriters, vinyl records, and old cathode ray tube televisions. The digital world held no allure. Technophobes perceived it as an enslaving, corrupting force, and a tool for manipulation. The tangible authenticity of analogue technology made it secure and reliable. Despite the resurgence of curable diseases due to a lack of medical equipment, Technophobes remained resolute. They cherished the tactile world, sustaining themselves on rodents, maggots, and fungal protein, unwavering in their commitment to their traditional way of life.

Hiro’s disdain for digital technology stemmed from Technophobe teachings, but his childhood experiences were the reason for his seething hatred of CerebroNet. He grew up fighting the constant cruelty of other orphans. The insults revolved around the story of Hiro, drenched in his mother’s blood, being pulled from the machine’s embrace. They called him Bot Baby because the machine didn’t want to release him until its deactivation. Rumours spread about his mother’s tragic death. She had worked for CerebroNet Corporation and was reportedly killed by a malfunctioning robot. The gruesome images and the relentless abuse etched themselves deep into Hiro’s consciousness.

Diego watched Hiro with concern. He understood all too well that today’s confrontation with CerebroNet’s droid had resurrected distant memories. Hiro’s anguished expression revealed intense emotional turmoil rather than physical pain from the injuries he’d endured from the encounter.

Diego retrieved some fresh rags and a bowl. He filled it with clean water. ‘Let me have a look,’ he offered.

Fighting the pain, Hiro took off his jacket and stretched his hand towards Diego. ‘Thank you.’

Diego crouched before him. His brow furrowed with concern as he removed dirt, burned skin, and congealed blood from Hiro’s palm. ‘What a fucked-up day. That droid scared the shit out of me.’

‘Yeah, judging by your smell, it did,’ Hiro said, prompting laughter from both of them.

‘You stink like shit, too, bro,’ Diego replied with a grin.

‘I can imagine. I also feel like shit,’ Hiro said, wincing.

With a knock on the door, Diego’s giggles faded away.

Hiro suppressed a growl and called out, ‘Come in!’

Mr Fassal squeezed his hulking frame into the small room, dominating the space with his commanding presence. Bushy, stern brows locked in a rigid furrow emphasised his silent authority. His deeply nested eyes projected seasoned wisdom and unwavering confidence. Wrinkles crisscrossed his face like an intricate road map—a mark of relentless perseverance through hardship and grit.

Mr Fassal’s piercing stare softened with flickers of concern when he looked upon the dirty faces and weary expressions of the two guys before him. ‘Evening, gents,’ he said, his voice filling the room like thunder. ‘You look rough.’

Hiro flicked a glance towards Diego, then dropped his gaze. ‘CerebroNet has a new model,’ he muttered with resignation.

An uncomfortable silence followed Hiro’s admission as Mr Fassal’s expression turned sour. The lines around his eyes deepened into canyons of disapproval. His annoyance was evident in his voice when he asked, ‘Now what?’

Hiro inhaled. He steadied his vocal cords and explained. ‘The new model has an acoustic crowd control weapon and seems to have also learned how to deal with our EMP nets.’

Mr Fassal said nothing, but his expression hardened, and he raised an eyebrow.

Hiro hesitated for a moment before continuing, ‘It’s a major setback for us.’

Mr Fassal’s shoulders slumped as he let out a deep, troubled sigh. He appeared to withdraw into himself. ‘When will this end?’ he murmured, more to himself. With a slight shake of his head, Mr Fassal returned to reality. He moved Diego’s filthy jacket aside and sat on the narrow bench. ‘Anyhow, back to business.’

Hiro and Diego grimaced, knowing what was coming.

‘We agreed that you would pay your rent today. Haven’t we?’

Diego and Hiro felt embarrassed. The routine had become too familiar.

Hiro hesitated, working up the courage to ask the question he had asked too often in the past months. ‘Can we please get an extension?’ he said, seeming more desperate than he intended.

Diego chimed in, also sounding desperate. ‘These new upgrades took us by surprise,’ he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. ‘CerebroNet played a real trick on us. It chased us into a trap.’

Mr Fassal’s gaze lingered on Diego’s tan skin, smeared with layers of dirt and blood, and his expression softened for a moment. His eyes flicked between the two young men. He recognised the worry and hope in their eyes, but he had responsibilities. His position as the leader wasn’t just a title. It was a job that entailed making hard decisions. So, despite the flicker of sympathy in his face, his resolve remained as steely as ever. ‘I sympathise, but you are three months behind. Thousands of folk are counting on me. Most have valid excuses for why they shouldn’t pay.’ His words were harsh, but his tone was regretful. ‘I’ve already given you special treatment. You have your way with the Eyeballs, which is very good for our people. But if you have nothing to show for your…’ he paused, searching for the right word, ‘celebrity status, I will have riots to deal with.’

Mr Fassal was dead serious. Their world was miserable, turning their community into a powder keg ready to ignite at the slightest perceived injustice. The difficulty of creating fake IDs using analogue technology exacerbated the situation. Its high cost rendered freedom of movement a luxury few could afford.

Diego attempted to inject some buoyancy into the grim atmosphere. ‘Thank you for being a wonderful and fair leader. We are all very grateful to you. We know the enormous amount of hard work you invest to ensure our well-being and protection.’ Diego inhaled and continued his plea. ‘Would it be possible to give us just a few more days? We need to recover and heal a bit. We’ll come up with a new strategy.’

A grin split Mr Fassal’s features as he leaned back with an air of self-satisfaction. ‘Ahh, flattery,’ he said, amusement lacing his words. ‘Never fails, does it?’ His gaze flitted between Hiro and Diego. He enjoyed the unease his response had provoked as he dismantled Diego’s feeble attempt at manipulation.

Diego’s face flushed a vivid red, and his lips formed a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as he grappled for a response. The words knotted themselves on his tongue, struggling to find their way out.

With a sigh, Mr Fassal decided on a compromise. ‘All right, I’ll give you two more weeks to settle your debt. But there’s a catch.’

Suspicion flared in Hiro’s eyes. ‘And what would it be?’

Mr Fassal leaned forward, his eyes locking on Hiro’s. ‘Help me out with a… small task. Consider it an opportunity to aid the entire Technophobe family.’

Hiro and Diego exchanged a curious glance.

‘How can we help you, Mr Fassal?’ Diego asked.

Mr Fassal grinned. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll host a very influential guest interested in discussing a potential alliance. Our visitor is looking for intelligent and capable people, and you two fit the bill. All I ask of you is to be charming hosts and represent our community, positioning us as a strong and reliable ally.’

Diego smiled. ‘We can do that!’

Hiro’s curiosity piqued. ‘And who is our influential visitor?’

‘Ms Mordwell,’ replied Mr Fassal.

Hiro’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened in disbelief.

‘The Mordwell? The bitch-queen of the augments?’ Diego spluttered, earning a sharp glance from Mr Fassal.

Mr Fassal pursed his lips. ‘Must you talk like this?’

‘She is the leading voice for bionic humanity. How can she be our ally?’ protested Hiro.

Mr Fassal’s tone held a firmness matching the unwavering gaze with which he met Hiro’s stare. ‘She adamantly opposes CerebroNet. And if we can convince her we are worth funding, we will gain a powerful partner in our fight against it.’

Hiro nodded, considering Mr Fassal’s words. He made his decision, tugged his boots off, climbed under the blanket, and announced matter-of-factly, ‘I am not going to meet that bitch.’

The bench scraped against the floor as Mr Fassal rose to his feet. With precise and deliberate movements that projected a calculated grace, he folded his arms across his chest. His face contorted into a scowl. He glared down at Hiro with a cold, hard stare and spoke in a low voice, enunciating each word with unmistakable clarity, ‘Well. Then you are both packing and leaving tonight.’