AIAs, but it was another to ensure the consistent running of the Dome’s various systems.
They were currently having a series of controlled brownouts during the night in order to fix the system. She hoped they’d sort it soon; she didn’t like the idea of the ronin lurking about the city in the dark, hiding from the security force’s patrol cars and drones.
It was nearly 20:00. The city grew dark outside the window of the thirty-third floor of the medical centre: a floor taken over by Jimmy for his various theatres.
Two rooms were dedicated to his personal work: his clones. Always the goddamned clones. Despite having her and Petal, he still focussed on those suspended broken ones as if they were all he wanted. As if she and Petal didn’t even exist.
Their relationship had developed a few fractures since the truth came out. Still, she certainly didn’t hold a grudge to the extent Petal did. She worried for her, for them both. They’d barely spoken since the battle. With Petal spending most of her time with Gabe and Enna, a divide had developed between them. Each day that passed made it harder to reach out. Petal had only come to the Dome twice in the last month, preferring to stay in Bachia.
Sasha knew she’d have to get in touch soon. Jess and Jimmy were taking Alpha to Bachia in the morning. Sasha would have gone, but the bullshit with Fuentes and the sniper meant she had to stay behind and deal with the fallout.
The journey to Fuentes’ meeting room took her twenty minutes by foot. The cool evening air soothed the wounds on her face and shoulder. ’Stem always made flesh wounds feel hot and itchy as those nanobots created new cells and stitched together proteins and biomaterial. She imagined there were thousands of tiny spiders crawling under her skin, spinning genetic silk.
Now that the evening shift was a couple of hours underway and the early shift were in their homes with their families, enjoying the new media entertainment channels on their holoscreens, the city took on a quiet hush. It reminded her of working late hours back at Criborg. A pang of sadness came over her as she thought about Vickers and the men she’d trained with for the previous five years.
These quiet periods brought an extra-sharp focus to how much she truly missed the times before coming to the surface. Considering how it all went down, she had to wonder if it was worth it.
Were these people here in the Dome worth saving from the Red Widows at the cost of Vickers and his men? Given how an increasingly large portion of the population were calling for the Widows’ release and the return of the network and the Family’s rule, she thought it might have been better to have left them to it. It seemed some people were beyond saving, while others didn’t want to be saved in the first place.
She stepped over the sleeping body of a drunken protestor at the steps to the president’s building. He clutched a ‘Find the Family, Free the Widows’ sign. She ‘accidentally’ kicked him in the ribs as she passed. So drunk, the guy didn’t even react. She reported him to the night patrol. If they could spare the resources, he’d spend the next few nights in the cells.
She moved away from the protestor and entered the building. She chose to take the stairs and took the steps two at a time, enjoying the feeling of exercise. She came to the main suite on the top floor and entered without knocking.
The various members of the interim government turned to stare at her. Jimmy was there, sitting rather close to Fuentes, whose jaw was set. She reminded Sasha of Vickers when he attempted to control an outburst.
Malik sat opposite them at the table and nearest to the door. He turned and gave her a reassuring smile. It didn’t help assuage her anxiety, or anger. How dare they call her in here like some criminal when her actions had stopped a sniper from running freely in the city. Not to mention the wounds she took in the process. Fuckers should
They were currently having a series of controlled brownouts during the night in order to fix the system. She hoped they’d sort it soon; she didn’t like the idea of the ronin lurking about the city in the dark, hiding from the security force’s patrol cars and drones.
It was nearly 20:00. The city grew dark outside the window of the thirty-third floor of the medical centre: a floor taken over by Jimmy for his various theatres.
Two rooms were dedicated to his personal work: his clones. Always the goddamned clones. Despite having her and Petal, he still focussed on those suspended broken ones as if they were all he wanted. As if she and Petal didn’t even exist.
Their relationship had developed a few fractures since the truth came out. Still, she certainly didn’t hold a grudge to the extent Petal did. She worried for her, for them both. They’d barely spoken since the battle. With Petal spending most of her time with Gabe and Enna, a divide had developed between them. Each day that passed made it harder to reach out. Petal had only come to the Dome twice in the last month, preferring to stay in Bachia.
Sasha knew she’d have to get in touch soon. Jess and Jimmy were taking Alpha to Bachia in the morning. Sasha would have gone, but the bullshit with Fuentes and the sniper meant she had to stay behind and deal with the fallout.
The journey to Fuentes’ meeting room took her twenty minutes by foot. The cool evening air soothed the wounds on her face and shoulder. ’Stem always made flesh wounds feel hot and itchy as those nanobots created new cells and stitched together proteins and biomaterial. She imagined there were thousands of tiny spiders crawling under her skin, spinning genetic silk.
Now that the evening shift was a couple of hours underway and the early shift were in their homes with their families, enjoying the new media entertainment channels on their holoscreens, the city took on a quiet hush. It reminded her of working late hours back at Criborg. A pang of sadness came over her as she thought about Vickers and the men she’d trained with for the previous five years.
These quiet periods brought an extra-sharp focus to how much she truly missed the times before coming to the surface. Considering how it all went down, she had to wonder if it was worth it.
Were these people here in the Dome worth saving from the Red Widows at the cost of Vickers and his men? Given how an increasingly large portion of the population were calling for the Widows’ release and the return of the network and the Family’s rule, she thought it might have been better to have left them to it. It seemed some people were beyond saving, while others didn’t want to be saved in the first place.
She stepped over the sleeping body of a drunken protestor at the steps to the president’s building. He clutched a ‘Find the Family, Free the Widows’ sign. She ‘accidentally’ kicked him in the ribs as she passed. So drunk, the guy didn’t even react. She reported him to the night patrol. If they could spare the resources, he’d spend the next few nights in the cells.
She moved away from the protestor and entered the building. She chose to take the stairs and took the steps two at a time, enjoying the feeling of exercise. She came to the main suite on the top floor and entered without knocking.
The various members of the interim government turned to stare at her. Jimmy was there, sitting rather close to Fuentes, whose jaw was set. She reminded Sasha of Vickers when he attempted to control an outburst.
Malik sat opposite them at the table and nearest to the door. He turned and gave her a reassuring smile. It didn’t help assuage her anxiety, or anger. How dare they call her in here like some criminal when her actions had stopped a sniper from running freely in the city. Not to mention the wounds she took in the process. Fuckers should
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