wasn’t any. It had taken six days on special order just to get my little bar of the stuff. No one else would have it lying around. So I had no choice.
I had to go home.
I rode straight back to my place, right through the middle of town just as rush hour was starting, so there were a lot of bikes and more than a handful of cars clogging up the roads. I tried to ignore the funny looks that my black, glowing scooter was getting, and hurried around the pedal-pushers to get off the main streets and into my neighborhood. And then there I was, staring up at my building, wondering just how stupid I really was.
Let’s find out.
I walked in the front door and headed up the stairs. The walls were still all torn up from my escape yesterday, but it was mostly just broken plaster and drywall, and a few broken boards, and I got up to the fourth floor with no trouble.
The hallway looked clear. No men in suits. No deadlock on my door. I swiped my key and went inside.
Everything looked fine. No mess, nothing broken, no homeless people squatting, no secret agents with guns drawn. Nothing. I went around and looked in the kitchen and bedroom. Still nothing.
I grabbed my old backpack and started throwing things into it. Clothes, toothbrush, noodles, a tablet, and a bottle of water. When I figured I had everything I needed, I went back to the living room, and that’s when I saw it. The camera. It was small, really small, just a little off-white bump on the wall, jammed right into the corner. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I had spent countless hours staring at these walls, waiting for a certain feedstock delivery, I probably never would have noticed the new bump there.
I waved and smiled. Who cared if they saw me? We both knew it was my apartment.
And that’s what I looked down and saw the real problem.
My printer was gone.
I don’t know how I missed that when I came in. It had been sitting in the corner of the living room, a big white box with a checkered tablecloth and a lamp on top of it so it wouldn’t look so boring. The cloth and lamp were now on the floor.
I looked around the room, as if I had just accidentally misplaced the largest appliance I owned.
Nope, definitely gone.
And the feedstock with it.
Cygnus. They stole my printer. They stole my stock.
I just stood there like an idiot. No printer meant no rubidium. No rubidium meant no new gloves. No gloves meant no deal with Susquehanna.
If only I had grabbed the rubidium rod out of the machine when I grabbed the gloves. If only, if only…
So that’s it. I’m screwed. It’s all over, just like that. Come on, think…
I kept standing there, waiting for an idea, waiting for a solution. I looked up at the ceiling, stretching my back, closing my eyes, holding my breath.
I heard a hiss.
It was so faint I almost missed it, but no, it was definitely a long steady hiss coming very softly from the heat vent at the edge of the ceiling.
Gas!
I ran out into the hallway, already feeling a bit dizzy and tired, a bit unfocused, so I covered my mouth and nose with my hand as I ran and tried not to breathe. By the time I reached the back alley of the building, I was definitely feeling ready to take a nap. I could barely keep my eyes open. But I forced myself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, breathing in the warm, dirty air of the city, keeping my heart pounding away.
I stumbled along for four blocks before I gave up and sat down on an overturned recycling bin. I was so close to going to sleep. So close. I blinked hard and almost didn’t open my eyes at all.
I swallowed. Part of my brain was still working fine, still thinking clearly, but it was trapped inside a body that was hell-bent on passing out.
Those bastards, they booby-trapped my home! They tried to gas me!
I swallowed again.
Need to think. Need to stay awake.
My hand slowly pulled out my phone and I struggled to focus on the screen.
Game. Starflash, level 44.
I started to play. I’d
I had to go home.
I rode straight back to my place, right through the middle of town just as rush hour was starting, so there were a lot of bikes and more than a handful of cars clogging up the roads. I tried to ignore the funny looks that my black, glowing scooter was getting, and hurried around the pedal-pushers to get off the main streets and into my neighborhood. And then there I was, staring up at my building, wondering just how stupid I really was.
Let’s find out.
I walked in the front door and headed up the stairs. The walls were still all torn up from my escape yesterday, but it was mostly just broken plaster and drywall, and a few broken boards, and I got up to the fourth floor with no trouble.
The hallway looked clear. No men in suits. No deadlock on my door. I swiped my key and went inside.
Everything looked fine. No mess, nothing broken, no homeless people squatting, no secret agents with guns drawn. Nothing. I went around and looked in the kitchen and bedroom. Still nothing.
I grabbed my old backpack and started throwing things into it. Clothes, toothbrush, noodles, a tablet, and a bottle of water. When I figured I had everything I needed, I went back to the living room, and that’s when I saw it. The camera. It was small, really small, just a little off-white bump on the wall, jammed right into the corner. And if it wasn’t for the fact that I had spent countless hours staring at these walls, waiting for a certain feedstock delivery, I probably never would have noticed the new bump there.
I waved and smiled. Who cared if they saw me? We both knew it was my apartment.
And that’s what I looked down and saw the real problem.
My printer was gone.
I don’t know how I missed that when I came in. It had been sitting in the corner of the living room, a big white box with a checkered tablecloth and a lamp on top of it so it wouldn’t look so boring. The cloth and lamp were now on the floor.
I looked around the room, as if I had just accidentally misplaced the largest appliance I owned.
Nope, definitely gone.
And the feedstock with it.
Cygnus. They stole my printer. They stole my stock.
I just stood there like an idiot. No printer meant no rubidium. No rubidium meant no new gloves. No gloves meant no deal with Susquehanna.
If only I had grabbed the rubidium rod out of the machine when I grabbed the gloves. If only, if only…
So that’s it. I’m screwed. It’s all over, just like that. Come on, think…
I kept standing there, waiting for an idea, waiting for a solution. I looked up at the ceiling, stretching my back, closing my eyes, holding my breath.
I heard a hiss.
It was so faint I almost missed it, but no, it was definitely a long steady hiss coming very softly from the heat vent at the edge of the ceiling.
Gas!
I ran out into the hallway, already feeling a bit dizzy and tired, a bit unfocused, so I covered my mouth and nose with my hand as I ran and tried not to breathe. By the time I reached the back alley of the building, I was definitely feeling ready to take a nap. I could barely keep my eyes open. But I forced myself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, breathing in the warm, dirty air of the city, keeping my heart pounding away.
I stumbled along for four blocks before I gave up and sat down on an overturned recycling bin. I was so close to going to sleep. So close. I blinked hard and almost didn’t open my eyes at all.
I swallowed. Part of my brain was still working fine, still thinking clearly, but it was trapped inside a body that was hell-bent on passing out.
Those bastards, they booby-trapped my home! They tried to gas me!
I swallowed again.
Need to think. Need to stay awake.
My hand slowly pulled out my phone and I struggled to focus on the screen.
Game. Starflash, level 44.
I started to play. I’d
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