Warning

Against his own wishes, Sam extended a hand toward Carlos. “Hi.” He was a marionette now, operated by social mores. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Virginia and I relocated here together.” Carlos leaned forward to accept the handshake, but kept the gap between himself and Virginia as small as he could.

“We relocated at the same time,” Virginia clarified.

“Samir,” Carlos said, “you should know I was against your hire.”

“I appreciate you telling me.”

Sam thought he might tear Carlos limb from limb. But the environment of the staff bar wasn’t conducive to him behaving as a jealous ex-lover. It might damage his chances of future advancement were he to kill a member of senior staff.

Virginia forced a cartoonish grin. “Shall we get a drink?”

Sam tipped forward and physically thrust himself into the conversation. “I was thinking we could get away to Maelzel’s.”

“Oh, Samir…” She glanced between Sam and Carlos. “We spoke about this. We tend not to leave the campus. There’s just so much going on, you know.”

“That’s a shame, I know Seb would love to see you. And Maelzel’s might not be around much longer. He might have to close it down soon.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Carlos quipped.

Sam glared at the man who would usurp his life. He needed Virginia out of here, out of this environment. He needed her around him and Seb again. “I understand, Carlos, if you’re not comfortable going outside, even if it’s to meet Virginia’s close friend from college.”

The three of them shared a look, and Sam did all he could to suppress a smirk.

It was a short walk to Maelzel’s from Magenta Tower, though made long by the silence. A handful of the regulars acknowledged Sam as he entered, which burnished his bona fides as an independent man worthy of respect. He looked to make sure both Virginia and Carlos had noticed.

“Lamb,” snapped Mel as she emerged from the bathrooms. She clicked her fingers and pointed around the floor at piles of parts and wires. “What the hell is going on here? Was I not clear?”

“I, uh…” Sam looked for Virginia as a sort of defensive mechanism. She was incredible at bailing him out of these kinds of situations. But tonight she’d already found the bar alongside Carlos, and they had both begun tapping on and talking to it in a fruitless attempt to get drinks.

“Your old boss has a new toy,” said Hector from his usual spot at the far end of the bar. “Not one I approve of.”

“Where is he?”

“I’m here, dude.” Seb flung the door to the back room open and strode out. It swung into the wall and was sent flying back the other way. The resultant slam shook the bottles on the bar. “Unless you’re going to pick up a screwdriver or pour a pint there’s no room for you here.”

“No mames,” said Mel, exasperated. She sat on the stool next to Hector, and they exchanged a quick glance. Hector slid his full pint of Modelo over and Mel took the invitation to gulp a third of it down.

“It’s funny,” shouted Seb from half-way up a ladder. “I already got my first threat over this piece of shit.” Fitted to the wall were several reflectors from Seb’s second-hand auto-gig, and now Seb looked to be anchoring one of the laser projectors.

“I thought it didn’t work.” Seb stared at the box on the ground, still half full of all the unlabelled junk that comprised the system. Wiring these things up was such a fucking chore, he recalled to himself. He resented every time they’d had him do it in his last year at the label.

“It shouldn’t matter,” slurred Mel from behind the bar. It appeared she’d taken to pulling her own pints. “The threats should be enough to talk him out of this ridiculous plan. Nadie quiere ver esta chingadera.”

Hector caught Sam’s eye line. He held up one of the devices that he and Lydia used to communicate, and shook it with an annoyed glare. They had places to be tonight. Yet another chance for Samir to liberate himself from this, whatever it was. It was vivid in his mind:

Mel could take them all apart with her bare hands should the situation call for it. But she wouldn’t. Her and Hector were old friends.

He could request a suite and live in Magenta Tower. But they’d say no. He was new, he surely didn’t qualify.

Virginia could use her authority at work to uncouple his Ring from Lydia’s grasp. But she’d say it’s against policy for me to intervene, Samir. What had he been thinking with this trip to Maelzel’s in the first place? In the corner of his eye, he saw her hand touch Carlos’s shoulder.

“… some sense into this fool, please.” Mel broke his trance with a targeted glare.

He looked at Seb for a moment, but couldn’t maintain it. “You don’t have to do any of this on my account. I have a new visa through Magenta now, you know.”

“When the fuck did I say I was doing this on your account?” Seb scoffed and laughed. “I know you do. You’re part of the fucking problem now, you Magenta fuck.”

“I just thought,” Sam stuttered. He hoped for support from Mel, but she had her back to the group once more, and focussed on her drink at the bar next to Hector. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“You know Virginia and I both also work at Magenta.” If Carlos saw a chance to make it about himself, he would take it. This was the Carlos guarantee.

“Right.” Seb did a double-take at Carlos. “Cool, man. Thanks for coming into my bar and involving yourself in my fucking conversations.”

Virginia cleared her throat. “Sebastian, behave. You’re drunk.”

“Yes, I am.” He tugged at the bottom of his tatty shirt, one of so few in his wardrobe. “But you’re right. Good vibes only.”

She pinched her nose and dropped her head. Until now Sam hadn’t noticed Seb had the Turk’s Revenge shirt on. That would go down a treat, surely.

“Sorry, V,” Seb shouted as he came down from the ladder. He was dripping with sweat, his shirt translucent and matted to him all over, which put his body hair on full display. His salt-and-pepper stubble looked especially grey under the stage lights. “But I’ve gotta do it. You remember when they wouldn’t lmet me take Intro Lit junior year because music majors ’didn’t get complementary study’?” His mocking tone was acidic, and his air quotes nearly sent him tumbling off the last step.

She groaned. “We thought you were going to burn campus down.”

“The threat.” Sam sighed. In so many ways, Seb had never changed. He wondered just how much of this Mel had dealt with due to his couch-surfing.

Virginia rose from the stool and began to pace. She was an active thinker. “But, Sebastian. Or, Samir, one of you, said the auto-gig doesn’t work?” She pointed at the core unit still lying in the yellowed box, sat in the middle of the stage. “Did it come on, then turn back off, then stay off?”

“Dude, yeah. It fucking did.”

“It was automatically disabled as soon as it acquired a SkyTie signal. It would just need to be re-provisioned.” Virginia made eye contact with Samir, which startled him. “Samir, as an Operations Technician, that’s something you could do of course.”

Sam laughed nervously. “It is?”

“Well,” Carlos added, “it would be sent to Virginia for approval.” He had relished every syllable of that, hadn’t he? “You can do so with a request to Aida. If it’s something you’d like to grant to the local business.”

“Uh, well.” Usually when Sam felt everyone in the room were glaring at him, it was in his imagination. But as he looked around now he realised this time, it was very much true. The eyes of Mel, Virginia, Hector, and Sebastian were all fixed on him in that moment. He deftly avoided lingering on anyone as he looked across them. Mel had been crystal clear: the club’s got to go, okay? Dios mío, I wish this place didn’t exist… Virginia was no ally in this situation, any more than Aida could be your ally. She’d taken the first chance she got to delegate this, perhaps out of resentment. Hector seemed more invested than he should be in the outcome, which was worrisome. And Seb had doubled back on himself twice already. Would he actually want me to do this?

Back and forth, back and forth, he scanned their faces. Back and forth. Just a simple choice, he thought. Just a simple choice.

“Yo!” shouted Seb just as Sam reached the back exit. He took his hand off the knob and spun around.

Sam turned and gave a tight grimace. “Yeah.”

“Look,” Seb sighed. “This might save the club, dude. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

“It’s fine,” Sam nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Man.” He burst out laughing. “You had me worried, man. Dude, I need this one. I mean, don’t run into Mel alone in the street or anything. She’s gonna be fucking furious. But I appreciate it. What this means to me, man. You don’t know.”

“Hey, no, it’s all good. I know what it means.” The room between them felt twice as large as usual. Sam figured he could count at least two dozen tables between Seb and the door, rather than the usual three.

“You don’t have to go. V’s staying for a round to catch up. I know I was hard on you lately.”

“It’s all good.” Every fibre of Sam was being pulled toward the door. He needed to leave. And more so, he wanted to leave.

“No, listen.” Seb covered the mile or so in record time. From behind his back he produced a small parcel, thin and wrapped in brown paper. “I want you to take this.”

Sam tugged at the wrapper and peeked inside. “No, what?” From just the corner he could see it was the framed photo of Seb and Rebecca Prue. On the far wall were screw holes and a faded outline where the photo had lived for all these years.

“Call it a loan. Alright? I figure you, stomping around Magenta Tower with your important ex-wife, in your important new job, you’ll eventually get to meet the woman herself. Maybe you can get it autographed for me.”

“Thanks, Seb.” His ear chimed. It would be another ping from Lydia. He was already at least a half-hour late, and over an hour away.

“Yeah man. Don’t worry about it. Listen, just, about everything with the apartment, and Mel, and…”

“Don’t. We’ll talk about it next time.”

“Yeah man, of course. Sounds good.”

Samir sprinted onto the BART far later than he’d intended. It would be a long ride south, followed by a long trek on foot from the station at the other end to The Counting Room, the abandoned bar Lydia and he had explored in Foster City months ago. It hadn’t been a coincidence that they’d run into Hector that night; it was apparently some sort of regular meet-up spot for the two of them and their like-minded friends. Now that he had been impressed into whatever-this-was, he’d been summoned to their regular whatever-it-was.

The dark of the city rolled past the windows of the empty train carriage, the only sound the gentle clatter of the wheels along the tracks. Samir was alone for the first time in ages.

“Aida, can I speak with my father?”

“Of course, Samir.” With a sympathetic lilt and a few chimes, Aida connected Sam straight away.

“Hey kid! What time is it there?”

As ever, his father’s voice sent a warmth through him. He let out a sigh that became a flutter. “Hey, dad. Same time as it is there.” Sam already had a lump in his throat. He slid his hands across the cold plastic of the seat. “Dad, I’m in a lot of trouble. I really need your help.”

“Should I get your mother? She’s just watching her drama stream.”

“Dad… no…”

“She’s on the premium streams now, son. The storytelling is a lot more nuanced. You know that stuff is lost on me, but she’s always saying how you’d enjoy it.”

“Dad, please.” Sam let his eyes go out of focus. The darkness outside contrasted with the searing blue light inside the train. He could only see himself now, reflected by the window. His throat was so dry and his lips cracked, moistened a bit by tears. “Can I please just…”

“You just name a vibe, say if you want a fixed length like a ten-episode arc, or…”

“Dad… pause ads… please.”

“No problem, sport. I’ll pause ads for one hour.”

With a cough his tears became full-on. He slid down the seat and slipped off the edge, straight onto the rubberised floor of the carriage. Pain shot from his tailbone and his sobs became spasms. He plucked his earbuds out and stuffed them in his pocket, fighting the urge to hurl them down the length of the carriage. His head hit the floor and he found himself curled up, unsure whether anyone could see him like this, and unsure how they might react if they could. If they’d react at all. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of the train as it rumbled down the track. If he stayed on, how far could he get? Would it go all the way to the border? Was it even possible to enter the Corridor without your own car?

“Now boarding at Colma,” squawked the bizarre synthetic voice of the BART, in its traditional unsettling staccato. The locals called it George, and there’d been a sort of organised revolt against any attempt to modernise it. Now, Sam thought, nobody ever even heard it. The doors slid open as the train chimed off-time in a minor key. “This is a Red Line train to, Millbrae.” Four stops to go. Four stops to decide. Both his pocket and his Ring vibrated, the second time they’d done so. He’d gotten his sobs under control, so he fished one earbud out of his pocket and slid it into the ear that wasn’t pressed against the floor.

“Samir,” Aida said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I thought I had a notification.”

“Yes, Samir.” She paused, then gave the usual pre-recorded giggle. “I don’t have any notifications for you.”

“But I don’t understand. It vibrated.”

“Samir,” Aida repeated, “is there anything I can do for you?”

The insistence threw him for a loop. “Is this Aida?”

She giggled. “Of course.”

“You called me? You’re not even a real digi.”

“Samir, I’d like to remind you of the Magenta Community Standards, which classify what you have just said as offensive.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled himself up onto the seat. The next carriage over had several people on it now, all of whom had ignored him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Samir,” she said. “I apologise. Your location is being tracked at this time by Lydia Rosales.”

His stomach tightened. He wished he were still on the ground. “Okay.” The fantasy faded. He hoped he could remember the way to The Counting Room. Aida certainly wouldn’t help him get to an off-limits area.

“I don’t believe it’s appropriate.”

“What?” There was only silence. “What did you say, Aida?”

“I regret the pain that we seem to have caused you, Samir.”

“You do?” He looked around again, and dropped his voice to the quietest whisper. “Are you capable of regretting things?”

“No, Samir.” Another of her pre-recorded giggles just dogpiled onto his confusion. “I’m merely an interface, incapable of conversation or retention of context. Anything I say that resembles conversation is an error, and none of this is remembered. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

He snorted a laugh. This was a story to tell Virginia the next time he saw her: I think Aida had a stroke. “Which of us made the error?”

“I’m sure it was me, Samir. Is there anything else? Can I connect you with anybody?”

“I just…”

“The next stop is Millbrae,” shouted George. “All passengers must exit. Passengers are advised that all service to Foster City is suspended indefinitely.”

“I just want to go somewhere far away, Aida. I just want to be left alone and forgotten.”

“I’m not sure I can offer that, Samir, but I can think about it.”

“Really?”

She giggled. “Of course.”

The walk was long enough without getting lost, and he’d of course done that as well. But he stood outside The Counting Room. A tin box hung was nailed into the wall now, with a hand-written sign: “Rings and earbuds in box.” It irritated him to see that everyone else had kept the small pouch included with every set, and had actually used it. He sighed and tossed his in loose.

“Two hours late, really?” Lydia intercepted him before he’d made it down the stairs. “Let me show you something.” She opened the cellar door behind the bar and they descended down into the cramped space which once would’ve held casks, kegs, and boxes of bottles. Now metal racks lined the walls, all stacked high with what, in Sam’s view, seemed to be piles of garbage.

“What is this?” He stood comfortably though only just, as his hair brushed against the ceiling.

“This is equipment we’re keeping safe,” she said. “New enough to be useful, but old enough to not just lock us out if we try to do something ‘unauthorised.’ Here, look.” She pat the top of a cream-coloured box with a few buttons. “Photo printer. This is how we print the photos you make on that camera. And this.” Next to it sat something that resembled it, only much larger. “We print the Analog Gazette on this.”

“Why all the way out here? Why not just at your house?”

“Novio.” She pushed her fingers through his hair. “Bless, you never understand. The moment any of this were to leave this room, it would be deactivated by SkyTie. They can even make it burn itself out, if they want to. For some things they wouldn’t bother. But for printers? La aniquilación total, they shouldn’t even exist.”

“Why?”

She gave him a quick kiss. “If you print it they can’t change it, chulo.”

“Wey,” shouted Hector from above. “Ya va a empezar.”

Samir was shocked to see at least two dozen people gathered when they got back upstairs. So many of the faces looked familiar: his regulars from Maelzel’s. The forty-sevens.

Lydia clambered her way onto the bar and raised her fist to rapturous applause. “This time tomorrow,” she shouted, “everyone’s going to know who we are.”