Aurablade

08

Darkness dwells in the city's underground sector. Rounded, cobblestone walls arch overhead with small disks of light implanted every few meters, casting the tunnels in a yellowed glow. Only a few people walk through the streets at this time in the morning, the ones who have early morning jobs to rush to. Otherwise, it's silent.

Holding a small port in my hand, I double-check the housing directory I hacked into. Tier Wilson is supposed to live in flat number 584 on the Southside. I click on a map, then glance up. Ahead, several stairwells line either side of the street. The second one should lead me to the right flat.

I pause at the top of the steps. Before I hack my way into the flat, I first must check if Chromeface is home. I crouch down, bringing a magnifying lens to my eyes. It magnifies every nook and crevice on the door until I find a tiny, microscopic lens on the side of the door. Through it, I can make out the faintest, blue glow illuminating a wall. I reach into my coat and remove what I call a "mechanical hand." It's a tiny robot with feet, and after entering a line of code, it bounces down the steps and springs up, smacking the doorbell.

Seconds pass by. I watch the back wall for any sign of movement, any sign that Chromeface is inside.

Nothing.

I descend the rusted, paint-peeled steps and place my voltage stealer against the door. A security pin pops up on the keycode screen to the right of the doorknob. Of course he'd have an extra measure in place should a person try to unlock his flat.

After running a few extra lines of code, I override the security mechanism. The door peels away from the entrance until it's halfway ajar. I push through into a small living room. To my left, there's a small kitchen area with a sink and cabinets. Along the back wall, there's another door left cracked.

My hand on my dagger, I cross the room and step into Chromeface's bedroom. It's tidy, a barely lived in neatness level, illuminated by a pale blue glow in the walls.

A desk. A single wooden chair. A comforter pulled over the bed.

My eyes narrow slightly as I take in the room. There's always something more. No one can disappear and leave not a single clue behind. I approach the desk, scanning the sanded surface for any notches. With gloved hands, I remove a flashlight from my pocket and shine it on the boards to get a better look.

The surface is slightly grainy, but no definable notches, holes, or buttons are embedded in it. I turn my flashlight to the bed next, then the walls. Still, nothing. Not even a wardrobe.

No wardrobe? I whip the light around. I spot no extra doors within the small room. Either Chromeface spends very little time within this apartment, or...

I flatten myself on the floor, peering under the bed. Nothing is hidden below there, so I cross back to the desk. There's something I'm missing, but what?

The chair is slightly pulled out, away from the desk. I press on the seat, then the back of the chair. My flashlight dips down, shining on the floor.

That's when I spot it: a notch in the floor. I step back and notice there are four, placed slightly off-center from the desk. I maneuver the chair's feet so that each one sinks into the divots.

Light flashes from the wall, and a large, tri fold screen unfolds from the wall. At the same time, a door materializes on the wall to the right of the desk, which now displays a keyboard on its smooth surface.

On the screen, a password box appears.

I survey my options, first the computer, then the door, which has a handprint scanner in place of a knob.

Trying to guess Chromeface's password would be impossible. However, a handprint scanner I can work with. I remove a thin plastic adhesive sheet from my bag, pressing it against the scanner. It returns a full print of Chromeface's hand. I place the print on a fresh glove for twenty seconds.

With the new glove on my hand, I touch the scanner. A green light appears on the side of the scanner, and the door slides downward, revealing a closet. Several pieces of clothing hang inside, a few leather jackets, jeans, and several t-shirts. In the back are two black jumpsuits. I turn to a set of drawers built into the wall. I pull the top one out, removing the pod inside. The second one is empty.

Inside the third, a silver mask sits inside — Chromeface's iconic cybernetic face mask. Reportedly, it contains a computer so powerful, he can communicate with it using only his thoughts.

Reportedly. I never believed it.

The final drawer is locked, but nothing that a quick lockpick can't open. Inside are two more pods. I lift and inspect them. The first one seems fairly normal, but something catches my eye on the second one. Angling it toward the light, I make out a faint logo embossed on the back.

A circle with Roman numerals counting to eleven, surrounding an atom in the center.

It's the symbol of Gang One, the political group Argon heads.

Of the two gangs controlling the city, Gang One and Gang Two, both have subunits affiliated with their organization: businesses, banks, flats, housing sectors, etc. Gang One's most recent addition of The CryoFuture was a way to boost their popularity among the masses by promising a way to preserve oneself for future life. People could enter freeze chambers and preserve their bodies for a hundred years, waking up in a future era.

Ever since Gang One launched the CryoFuture, their popularity has increased in the polls. At this point, though, it's clear it was only a publicity stunt. And now I must uncover what happened to all the people who have disappeared in this fraud of a project.

I glance over the sides of the pod until I find a notch in the side. I pry the back away from the pod to reveal a battery inside. The year on it is 2142.

It would be the most recent model, released only this year. And if it has Gang One's logo on the back, that would mean someone issued this pod specially to Chromeface.

For what purpose? Communication? That makes the most sense, that Gang One hired Chromeface for a job.

I sort through the pieces, trying to line up each jagged shard in its own place. It's ironic that Gang One would hire the very person who abducted Raena, the wife to one of Gang One's top leaders.

My eyes flick to the drawer above, the one containing the mask. Unless he has two identical masks, Chromeface is not on a job at the moment. He's a regular citizen, doing citizen things.

He might return at any second.

Quickly, I press the power button on the top of the pod. It lights up with the same Gang One logo on the back. While it powers on, I remove Chromeface's mask, holding it a hair away from my face.

Password protected. Figures.

I set it back inside the drawer. The pod is on now, and a lock screen is displayed. Still, messages flood the screen below where the time reads five-ten in the morning. I scroll through them. Some go back more than a month.

More than a month. Chromeface hasn't turned this pod on in over a month. I turn the other two pods from the drawers on. Again, as messages flood the lock screens, they date back months ago.

Request for target...

Request for target...

Lease payment ov...

Request for target...

Lease payment ov...

I power each pod off again, shutting them away in their respective drawers. Stepping out of the closet, the door closes behind me. I shift the chair out of the notches, and the screen and door shrink back inside the walls, leaving me in darkness.

My eyes blink, adjusting back to the pale blue glow. I exit Chromeface's bedroom, then leave through the front. The door is still ajar when I leave. If Chromeface returns, he'll know someone was here.

Yet somehow, I suspect he won't be returning.