Pollen

After the power cut and kicking a pig in the snout Shunka decided to take a nice long stroll instead of cutting her way through the streets on her bike. She was going to see her friend at their favorite shot house on the corner of Sihanouk Blvd and 3rd. The glow of the afternoon sun lit the signs jutting out like teeth from the shop fronts and karaoke bars. The district center of the Broadway officially started when the anti-slip glassy pavements began. The pavement transformed into a high definition LED display beneath Shunka’s feet. As you walked, it sent personalized messages to you based on the data it gathered from the macro-sensors underfoot. It could determine age, gender and personality, all by analyzing the way in which someone walked. A few months ago the pavement had flashed up an advert for Shunka to lose weight. Needless to say she was mortified. Today the PaveVerts were kinder, simply suggesting some new shoes from Tao’s Martial Arts Center. She would have preferred an ad for a high end boutique store, but she couldn’t help the way she walked.

Arrows flashed up to lead her to the shop, and red collision lights flashed if someone was too busy looking at the floor instead of where they were going. She walked right past the turn for the shoe shop, so the ads adapted and calculated she might be off for a drink, based on her route. She was heading toward the well-known nightlife neighborhood and as she walked, ads flashed up images of happy hour drinks and devilishly good looking men. A slogan then popped up, advertising the newest and therefore most trendy pop-up bar: Tunes2. She ignored the ads, again. Sometimes she liked to take a walk in the district center just to randomize the PaveVerts programming.

The gaudy shop signs stopped when she reached the heart of the Broadway, a strip of high end, sophisticated establishments. Shoe shops employed stunning overhanging glass designs, so when a shopper peered toward the heavens they saw shoes, suspended in sunlight. Perfect curves of carbon fiber twisting in arches over the street to the opposite side of the Broadway provided walkways between department stores as well as views of the City Center. An attempt to evoke a feeling of the potential to be free as the consumers shopped.

Shunka’s favorite shops were the app megastores. Places where she could buy applications for her digital life and her physical life, creating the perfect character for herself. From surveillance apps to boob apps to gun apps—all tastefully grafted into your body and all under one roof. It was everything a teenage girl needed.

The megastores were malleable buildings; their shop fronts changed shape every day to promote products. The total face of the building hung between two reinforced, transparent sheets of graphene. Inside the sheets, ferrofluids made from nanoscale magnetic particles were suspended in a liquid and could be teased into any shape using electromagnets. Yesterday, a series of App stores united in their strategy for a product launch and seven giant penises, 40 feet high at their tips, lined a vast section of the district center. Protests ensued and it was the talk of the town. Shunka couldn’t remember the name of the app they were promoting but she thought it was damn funny!

She reached her destination and finally stepped off the street and onto the wooden decking of Oasis. No bright lights here, just simple wooden beams, creeping vines, and some comfortable floor seating out on the porch to watch the world go by. Miyu was already there sipping a cocktail.

“Hello, trouble,” Miyu smiled, but only with her mouth, her eyes looked dried and cracked under all the blue makeup.

“Hey,” Shunka sat down with a thump.

“Moody today, are we?” Miyu asked, running her long pink nails through her dark silky hair.

“I’ve had a pig of a day.”

Shunka picked up the menu; its tag line read 100 pages of pure pleasure. She thumbed the digital pages quickly and made her way to the shots. She tapped on a picture of ‘the Hammer’, a toxic mix of spirits topped with a double sugar shot. She slung the menu down. Miyu tried not to stare, but Shunka caught her.

“So, how you doing?” Shunka leaned forward and shook off the web of the day.

“He broke up with me. Can you believe that? He broke up with me.” Miyu fidgeted on her cushion, like she could still feel him on her skin.

“First, how did he do it?”

“Over the fucking EEG, couldn’t look into my face and say a few words!”

“Okay, and did he say why?” Shunka’s drink arrived. She took a long, refreshing sip; the shudder of relief pleased her.

“Yeah, his stupid emo-punk avatar—which, I might add doesn’t actually look anything like him—said it was because I talked too much. He said he couldn’t get a moment’s silence. After the first four months he stopped talking and played games all the fucking time.” She slowed the end of her sentence and emphasized the point, pulling a face like a zombie. “What was I supposed to do? I just wanted to tell him about my day. He never listened to a word of it and was always hooked into some multi-player game. Now, he has the audacity to break up with me. Do you appreciate how alone I felt? Sitting in a room with someone, and feeling like I could sacrifice animals in front of him and he’d have no idea?”

“He’s a hooker anyway,” Shunka said bluntly.

“What? Are you saying he cheated on me? Where’d he get the time? He was glued to his games!”

“I don’t know anything for sure, but I heard gossip.” Shunka looked down for a second, realizing that this was news for Miyu, even though everyone else already knew. “Well, we’ll find out when the stats come out in an hour, won’t we? If I see one single guilty peak I’m gonna kill him.”

“Honey.” Shunka paused and tried to think of something clever to say, but there was nothing coming. “What matters is that he was a loser.”

“He was a bit. I mean who calls themselves by their street name the whole time, and what kind of name is Chow X? Sounds like a dog biscuit.”

“So then why are you so upset?”

“Duh, because I’ll been seen as his ex, because he dumped me.”

Shunka took a long hard sip of her cocktail. She hated the whole concept of the stats; they ruined a relationship. She didn’t know anyone her age who had managed a year with a partner. The stats had turned relationships into a shallow world of instant self-gratification. Relationships were now used for short-term gains, for a jump in social standings, for a chance to create gossip or flood friendship groups with new stories and drama. It was a necessary evil, and half the population would have gone mad if a new influx of hot gossip didn’t hit the streets every week. Drama makes the world go round.

“You know what they’re calling us, don’t you?” Shunka said, already ordering another drink. “Generation whore.”

“And you know who writes and promotes that bullshit?” Miyu said, “People who have to pay for sex.” They both laughed. “Hey, how are you and your fella doing? I heard some crazy shit about that guy.” Miyu wanted to move the conversation away from her life; she was storing up the energy for the stats.

“His reputation and his personality are polar opposites.” Shunka smiled wryly, “He’s one of those guys who looks and seems like a grade-A hit man, but he’s a big soft cartoon character really.”

“God you are such a little showoff. Never a dull moment is there?”

“It’s better than sitting around waiting for the next Spy Cam show to come out that’s for sure. Plus . . .” she paused, gulped her cocktail. The next words were harder than she thought to articulate. Her throat dried up despite the alcohol. “I think I might be in love.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s a four letter word I never thought I’d hear from you. You are the most impulsive person I’ve ever met—it defines you. And now the L word is getting put out there?”

“I only think I am, which means I’m probably not . . . Cheng and I talk a lot, we have really fiery debates about science and bio-engineering. He thinks he’s so smart, and if we’re talking machines, he’s got the edge. But hey, I’m a Farmer, I’ll kick his ass on genome blueprints any day.”

“Oh really . . . snore!” Miyu pretended to fall asleep in her drink.

“Very funny, but you asked and I told.”

“It’s true. But really, you debate science? Where’s the passion and romance? Where’s the overblown gestures of romance and affection?”

“Oh they are there, believe me. Last week I went over to his place up in Sky Borough thinking it was another little evening in, but I wanted to surprise him, so I bought him the new M-Ink set. It’s a tattoo machine. Once you’ve imprinted the pattern, it’ll move, like if I imprinted a Chinese dragon and programmed the nanos on a set route, it’ll fly around his body! But I get there and in his lab…”

“Wait he’s got a lab in his house?”

“Of course he does. Anyway, he’s been building me an iCat, not like those fluffy things you see in town; it’s not a child’s toy,” she said defensively.

“Wow, you hit your own nerve there. I didn’t say a word”

“It’s got sensors and weapons,” she moved on quickly, “it’s so killer it’s like a walking tiger.”

“Well, I guess that’s romantic, I was thinking dinner and candles, but for you a killer cat is pretty much the same.”

“Plus, he’s working on some sort of bacterial lung app. I had to retrieve a dish of stolen bacteria this morning. Apparently it’s something big. I can’t piece together what it is, though.”

“For a couple that has black market dealings—and the ability to kick 99 percent of the entire district’s ass in a fair fight—your personal life really does bore the crap outta me.”

“Yeah?” Shunka leant in. “He’s fucking dynamite between the sheets. Want the details?”

“Ugh, no!” Miyu threw her head back in mock disgust. “See, I knew it! At the end of the day, we are all just animals.”

“Mammals.”

They laughed through an hour of catching up. The sun sank behind the twisted Broadway skyline and the brilliant laser light shows sparked up, all of them careful not to shoot into the night sky. Instead, the shows aimed at buildings or the street, pulsating drinking deals and last minute sales. The dragonflies danced about like scorched bullets raining from a golden sky. The sound relaxed Shunka. Growing up in an old house, she was surrounded by nests in her garden, the water ponds a perfect breeding ground. She didn’t think of home much, but after the power cut she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was growing up. That she was in danger of entering cruise control, but that sense of panic in the vault fueled her. It was addictive.

“Oh Shunka,” Miyu’s eyes widened. “You ready? The stats are in.” Miyu re-focused her eye. They both logged into the Little Tokyo EEG network.

At birth all babies have a chip implanted into their visual cortex. The chip translates EEG waves of data, and uses the vast expanse of information existing inside the giant computer of the human mind to store and transmit uploaded data from one person to the next. The huge hive mind all accessible and displayed through bio implants directly into their eyes. It was like having your imagination displayed for you in your vision. “Okay I’m sending you the password; you’ll see my private profile.”

“Thank you and good luck,” Shunka said as they clinked their glasses together; an optimistic cheers before the data arrived.

The stats release at the end of any relationship was big news. Nearest and dearest often held little parties to commemorate, mourn, or get angry about their relationships. A chip embedded in the brain recorded key information like the release of certain chemicals throughout the body on certain dates. You could track all the emotions of your partner after the split and see who was happy, who was depressed, but often it came down to one statistic: how often and what dates they felt guilt. The stats were a social release. They were like therapy with your friends. Plus, locked inside their giant walls, it was new news. Something to talk about, investigate. Often, the release of stats would keep people in that social circle entertained for weeks, even months.

“Can you see this?” Miyu said.

“He was living in complete guilt.” Shunka said with excitement.

“Tell me about it, that doesn’t make any sense, he was playing his games all the fucking time. How can you feel guilty when you’re absorbed in games?”

“Maybe he’s got a gaming addiction and felt guilty he couldn’t leave it alone?” Shunka said.

“Maybe every time I left the house he was looking at kiddy porn.” Miyu’s eyes were wide and furious as she scanned the data.

“Maybe he was involved in some digital criminality?”

“Maybe he was spying on me.”

“All good gossip, and you’ve got zero guilt, but shit do you have the capacity for being pissed off!” Shunka said.

“Well, I feel liberated. This is gonna be great fun, tracking down what he was up to.” Miyu downed her drink.

“Miyu,” Shunka nervously whispered. “You said he spent hours on your system at home gaming on the big screen?”

“He would ignore me all night then make it up to me with treats and sex.”

“Maybe it’s not public yet.” Shunka blinked and logged out. “I got an update on the farm network. There’s been an incident.”

“What does that mean, ‘an incident’?”

“I’ve been assigned a top priority job, I think because of my relationship with the target. The Farmers, they’re looking for you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He wasn’t gaming the whole time. He was a systems hack, and he’s been stealing Mearm secrets.”

“What do you mean?”

“Food, Miyu. He’s been selling our food data.”

“For who? Why? What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve been asked to take you in. They have tracked the hack back to a large data feed that streamed directly through signal 798z45.”

“In Japanese, please, you’re talking in your science voice again.”

“The signal is the private line that attacked the Mearm mainframe. Trouble is, I know who the signal belongs to, and so do they.”

“Who is it?”

“Guess.” Shunka’s expression had turned to stone.

“Chow’s?” Miyu said hopefully.

“No. It’s you. He’s set you up to take the fall.”

Miyu seemed to crumble like an origami paper bird thrown into a fire. Shunka called her bike, put Miyu on the back and they left the bar with a screech. The first rule of stealing; implicate someone else. Chow X had been hacking into Mearm systems on multiple occasions over the past three months. He’d fallen off the network two days ago. She had to keep Miyu out of the public eye and get the truth from Chow X. In any missing person case the best bet was to start with the Shui Fong biker gangs down in Chinatown. They generally knew the story, or at least provided some form of a lead that could get Shunka started on the assignment and on the trace.

The biker guys hung around the arcade joints, looking in mirrors, checking that their slicked back coifs were perfect. They spent their time breaking each other’s balls over girls. Shunka knew they didn’t respond well to authority, so she ditched the suit and changed into her civilian clothes. Letting her half-Japanese heritage shine through, she dressed as a manga geisha, complete with pink eye shadow and righteous red lips. She rolled into Chinatown, and pulled up at the biggest collection of pimped-up parked bikes she could find.

A large external LED display pumped out images of rock and roll heroes all gaming at the arcades and buying official merchandise. Street vendors sold synthetic hot dogs, all branded with a Mearm Inc logo on the sausage. The smell of charred meat assaulted her nose. She was used to the raw smell of blood and bacteria.

Chinatown was where it was at, and she didn’t come here enough. On the Eastern edge of Little Tokyo, this neighborhood could give you infections that some smartass surgeon in Guangzhou would have to spend their entire grant to find a cure for. The roses dotted about the busy streets looked more like splatters of blood than flowers for sale. Still, the scent lingered long enough to remind her of home, which was her cue not to hang around too long.

The Chinese didn’t like Japanese sightseers, especially bastard children like her. She kept her head down and Miyu close; she knew where she was going and ignored the stares from behind puffs of cigarette smoke. She was here to see Pres. He was a local leader—good looking, always citrus fresh, he took his hygiene very seriously. She always thought it was something to do with his old age. Handshakes were off the menu—bowing only. He had been known to draw his micro fine sword if you got too close. Made from nano-tubes, it was almost invisible to the naked eye but with the right force and angle, it could cut someone’s torso in half. This he had been known to do. Shunka had only glimpsed the darker side of Pres, she looked up to him and Pres had always restrained himself in Shunka’s company during their long friendship.

A hot rod rolled past them as they crossed the street to Camey’s, one of only two restaurants in Chinatown that won’t add complimentary cockroaches and rats to your meal. It was a dumpling house at the end of a dead-end lane, the stronghold for Pres and his crew. Under the glass ground a buried sensor picked up every modification ever released. Shunka was immediately flagged. She knew the drill. She stood with her arms out and her legs apart with a sour look on her face as two smartly clad Triads approached her without trying to conceal their annoyance. It was stiflingly hot and they looked like they were suffering in their suits.

One of the Triads had dark sunglasses and tattoos reaching up his neck. He stood back, running an x-ray over her. The other, a scarred mean-looking son-of-a-bitch with a macho swagger, ran his hand scanner over her. It was standard procedure; Shunka knew those things only needed a quick up and down over the body to pick up everything. This guy, probably a habitual pervert, she thought, ran his hand slowly over her stomach, and then began to cup her left breast. With a skilful knuckle shot straight to his throat, he fell to his knees. She then spun him around and took cover behind his giant torso. Within seconds the lane was full of heavily armed goons and every hidden mounted wall gun aimed at her.

“We got ourselves a fun one here,” said the guy with the glasses, smirking and folding his arms.

“Boss, you seeing this?” he said, looking upwards.

It was then that Shunka peeked out from behind the giant’s back and grinned playfully. As quickly as the alert had gone up, the guns disappeared behind the walls, and the goons, somewhat surprised, shuffled back into their dens.

“It seems you can go right on up. I’ll take care of the big fella.” The guy with the glasses chuckled, helping his friend to his feet.

Shunka looked at the giant. “Don’t grope—you’ll never land yourself a lady that way,” she said as she strutted into Camey’s. Miyu followed wide-eyed; she knew what Shunka was capable of but had never seen it.

The thick smell of MSG hung in the air like cigar smoke, and the staff, in smart black uniforms, scurried about like obedient dogs. Painstaking effort had been taken in detailing the decor. Rose petals were dropped like blood on concrete down the length of long mahogany tables. Candle holders embellished with dragons were cleaned every night, keeping their perfect bronze shine. At the head of the longest table was Pres, sipping a huge glass of red wine and wearing an evening jacket. He summoned her over. The place was heaving with people; she picked her way through the tables.

“Shunka, my dear,” said Pres, rising to give her an air kiss on each cheek. “Please take a seat.”

He then turned to Miyu, “And good evening to you, Miyu. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years; it feels as though we are old friends.”

“Thank you.” she whispered. She recognized his face from the murder gossip rags online.

“Miyu. Could you follow my friend here? We are to keep you safe, I understand, until the truth comes out.”

“Sure.” She looked at Shunka.

“It’s all been arranged. You are safe here and they will keep you hidden even if all hell breaks loose. I trust these people with my life; you can, too.”

Miyu quickly threw her arms around Shunka and crushed her with a tight hug, then turned without looking back and left the hall. Shunka watched her leave as she disappeared into the complex, trailed by a small army of well-dressed escorts.

“Thank you.” Shunka sat politely, her knees together, hands folded on her lap. “So, this is the new venture? I’ve read the reviews. It’s funny that they don’t like your day job but they can’t ignore their taste buds. You’ve come a long way since that noodle shack on the side of the road.”

“I believe that was a compliment. The food enterprises have grown in the past nine years; I could not have foreseen such a success. And you’ve grown too since your short-lived career as a thief.”

“I really did think you were gonna cut my hand off.”

“You were, what, ten years old? I’m not a butcher; it was only a box of noodles. Had you been thirteen, however, our friendship might have taken a different flavor.”

“Oh, and I’m sorry about the goon.” She gestured outside.

“Goon?” Pres laughed. “Yes, they don’t present themselves very well, do they? Mr. Yao, the big man you incapacitated, he’s very well versed in chemistry.”

“Not manners, though.” Shunka pointed at her breast.

“Ah, I see. Well, I shall be having words with him—that’s no way to treat a lady, especially a friend of mine. I’m assuming you didn’t come all this way to hide your friend and teach manners?”

“At least when I make an appearance it’s something interesting. Pres, what would you say is the single most important thing in our world?”

“Are we talking emotionally or physically?”

“Physically.”

“Well, food, water and shelter. I’m guessing by your profession that this has something to do with food?”

“Yeah.”

“No disrespect intended, but, it can’t be too serious?”

“Oh, otherwise they’d have sent someone else?”

“Well, someone with some experience, gravitas, if you please.”

“Wow, Pres, you sure know how to sweet talk a lady.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “Listen, this one is personal. I’m looking for a hacker who used Miyu’s entertainment hub—more specifically, her gaming hub. He somehow managed to hack in to the Farmer network and download data, piggybacking her signal. Now everyone wants Miyu. There are two problems here. First, it’s obviously a concern for the powers that be—this guy has stolen some high-tech data. They will need to know who this was for and what they intend to do with it. The second problem is mine. This little shit has covered his tracks and implicated Miyu as the hacker. So, I need to find him before anyone else and clear her name. I wouldn’t have brought this to your door if it wasn’t important.”

“You don’t need to say that, I understand.”

“Pres, I know you are a businessman, but I’m calling in my favor. Get me through this one, and we are square.”

“That serious?” He took a moment; he knew what she was asking. “Whatever you need.”

“Is there any activity on the market? Noticed any piggybacking on a game feed to extra data packets? Any strange dropped sessions, any bugs?”

Pres logged in. His eyes darted about, snapping through sub-menus, making requests. His eyes then refocused. “It’ll take a few minutes.”

“So how’s business?” Shunka asked.

“We cracked the skull of Wang Ziqi yesterday. She was luring hundreds of women into beauty salons and hotels and forcing them into prostitution. The black market is fine with me—stealing data and selling to highest bidders, violence most acceptable. However, any form of prostitution on my streets will be dealt with.”

“A man of conviction.”

“We aren’t here to discuss my day, though. Shunka, let me ask you something. Do you want to leave this place, see the world beyond the walls?”

“That’s really strange. That’s the second time today I’ve been asked that question. Is there something going on I should know about?”

Pres shook his head.

“Well, at least I can be honest with you. Of course I do—who doesn’t?” She winced. “But I’m not actively pursuing it, and why the hell should I? This is the big city, I’ve got everything I need here. Out there in the world, I’m another sucker, another teenager lost in the machine of life.” She stopped and sighed. “But I will confess, I do dream about it, the freedom. Sometimes I sit in the pig pen and imagine I’m on the outside, not because I want to be there, but because I’d like the chance to choose. I have a right to choose, don’t I?”

“You’re young, and I must say I admire you, but with each new generation, the ache, the desire for escape diminishes. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Fifty years ago when I was a child, there were protests on the street we lashed out with anger at our neighbors . . . but we felt like we were the minority voice.”

“What was it like back then?”

“Back then?” he roared with laughter. “Were you always this charming? I can’t seem to remember. My old age has numbed my memory!” He laughed again then took a long slow sip of wine. Shunka smiled shyly.

“Back then it was a little different. My grandparents remembered the journey to the city, but they were only children. Yet they were a living connection to the outside. We rallied behind it, demanded the right to leave, but there is no one within these walls who could grant us that permission. So we tried ourselves.”

“The Rose Massacre?” Shunka said, taking care to sound softer than usual.

“Correct. If there is a figurehead of authority, the blame can be squarely laid upon them. But what do we have here? Local gang leaders, the Transport Union . . . there’s no need for police because that’s the job for people like me. Back then it was my uncle who ran things. He led an army to the walls; they had the full force of Little Tokyo behind them. They tried for hours. They shot at it, threw grenades, lit explosives, and even tried digging under it. It was no use; they barely scratched the surface. So they ended up in the trading tunnels. After the guards and Traders had left, my uncle led the army up to a checkpoint, tore down the gates, and ran through the tunnels to what they thought was freedom. No one knows exactly what happened at the front of the long column of people streaming forward. But seven hundred people choked to death that day. The air past that security check point was poison. That’s why the Traders wear gas masks. There have been so many failed attempts. Even with gas masks on, our people still choke and die.”

“Who did you blame?”

“The Flower Factory, the City Center, the Traders—everyone,” he sighed. “And now a contract hacker has stolen all your food reproduction secrets. It feels as though the invisible powers are playing their games again.”

“Well, if there’s one place that’s got the full picture, it’s got to be the City Center. They can see everything from their glass towers.”

“I would agree, but I believe they are as trapped as we are. They built our city, of that I’m sure—but they no longer control it. It’s the Flower Factory that’s responsible for our imprisonment. And what do powerful organizations want?”

“A kick in the nuts?” Shunka retorted playfully.

“More. They always want more. They want to be so fat their stomachs explode. They want power and control. If they have stolen your data they are making a play to control us totally.”

“Then we’d have a figurehead to fight.”

“True. Yet our enemy has remained hidden for decades. I doubt the game they are playing will reveal them to us. We must face the enemies within our walls first. Only when we stop fighting each other can we fight the injustice that has locked us up behind these walls, taken the lives of our friends and families, oppressed us without mercy.”

“Pres, what do you know that I don’t?”

“Many things that the young do not need to be burdened with.” He averted the question and raised his finger to his lips. “Quiet now. You will have some hard days before you, harder perhaps than the loss of your family.”

Shunka shuddered at the word and, even worse, the dull grey ache that she could not remember them. She had only glimpses of memories, ideas of comfort, love.

“I don’t care about hardship,” she snapped. “I care about my friends, about my boyfriend, and how I’m gonna get next week’s K-thrill Star update before anyone else.”

“You can play the child card with me, but I see through it.”

“You do? Well I’m gonna rip the fucking head off of Chow X first and then anyone else who gets in my way to get some answers and clear Miyu’s name. Did you see that?” Shunka leaned forward with a warlike flash in her eyes, the venom of youth surging through her.

Pres finished his wine, unruffled.

“Well, it seems you know your purpose, and isn’t that what defines us?”

“My purpose is to stop my friend from getting into a world of trouble and pain for something she didn’t do. I need to find Chow X right now.”

“Well, you are in luck. It seems that the Transport Union received a spike in data through its racing simulator. It wouldn’t seem suspicious—there are spikes once a month—but it did happen two days ago, when your friend announced the end of their relationship.”

“The Union? Why would they want our data?”

“Everyone wants your data. I would pay over the odds and with lives to get your data. It is my respect for you and your institution that stops me. The question is: what will they do with it?”

“Make more food.”

“Yes, in a good and morally led world.”

“Or sell it onto the highest bidder.”

“A more likely outcome in our morally corrupt world.”

“I’ll find out. Thanks, Pres. If this plays out, we are all square.”

“Talk to a reporter called Mana. He’s a sour son-of-a-bitch, but he’s been looking into the Transportation Union for a few months. He’s been smelling rats but can’t lay a trap. I’ll arrange a meet for you. Shunka, watch your back. You know that if something happens to the food supply, suddenly there will be a figurehead right here, a visible enemy for us all, and it will be the Farmers.”

“I know.” She bowed.

Pres called a waiter, who gestured back at the kitchen. A chef in his best whites emerged with a steaming hot takeout box in hand.

“Salt-and-pepper squid,” Pres said, “with extra pepper. Don’t forget to eat,” he patted his belly, “It’s got me to where I am.”

She winked at him as she spun away, salt-and-pepper squid in hand.

The night had set in. The street was still warm, loaded with the stifling heat of the day. She could feel the burn from the electric billboards singeing her face as she passed them on her bike. The stress of the day had taken its toll; she couldn’t ride as hard and fast as usual—too worried she’d make a mistake and make a long day longer.

Her EEG jolted her from her thoughts. Cheng was after his bacteria package. She wanted to talk to him but she knew he’d try and get involved, try to help, and probably start a small war. This was her problem and she wanted to deal with it her way—his little project would have to wait. She simply replied “not now.” She did something that she had not done in years—she logged out of her EEG.

The endless options of city living suddenly felt limited. Sadness cut through her like a razor. She knew tomorrow would be a big day. She returned home and locked the bacteria in her safe. Securing all the locks in her tiny flat, she felt safer and safer. She fell into her bed to rest before the lurking storm. She felt anger building deep within.