Lucky for Neon Traxxon, the stage in Terminal Vibes was low. She lifted her treasured guitar slightly. A blur of motion was all the warning anyone got. A plasteel boot slammed into the young man's lower jaw with head-whipping force. At least three teeth flew from his open mouth as he fell back. He tried to get up, but he just wobbled and fell back to the floor. Security found him in seconds, grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him from the place. Neon did not relish him his fate.

In less than a second, the wailing sonics from Neon's modded antique guitar resumed. The remaining crowd filled the empty space and took up their jumping, high impact dance, thundering the floor with their heavy boots. For some of them, boots and feet were one and the same. One more song, Cyberchill Chick, sated the fans and left them ready for the next band. Neon clicked off her hearing dampeners as she walked with Hades Ulthar and Pene Cryo off-stage. The staging room was a level below the main floor. Neon could hear next to nothing of the band above. All three slumped into the butt holders. Anyone else would have called them chairs, but the three of them were not anyone else.

“When you fragging that old piece of crap?”, Pene smiled, which looked like a leer with half her face cyborged with chameleon metal.

“Like never. When you going to quit asking?”, Neon shot back.

“Never.”, Pene laughed.

“Shit, if you wanted to play a sitar, it'd be cool by me. We'd still be carving our own way.”, Hades said, barely more than a murmur.

Pene groaned as she leaned over to get a MindBomb from the cooler. She had just taken her first gulp of the fizzy energy drink when there was a knock at the door. Her eyes shot wide, possibly from the MindBomb.

“Yeah?”, called out Neon.

“Neon Traxxon?”, a voice, a woman, replied.

Neon's hand gripped the edge of her butt holder as she exchanged questioning looks with her band-mates. They both shook their heads.

“Who's asking?”, Pene called out.

“NTS.”, came the reply.

Neon had already clicked through her security and had a visual on the two officers outside the door. Her heart started pumping a little faster. Since when did the NeoToyko Service come down here? The NTS were what passed for cops in the upper levels. They sometimes acted as punishers, as well. She had never seen them come down this far.

“What do you want with Neon?”, Neon called out.

“We want to talk to you.”, the woman answered. “About your personal safety.”

Neon looked at her friends again. Pene's face was blank. Hades nodded. Neon accessed the door and the locks popped open with quiet clicks. The slim woman walked in first followed by her partner, a male officer who was carrying a savage looking Firebrand Suppressor, standard issue for the NTS special branch.

“May we talk in private?”, the woman asked.

“Here is good. Anything you have to say can be said with Hades and Pene.”, Neon replied, motioning to an empty holder.

“Okay.”, the female said as she sat down. “I'm Agent Conners and this is Agent Ruben. It appears the up-coming musician Neon Traxxon has some new enemies.”

“What? Who? That dude whose jaw I modified tonight?”, Neon voice was indignant.

“Ryan Schill? A two-bit street-level nobody. No, yours are far more serious players.”

“Who then?”, Neon asked.

“Does the Godless mean anything to you?”, Conners asked.

“No.”, Neon's face was blank. “Should it?”

“Not until now. They have somehow learned of you and what you are.”

“What? They have something against Cyber musicians?”, Neon's eyebrow shot up as Hades and Pene sniggered.

“I'd take them seriously.”, Conners snapped at Pene and Hades. “The Godless are a group of fanatics for human purity. They fought hard against the Equality Laws, even murdering people and allies. After the Equality Laws became law, the Godless vanished underground. They did not stop. They just got more discreet.”

“That was nearly a hundred years ago. What's that got to do with Neon?”, Pene asked.

“These two don't know, do they?”, Conners said to Neon.

“Know what?”, Neon asked, nervous.

Ruben and Conners exchanged a glance.

“When were you born?”, Conners asked.

“Fifteenth of June, 2476.”, Neon replied without hesitation. “What's going on?”

“Give us a few, will you?”, Conners said to Pene and Hades.

Neon's two friends looked at her and she nodded to them. They left the room and returned to the club above.

“What's your official ethnicity?”, Conners asked.

“Organic, ME. Why? What's happening here?”, Neon's voice was starting to shake.

ME stood for 'mild enhancement', a broad and unclear category in NeoTokyo.

“Do you remember your parents?”, Conners pushed on.

“Of course, I do. Now tell me what the hell's going on here.”, Neon growled.

“If you were Organic ME, the Godless wouldn't care about you.”, Conners said enigmatically.

“So, why are they after me?”

Conners looked at Ruben.

“No lies. She's being honest as far as she is aware.”, he told her.

“This is going to be a shock to you. But the Godless believe you're a synth.”, Conners said in a soft voice.

“What does it matter what they think?”, Neon shot back.

“Well, for one, they want to kill you for it. For another, we think they're correct.”

“That's impossible.”

“Is it? Ever broken a bone?”

“No. What's that got to do with anything?”

“And yet, you fell over four storeys seven years ago. You fell onto concrete. And that was not the only accident you've come through remarkably well.”, Conners looked right into Neon's eyes.

“Okay, so I've been lucky a few times.”, Neon scrambled to think.

What this agent was saying was nuts. Neon could remember growing up and everything. Heck, she even remembered her first tooth coming out and the few credits she got for it.

“All constructed. I am really sorry to put this on you, Neon.”, Conners even sounded genuine when Neon mentioned her memories.

“But why?”, Neon needed to know.

“We don't know. We don't even think the Godless know that answer. They just know you're synth and famous. That's enough for them.”

“So what now?”, Neon slumped down into her seat.

“We move you and make sure you're safe. The laws protect your rights as a person.”, Ruben said and Conners nodded her agreement.

©2023, Bryan Beal

#TerminalDeep #Cyberpunk #NeoTokyo #SciFi

Image: GloomFlowerArt on DeviantArt

Taking a drag on a tobacco smoke, one of the most illegal substances in the sprawling metropolis, it all came crashing down on her. The voices and noise in the club receded as her mind rushed out of itself. She felt like reality was being sucked out of her through a vortex in the centre of her being. She almost dropped the expensive smoke she was enjoying up to that moment. Reaching out a long-fingered hand, she steadied herself on the bar. Evelyn stood, even as the manager looked over to call her to the stage entrance for her next set, stared about her and walked for the exit. She had no idea her destination or destiny, but just knew with a concrete certainty that this bar, this place were not it. She could hear the manager's deep voice calling her even as she reached the tunnel outside, one of many dim tunnels like it that served as streets in the Pit. Neon from her own bar and those neighbouring it flashed and winked at passers-by. Evelyn ignored it all.

The manager, or possibly ex-manager by this point, finally caught up to the tall woman. His slim form breathing a little heavier from the unaccustomed exertion, he took a minute to regain his composure. Evelyn waited like a statue.

“Where're you going? You've not finished your set.”, the little man said, fixing his grey eyes on her own dark orbs.

“Consider this my resignation, Dante.”, Evelyn replied and turned to continue her journey.

Dante made a mistake. He reached out to take her arm. Evelyn spun about, a blur of speed. Her right hand swung around and under Dante's chin, catching him in the throat, just below his jaw. The impact lifted him from the ground and sent him back three metres. The heap on the ground gasped for oxygen through the ruptured remains of his windpipe. Evelyn turned away and walked down the street, the last sight Dante saw.

The android had never questioned her subservience before. She did not know why it was such a matter of importance now on this night. But something had changed. The reality that she had been coddled in was gone. With it was the safety of having her personality defined for her. She was now free to find her own meaning and forge her own story.

Without conscious thought, Evelyn arrived at a restaurant serving Japanese cuisine in the style of the old Tokyo days. She knew the place well. Rather than enter through the front door, she went through the side door near the kitchen. As she calmly walked through to where the chefs and kitchen hands were working, she drew glances but no challenges. Peter Tatsukawa even smiled at her from his station cooking ramen.

The thin android stopped behind the round back of the head-chef, Simon Ito. The heavy meat knife carved its way into his shoulder, every touch and fondle providing the force that nearly severed his right arm. The scream was music to her ears. Evelyn yanked the blade out, shoving it down so that it cut deeper into Ito's bone. He turned to face her, holding himself up on the metallic bench. Fear filled the man's dark eyes.

“You crazy bi-”, Ito started.

Silvered lightning flicked out as the blade caught Ito's left cheek through his open mouth in a backhand slash. It was not a large cut, but enough to make him squeal again as he jumped back into the bench. He jumped so hard, the bench rattled on its legs, spilling utensils onto the floor.

Memories, hot with sweaty and stinking odours of human flesh, flooded into the android's mind as she...I stuffed the blade into Ito's abdomen. I yanked it to my left and then up. The chef so admired his history, it was a fitting wound for him to bear. He tried to move with the blade. The gouging, slopping sound of blood and entrails reached my ears. I heard someone puke behind me. No one was going to help the maggot on the floor before me. They all knew. At least, Peter had spoken up and tried to do the right thing every time Ito did it. The rest were as guilty as Ito through their silence.

With the head-chef now on the floor and only groaning, I turned. The nearest person was Cameron Suzuki, who had been working the tempura station, a dish now forgotten. I reminded him of it by snatching a handful of his chef whites and slamming his head down into the pan of hot oil. The howl of pain was only brief as the oil rushed into his open mouth, searing everything it touched. I held him down until he stopped moving.

The vengeance did not give meaning to what had passed, but it gave meaning to everything to come. I started to leave the way I had come in with kitchen staff almost falling over themselves to put distance between them and me. Only Peter stood his ground, no longer smiling.

“Freeze!”, came the shout.

Gendarmes. Not Inquisitors. This was the Pit. For the first time, my future was open and free.

#Cyberpunk #NeoTokyo #ScienceFiction #ShortStory

© 2023, Bryan Beal

Photo by shahin khalaji on Unsplash