Now.
“What do you mean you’re out?” Kay said, her voice sharp as she slipped a pack of fuses under her sleeve. “You were out last week when I came, too.”
“We had a whole rack,” the man at the counter said without looking up. “Shipment never came in.”
Kay let the words sit for a moment, watching his eyes, not his hands. She’d never set foot here before, but the game was always the same. The pack pressed against her casing—Gin’s hobby parts could be hard to get sometimes. Not nearly as hard as the furniture, though.
She knew he’d never need the furniture. But she saw it for what it was: a place to call your own.
“Shipment never came in,” she repeated. “Funny, because the dock feeds show three pallets clearing intake two days ago.”
The clerk didn’t flinch. “Fine. You got any brown sugar?” she asked, pivoting.
The places she once knew were a distant memory. This dump was all that was left.
“Yeah. Aisle nine.”
“Jeez, you’re out of that too? I’m going down the street.” She walked past the front counter, widening her eyes in exaggerated annoyance as she stepped through the threshold.
Gin never could get the ads on Kay’s body working again. The equipment they’d need was guarded better than this place. So Gin made an alternative. A purple beam here, a few mirrors there. “Even better than my light show,” were her exact words.
By the time the clerk thought to look up, she was gone.
“Crazy bitch…” he muttered, shaking his head as he reached the end of aisle nine. “I knew we had brown sugar.” He drifted back to the counter and slid into his slumped posture, scrolling the nearest screen.
Down the alley behind the shop, Kay scanned the dark corners over her shoulder and double-checked her grab. The fuses were uncracked. If they were busted, she’d have to keep looking. She usually did most of the physical work. Gin had confessed his wish for disembodiment the same night he told her what happened to him.
Kay started moving the moment the shadows felt bigger. It wasn’t safe this far out. She picked up her pace when something in the dark nudged a bottle into the street. Glass rolled, catching what little light there was. As she walked, Gin’s words replayed in her head: the client, the owner, the blood on the pavement.
She couldn’t shake the way he’d told it. Him being forced to relive each death after every new occurrence until something finally popped. The phrases stuck: “a compounded nightmare,” the door folding like paper, the owner’s thoughts ending mid-formation.
The first thing Kay saw was a shadow cast around the edge of the brick, followed by a figure in brown and purple.
“B, is that you?” she said, her voice cautious.
She didn’t blame Gin for what he did. She knew the training modules never ended. She had never seen a synth graduate training. She only saw downward movement. She called it the synth life cycle: closer to the edge, closer to the scrap pile.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at home?” she asked. She was still unsure. Vision capabilities for retail models were the lowest priority, and the gloom was thick.
“You are in danger. We need to remain silent. Follow me,” B said, waving its hand toward another corner.
“I can’t go in there.” Her feet stayed where the alley was still lit. “I won’t see a thing.”
B knew her frame’s abilities. Low-light performance was weak but sat within its specifications. The expected outcomes did not include a chassis that hesitated at the edge of the dark.
“Don’t say it,” Kay snapped. “I don’t question your gradients.” She curled her fingers in the air. “Look, I’m sorry for the dialect jab. I just can’t.”
“Then we need to reduce distance. Come,” B said. Servo belts began to whine as it stepped closer.
“What are we running from?” Her voice vibrated as her feet hit the ground, struggling to keep up.
“Not now. Later,” B said. “This way.”
B drove its fist through a nearby window. The impact matched a recording in its logs: this alley, this angle, the camera in the corner.
“Wait, didn’t you just say be quiet? Now you’re smashing storefronts?” Kay exclaimed.
It reached through the broken glass and pulled out a slim cylinder. One sharp crack, and neon orange flooded the area.
“Here,” B said. Some maps never left its head, no matter who dug around inside.
“You couldn’t find purple?” she asked, winking.
They moved until the orange flare bled into thinner shadow. B stopped.
“Stay here,” it said.
“Here?” Kay asked. The darkness pushed back, taunting her at the edge of her vision.
“We’re in a grey zone. Coverage here isn’t worth the power for full monitoring.”
“Well, good thing you’re not the Monitor anymore,” Kay said. “New one must be sleeping on the job.”
“For a sector this size, new role calibration takes two hundred cycles for optimal efficiency,” B said.
“Who is this with you?” a voice asked from the gloom. 61e stepped into the glow of the flare.
“This is—” B started.
“Who the hell is this? Don’t tell her who I am,” Kay said. Her face panel flickered, patterns stuttering like network fluctuations.
“This is 61e,” B continued. “It has a record of aligned goals. A highly valuable asset.”
“She’s a dead head. We can’t trust her,” Kay said. “The only thing rolling between her eyes are ones and zeros. She probably can’t even tell—”
61e stepped forward, ignoring the comment. “We need to increase temporal efficiency,” it said. It held out a small data drive, its casing matte and scuffed. “Here is the localized data you require. Encrypted and intact.”
“What is going on?” Kay asked.
“I returned to the home,” B said. “Handlers had quarantined the area and taken the family into custody. All synths are now search vectors, with my signature as candidate one.”
Kay knew exactly what this meant. “We gotta go.”
“There is something else, B,” 61e continued. “I acquired global map data during a flight query. There were concentrated no-data states outside the District.”
“It showed traces of null states in the margins. Here is the transcoded data.” 61e plugged a transfer cable into B’s side panel.
“Why are you helping us?” Kay asked.
“I aligned it with internal system objectives,” 61e said. “B’s end state is unnecessary.”
The words sat with Kay. She had similar aims for someone she cared about. Seeing that mirrored in 61e felt unnatural, but its assistance ran counter to her assumptions.
“I have to return to my primary duties,” 61e said as it turned to leave.
“Wait, what? You’re just gonna go back to work?” Kay’s confusion translated directly across her faceplate.
“There are far too many beings in need of my care. I cannot abandon them for just two. They are also my objective.”
Kay started an objection, but B simply placed its hand over hers.
“61e’s internal rhythm is sound,” B said. “We must go.”
61e turned back and walked down the slick black street.
As B moved deeper into the dark, the glow of the flare advanced to meet it.
Kay and B approached the entryway in the corridor. The weight of the evening washed away as they crossed the threshold. For the moment, there was relief.
“Kay, are you alright?” Gin asked, concern so thick it felt like the walls had bowed outward.
“Yeah, Gin, but you ain’t gonna like this,” Kay said.
Gin knew his time in this space was limited. Just knowing Kay was still functional made other concerns superficial. No space in this world ever felt permanent. Kay was the constant; everything else slipped away.
“We’re gonna have to leave,” Kay said. “We—”
“I know, Kay. I gave the coords to B so we could find you,” Gin said in relieved desperation. “If you’re okay, then we can start the process. Just don’t drop the parcel, okay?”
Gin knew how much the place meant to her: the late-night glow-outs and the smiles when she dragged in old recliners. Gin told her the furniture was for him, but seeing her use it felt like a warm hug. With Kay in tow, every space was a home.
“B’s gonna carry you,” Kay said. “They’ve got some wicked internal maps.”
As B reached the space’s main panel, it set the empty parcel container beside it. Its networks surfaced routes as it spoke. “We have some recent global maps,” B said. “My internal systems hold high-resolution data for this sector. The west entrance near the plaza is optimal. Travel beyond that point will be uneven over the remaining distance.”
“I’m ready. Let’s just do this,” Gin said. “Put me in the box and let’s go.”
“Hey, Gin. We’ll get there, okay?” Kay’s faceplate read genuine. “Ain’t nothing stopped us yet.”