“So, who’s your fancy little input?”
“Right, right.” Ken cleared his throat, still swaying slightly. “Vik, this is Lucy. Lucy, meet Viktor Vektor. The best ripperdoc I have ever known.”
“How many ripperdoc you know again?” Lucy asked. Despite the short time they interacted she could already imagine his answer.
“Eh... 2, but...” Ken nervously touched his hair. 2 didn’t exactly summon confidence, if he counted the ripperdoc signs in his World Map, probably 7 already?
“Pfft, best among the 2 ripperdocs are hardly comparable. But I have heard of Viktor.”
“Calling me best is overselling.” Viktor gave her the same quick, clinical once-over he'd once given Ken. “Never seen your face in here before.”
“Wouldn’t have. I tried getting a slot with you for months.” Lucy's tone stayed level, but there was an edge under it. “Sent messages. Offered good eddies. Never got so much as a read receipt.”
“Don’t remember, but most likely ain’t about eddies.” Viktor didn’t break rhythm on the cables, entirely unbothered. “I don’t take in complete strangers. Don’t take cold messages, don’t care how many zeroes are attached. Referral only, and only from people I actually trust not to send trouble through my door along with the client.”
“And he,” Lucy jerked a thumb at Ken, “got a referral how, exactly?”
“Introduced by an old friend.” Viktor replied casually, the way it had when Ken pushed too hard on a subject once before. “Learned the hard way what happens when I don’t screen who walks in. Cost me more than eddies. Not doing that twice.”
Lucy didn't push further on it, which told Ken more than if she had, whatever “cost him more than eddies” meant, it was clearly the kind of thing you let a man keep to himself the first time you heard it.
“So who do you run with,” Ken asked instead, mostly to fill the silence, “that couldn't get you a foot in the door?”
“People who might bring gang heat to his door?” Lucy said it without a trace of shame, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like the observation cost her nothing. “Guess that answers that but he probably ignored me because I didn’t have his referral.”
Viktor snorted, plugging the smaller diagnostic lead in as Ken reflexively caught his wrist before it could stray toward the full-body scanner.
“Not that one.”
“I've scanned you before, kid.”
“Yeah, and last time you side-eyed me over it. Just the Sandy stuff. I think I lost count...”
“Your input good with hearing this,” he said, chin tilting toward Lucy, “or should I clear the room?”
“Eh, not sure... Feel free to ask, Vik,” Ken said, “but if she wants to listen in, I don’t think either of us can actually stop her.”
“Smart boy,” Lucy said, eyes closed, entirely unbothered.
“What does that mean?”
“She is rather... I mean, maybe a somewhat skilled netrunner?” Yeah, a somewhat skilled netrunner who could fry the shop. For a moment, he once again realized the ridiculousness of it. Maybe they were two people with the same name?
Lucy snorted on the side.
“Talk to me,” Viktor said, already reading the first numbers off the lead. “What’d you do.”
“Ran Sandy a bit much tonight. Got carried away in excitement. Didn’t realize I was overusing Sandy.” He left the number vague. “Probably just aggravated whatever’s still healing from last time.”
Viktor's eyes flicked to the readout, then to Ken, and stayed there a beat too long.
“Around how many exactly? Five or six?” he repeated, flat.
“Give or take.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t argue it. Which was somehow worse than if he had. He passed the tablet to Ken and pointed. “Okay, look here. You see this area? The blue lines are your nerve connection with Sandy. Now, this one was when I took your reading during the check up, look at this one now,” Viktor swiped to a different picture. “You see this one? What difference do you notice?”
“Uh, the number of nerve connections increased by a lot?”
“Yeah, and you remember what I said during the checkup?”
“If you mean about being done syncing with Sandy, yes.” Ken remembered that.
“Right, let me explain it in a way you can understand. So most cyberwares have a great number of extra nerve connectors because not all human brains work the same.”
“Yeah, I know that much.”
“Good. But what you don’t know is your body connecting, or trying to connect to all the connection points this Sandy has and thanks to its size, that’s a massive number. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
“You’re saying I have the makings of a chrome junkie?” That was the only conclusion he reached with all the books he read on the subject.
“...I’m saying you have great compatibility with Sandy.” Not that what Ken said was wrong, but Vik definitely didn’t want to say that to his face. It would only peg him to recklessly upgrade with new chromes. “Have you felt any changes compared to your activation before and now?”
“Well the time dilation is almost twice of what it was at the start.” Ken said, then caught himself, “Wait, you don’t mean it can go higher.”
“I doubt.” Viktor started. “Nerve connection only makes it better for you to handle the stress it causes on the body, not endlessly strengthen the chrome’s effect. For what we know, you might’ve already reached the peak it can give you. But it also consumes a lot of bioenergy. Be sure to eat healthier and take in more calories.”
Ken nodded. It was one of the reasons he bought the cafeteria membership.
Viktor turned, dug through a drawer, and came back with a small matte-black canister, no branding, a single stenciled biohazard glyph and a strip of yellow warning tape wound twice around the trigger.
“Zetatech medbay surplus. One-time nasal inhaler. Kickstarts clotting, dumps a stim cocktail to shut down whatever your brain's still doing to itself.” He pressed it into Ken's palm and closed his fingers over it, hard. “One use. You need a second, you come back here instead of pulling the trigger twice. The crash on the back end puts you flat for a day, and I’m not in the business of finding you unconscious in an alley because you got excited again.”
“Copy that.”
“I mean it, kid.” Then he turned to Lucy, “Bring your girlfriend to visit here sometime.”
“I’m not his girlfriend. He was too pitiful on the road so had to pick him up.” Lucy said curtly.
“Now don’t be so cold. I see how the kid looks at you. He is somewhat slow, but good at heart, give him a chance. Besides, he needs someone to keep him on a leash. This is already the third time he visits me this week.”
“He’s a kitten, why leash him like a dog.”
“Hahaha, then maybe you can give him some treats? Visit again.” Viktor seemed genuinely pleased with Lucy’s reaction.
“You two, I don’t have a kitten face!” Ken grumbled on the side.
““You do!”” These two were in sync.
Ken eyed them like they personally betrayed him.
The night air outside Little China had cooled by the time they left, neon bleeding soft and orange off the wet pavement. Ken pocketed the inhaler like it was made of glass.
“So,” Lucy said, falling into step beside him, hands on her back. “You said something about your ripper being scary.”
“Trust me, that’s Viktor being extra nice thanks to you.”
“He is a teddy bear.”
“He looks at me like he was deciding whether to fix me or dissect, ok? Fifty-fifty most nights.” Ken exhaled, some of the day’s adrenaline finally draining out of him, leaving behind the particular hollow tiredness that came after a long shift of being someone else. “Thanks, by the way. For dragging me there. I probably would’ve just... walked it off. Badly.”
“I wasn’t doing you a favor. Dead partners don’t split percentages.”
“Sure. Purely financial.”
“Purely.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, and Ken liked to take the other meaning her words didn’t convey.
“So,” Lucy said. “Months of trying, and this Carla girl just walks you right in.”
“In my defense, we only officially met today.”
“Doesn’t make it less annoying.”
“From what he said you’re already welcome, if it helps.”
“Didn’t you hear him? He is not operating on me unless you bring me here. Like I’m your kept little girl or something.” She said it fast enough that it almost sounded like reflex rather than pride. “And I don’t need Arasaka-boy vouching for me to a ripper I already know by reputation.”
‘Vik is acting as my wingman? How do I repay this favor???’
As Ken wondered how to repay Vik for this impossible favor of lifetime, they walked another block in something close to comfortable silence. Past a shuttering noodle stand, past a preacher-bot looping the same three verses to an empty corner.
Then Lucy stopped, glanced sideways at him, and something in her posture shifted, like she’d made an important decision.
“C'mon,” she said. “My place isn’t far. You look like you need to sit somewhere that isn’t a train or an operating chair.”
Ken blinked. “Is this a date now? Because earlier you were very firm about–”
“It’s a recovery stop. Don’t read into it.”
“I’m reading into it a little.”
“Read quieter, then.”
As they climbed the stairs, Ken gave up. The RED World Map unfurled before, and he realized for the first time, it could actually turn 3D. From the location, they were just one step away from that specific marked door of Lucyna Kushinada’s Apartment.
“Right here.” Lucy pointed at the door. Now, let’s face it. Ken tried to run away from reality, but yeah, this girl around his age was indeed the 2nd ranked Netrunner according to his RED System.
Ken hesitated. “You, uh... live alone?”
“That’s right. Why?”
“Hhmmm.” Ok, emergency problem. At this point it might really lead to the baby-making sequence!
“Wait, are you nervous?” Her tone had that playful edge that Ken absolutely didn’t like.
“No!” he replied a bit too fast.
“First time in a girl’s home?”
“No.” His tone was as neutral as he could manage. He blamed it entirely on the world map. Putting dirty ideas in his mind.
Lucy gave him her playful look and entered the room.
“Hey, what gives!” Ken followed behind her while grumbling.
Her apartment was similar to the one he lived before, just better. A mismatched shelf of cheap trinkets. A half-dead potted plant that had clearly survived through spite alone.
And on the wall above a narrow bed, taped slightly crooked, a faded advertisement–some off-world colonization outfit, glossy photo of pale craters under a black sky, the kind of ad that ran on repeat in the transit tunnels and that everyone had stopped actually seeing years ago.
Ken looked at it a beat too long.
“What.” Lucy tossed him a can from the mini-fridge, something cheap and carbonated that wasn’t quite beer and wasn’t quite not. “Never seen a poster before?”
“No, it's–sorry, just.” He turned the can over in his hands, not opening it yet. “Kind of a weird thing to have up. The moon.”
Something in her expression cooled, just a degree, expression changing back to that of a neutral, maybe even darker. “Weird... how?”
“I don’t mean it like–” He caught himself, actually thought about it this time instead of just talking. “I mean it’s nice. I mean, just always whacked me how the ads make it seem like a paradise. With how corpos do their thing, even breathing there must cost you good eddies.
“People think of it like a paradise, but with even the freedom of breathing taken from you it feels like a hell to me than a real hell.”
The guard eased, fractionally. She climbed to the windowsill, just behind the sofa he sat on, popped her can, and just relaxed.
The silence seemed to stretch for a moment.
“Sounds like someone who did their research.” She breathed, lighting up her cig.
“Well, the Academy teaches you stuff that’s not available to the public, and the rest comes from interested students. Apparently a lot died trying to make that dumb rock more livable.”
“As expected of a ‘Saka academy young master.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it? Never scanned a pleb attending ‘Saka school.”
“What about me? Do I look like a high-up position corpo kid to you? Using BudgetWares just a week ago.”
“Hmm. Even going to ‘Saka school makes you a bonafide young master.” Her tone had that judging weight.
“It’s really not like that!” Ken’s voice rose a pitch, he opened the can and took a big sip.
Wrong choice again. He coughed it out, but forced his voice through.
“My family’s not well off. The academy might as well have been a far off dream. Mom worked real damn hard to keep me in. But you see, I already knew from the first day, I’d never truly belong there...” Ken could feel that day surface in front of him. Despite their kind words, their eyes always looked at him as if he was something dirty.
“Then why stick so long. You’re in your third year, no?”
“Impossible. Mom wanted me to have ‘Saka job. She was convinced for some reason that I could climb the corporate ladder. That was her dream, I guess... or our dream?” Yeah, he himself was not that sure anymore.
Not that he was ever.
“That’s not your dream, though. Is it?” Lucy from the windowsill leaned on his shoulder.
“My dream?” David Martinez, Gloria Martinez, and Ken Takakura... Well, he was Ken Martinez now... So, part Ken, part Martinez? Or something else entirely? “I'm not even sure who I am anymore, let alone what my dream is.”
“Hm, sounds serious, you need to find your own dream and eventually, you will find yourself.”
“Is it important to have a dream?” He guessed there were several he could identify as dreams. Having a friend, being an edgerunner, climbing the corpo ladder, all of them were dreams, no? Then he already achieved one of his dreams and was already aiming for the other ones? “Enough about me, you speak like you find yours.”
At that, Lucy stared at the ‘Lunar Colonization’ poster of hers.
“That’s...” Ken was speechless for a moment. He turned to her and their eyes met, face just inches away. Ken suddenly became conscious of their proximity. “You seem, I mean, feel like someone who absolutely hates the idea of her free space being invaded. Let alone giving away the right to breathe.”
“You called it a prison, or was it hell? But to me, this city is a lot worse.” She moved to the window-side, eyeing the neon-lit city.
“This city?”
“I wanna go away from here. As far as possible.”
“Is it because of...” Ken felt weak and couldn’t muster the courage to speak of Arasaka’s name. Because he was sure it was them. Yet, without a speck of idea on how to go about it.
“C’mon. I’ve something good to show you.”
“Hm?”
“You get to actually stand there instead of just hearing me describe it badly.”
“Stand where?”
Lucy held up the chip between two fingers, the low light catching the edge of it like a tiny, captured piece of something much larger.
“Where do you think?”
Lucy pulled out a pair of wreaths and fixed one on her temple.
Ken almost laughed at it. Because of a lousy wreath, so many things happened. This wreath was even better than the one he got for 900 eddies. He got absorbed in thought while Lucy synchronized both of their wreaths before the BD pulled them inside.
{Alt Titles: My Dream? Her Dream.; The Moon Was Never About the Moon.; Apparently My First Visit to a Girl's Apartment Wasn't a Date; The Number Two Netrunner Took Me Home Instead; Even My Ripperdoc Started Shipping Us; Why Does Everyone Keep Calling Me a Kitten?; The Moon Is Just an Excuse to Escape This City; Apparently My Dream Isn't My Own; She Called It a Recovery Stop; The Strongest Netrunner Dreamed of the Quietest Place; Viktor Somehow Became My Wingman; }