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Of all 16 Districts of Khalo, Cho had something a bit special. Sure, it was seedy and a bit rough around the edges, dirty, rude people, but it had a certain charm that reminded me of old photos from Earth. Gloomy cities with neon signs and little nooks everywhere with someone serving fried food or selling trinkets. The only thing missing was weather. It was never colder than 15 degrees and, except for that one time a micrometeorite storm peppered the main wastewater junction, it was always dry. The people were mostly friendly in a ‘we’re all in this shithole together, let’s make the most of it’ kind of way. Being on the opposite end of the station from Drophaus, the docking district, Cho was favoured by truckers looking to get as far away from their ships as possible for whatever time they had here. The vibe was a strange mix of camaraderie and every-man-for-himself mentality. Living was cheap, walls were thin, and everyone was looking to rack up some credit. If they had to screw someone over to get it, fine. As the graffiti outside my locker read, ‘Credit is King.’
I woke up to the sound of my neighbour shouting at her grandson. It was almost 5H. By the sound of it, he was just getting home and didn’t much care that his Nana had been up all night worried sick. He had friends and he wasn’t going to give them up to stop her worrying. Interesting how similar Earth and Luksha family dynamics turned out to be. Lukshae generally mate for life, have a couple of kids, exhaust themselves trying to turn rebellious teens into functional adults and then retire somewhere warm. They don’t have marriage, or anything inherently religious, but they’re very spiritual and have beliefs about an afterlife, of sorts. Their spirits merge with the cosmic river they call De’na.
A door slammed shut and music started blaring. I rolled out of my bunk and into my kitchen. It was way earlier than I liked to get up. And I was grumpy about it. It wasn’t the first time Sonny-Jim next door had angered Nana by staying out too late.
Khalo had a 30-hour day/night cycle. The Bond government came up with the system to create a happy medium for humans and lukshae. On Luksha the days are 10 r’nel (almost 38 Earth hours) long. So, since humans would lose their minds or something if the days were as long as that, Khalo Time was implemented. 30 Earth hours. 17 light, 3 twilight(ish), 10 dark. Most people were fine with it after a while, but you could tell who was relatively new to Khalo and still getting a hang of the cycle. They got a little twitchy. Lukshae were altogether more relaxed about it.
By 8H, Cora was at my door. I looked at the data panel next to the door. The display showed a live feed of Cora’s head and shoulders, looking right at the lens. I thumbed the talkback button.
“Yes? Can I help you?” I asked the talking head.
“Why yes, good sir, you could buy me some breakfast.” She said with a smile. I tapped the green square and the door slid to the side into its pocket.
“Ahh, of course, Madame. Will it be the eggs benedict or the full English?”
“I believe I’ll try the eggs this morning.”
I thought about asking her how she was feeling about the Del situation but I decided against it. She seemed like she was in a good mood, no reason to ruin it. I slung my coat over my shoulder and closed the door of my locker behind me.
***
We sat side by side on the stools outside ‘Khalo Kibble’ idly chatting over Koffee™ and breakfast. Cora had broached the subject of how we could create a distraction and get to the wreckage of Del’s stall, or if it was better to wait til the heat had died down. After some back and forth, we decided to wait at least until the explosion was off the newsfeed. A screen poised in a high corner of the forecourt relentlessly chattered through the same stories over and over again. Something about Dr Marie Allard, a former employee of Neotec who’d been defaming the corp very publicly. It seemed that her house had been destroyed in a ‘gas leak explosion’ on Earth.
How convenient for Neotec. I thought, wryly.
A piece on the ongoing protests in Sheim, condemning the Bond governments’ choke hold on the residents of Khalo. A chyron identified the anchor as Geraldine Peters, who always seemed to appear when there was any kind of civil unrest. The protests had been going on for a couple of days. At first, it was a small group of activists with signs that read ‘Free Khalo’ and ‘Bondage, not Bond-age’, and belted the same messages from the small but powerful bullhorn speakers that adorned them. Now, it had swelled into a quiet revolution, taking over a significant thoroughfare in downtown Sheim. There seemed to be a fair amount of anti-Khal-Sec sentiment too. They’d taken a lot of criticism over the last cycle, never really being portrayed in the media in a positive light.
I wonder if there is someone in the Khalo infosphere with a chip on their shoulder against Khal-Sec. Maybe there are several. It wouldn’t surprise me.
The security footage of Del’s ruined stall and the same interview with a square-jawed Khal-Sec captain played on repeat too, subtitled while the virtual anchor droned the other happenings on the station. A banner ran along the bottom of the screen with numbers in red and green, denoting what seemed to be the fluctuating exchange rates between Earth, Luksha and Khalo credit values. Khalo credit may as well be monopoly money. It only has value here because everyone here agreed it should. Like cigarettes in an old prison. Khalo’s economy essentially functions as a microcosm of Earth’s, separate in every conceivable way but the governments still speak about it as if they have some measure of control over it.
“Want me to come with you to cash in with Tanaka?” Cora asked.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. We’re still on time and the drive’s intact. He should be pleased.”
“If he hasn’t heard about the bar brawl you started.”
“I didn’t start it! I just took advantage of it” I said with a grin.
“Mhm. Ok, well I’m gonna get a head start on recon for this Ferro guy. Meet you for dinner at The Ritz?”
“Sounds good.” I laughed. Cora smiled and left. There was still a sadness or tension about her, as much as she tried to hide it. It was obvious she was still worried about Del.
I finished my egg and Sossage™ breakfast bap and held my wrist on the console. The steward with several face tattoos and metal eyebrows nodded his thanks and raised a hand with the index finger folded down. I awkwardly nodded my approval and left without a word, kind of confused.
As I walked away from KK, two bodies flanked me and drove me into a nook behind the neighbouring bar. They threw me against the bulkhead and clocked me with something solid when I bounced back towards them.
I hit the ground hard.
My ears were ringing.
The silhouettes of two bulky bipeds grabbed me and hauled me somewhere.
***
I was somewhere loud.
Then somewhere quiet.
Then I was being dragged through somewhere narrow. The toes of my boots scraped and bounced along the steel waffle iron as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Images flash in my memory. Long shifts in focus, diving down into the verticality beyond the metal grate, made my stomach turn and I voluntarily shut my eyes tight. When I opened them again I was in front of a tall bulkhead, covered from top to bottom in graffiti. It was almost impossible to pick out any one piece, but a clearly recent piece stuck out. It’s bright yellow paint almost projecting it from the wall.
We can see the way the wind is blowing.
We can see the writing on the wall.
What’s coming is the answer.
What’s coming is The Fall.
I didn’t know then, but it was seared into my memory. I considered, idly, at one point that I was awake enough to maybe fight my way to an escape but I don’t remember what happened next. Maybe I had tried and been well and truly knocked out.
When I came to, I was lying on my side on a faux leather, high-backed bench at the back of a bar. I could hear people behind the booth but I couldn’t tell how many. There was music playing. Blues.
Shit.
“Good Mornin’, En. I been waitn’ on a call from you. You avoidn’ me or sump’n?” Liv said in her southern drawl.
Shit. Shit.
“Of course not, Liv. I’ve just been busy getting my affairs in order to repay that loan.” I put on my most winningest smile but it hurt my face so I’m not sure it came off very well.
Liv made an expression of empathy. She didn’t feel it. “I do hope ma boys didn’t rough ya up too much, did they?”
“Not at all.” They did. “Though, if they had just asked, I would’ve come to see you of my own accord,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant as I massaged my cheekbone.
“Now, En. Ya know I don’t much like being lied to.” She raised a hand to silence my protest and extended her index finger towards my face. “You’re 3 days overdue. Which means you’re into emergency interest.” Now her tone was much less maternal. “Now, you borrowed five thousand credits from me and agreed to ma terms includin’ the 10% rate of interest. 3 days of emergency interest brings the total you owe up to…” She carried the 1 in her head. “Sixty-one hundred credits.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. 200 credits a day?!
“Come on, Liv, that seems a little extr–”
She slammed the table hard enough to make the glassware rattle.
“Don’t tell me how to run ma business, Mr Hagen.” She took a breath. “Now I like you, En, I really do, you seem like a good kid. But business is business. I don’t loan out money outta the kindness of ma own heart. I do it cuz I’m in a position to make more money out of it. And when that part dudn’ come around, well, I need to take payment in other ways.”
She leaned forward
“You read much history, En?”
“No.”
“Well, lemmetellya,” She said, more conversationally than threateningly. “folks on Earth back in the day knew howta make an example outta someone. And, hell, they knew howta make it hurt too.”
A moment of silence passed between us as she let the insinuation sink in.
I looked around the room and saw the muscle that brought me here, along with a few more watching our conversation. One was standing on the other side of a partition, bright white kitchen lights behind her, sharpening a santoku. I wasn’t sure if it was an idle threat or if she was the chef. We were in a bar that served food after all. Although, I didn’t ever want to eat there.
“Do we understand one another, Mr Hagen?” The threat was clear enough.
“Yes, Liv.” The way she was looking at me gave me a bad feeling in my gut. I would’ve said anything at that moment if it meant I could get the fuck out of there.
“Good.” She nodded, then her demeanour bounced back to friendly and maternal. “Now, go on and bring me that money ya owe me. There’s a good boy.” I felt the knot in my stomach loosen, but only slightly.
Liv made a gesture to her ‘employees’ and they stepped to either side of the door. I had been here before when I borrowed the money from Liv in the first place, but I had never really noticed the decor. Reminiscent of Earth. 20th-century America, I think. There were framed photographs with signatures on them of people holding various instruments. I even recognised a few of them. Guitars and saxophones and trumpets hung in alcoves above booths similar to the one I’d just been in, high-backed, faux leather benches with rectangular, dark wood tables. The floor was black and white tiles and, everywhere there was space, tall, circular tables stood circled by tall, circular stools. The long bar lined one side of the room and looked stocked with any kind of booze you could imagine. The bartender eyed me, warily, as I walked past and out the front doors.
The light outside was brighter, and the air was cleaner than anywhere in Cho. I could even see the Heart when I looked up.
I was in Redstone. I had vaguely thought as much, but this was confirmation, nonetheless. I turned to see the facade of the building. The arched doors of black glass bore elaborate, single letters in white. C on the left, E on the right. A sign jutted out into eyeline in the shape of an old guitar, neon lettering hugging the curve of the body read ‘Chez Elle’, and more down the neck, where the strings should be, ‘Blues Bar’.
Chez Elle. Her place. Everybody knew who she was. And I’d just pissed her off.
Smart.
The wide street bustled around me as people dodged into the doorways of bars, restaurants, and boutiques, all laid out on multiple levels, staggered so as to let in as much light from the heart as possible. Redstone was as much the commercial district as anywhere on Khalo. Between it and Franko, the tourists and daytrippers were covered.
Tourism wasn’t huge on the station but it was big enough the the rich folks from Earth could come and splash some cash for a couple weeks before getting back on their luxury yachts or cruise ships back to Earth or onwards to Luksha.
Anyway, here I was, 10km from my home district and from cashing in my contract with Tanaka. And now I was on a 200c-a-day clock.
I started walking with purpose towards the nearest tramstop. Chez Elle was on the corner of a plaza a few levels up, so I made my way through a boutique selling expensive perfume, drawing questioning looks from the our-shit-don’t-stink crowd that could usually be found in any given Redstone store. On the other side, an escalator zig-zagged me downwards to the ‘ground’. From there it was a five-minute powerwalk to catch a tram back to Cho. I pushed the thought aside that I’d have to make this exact same journey in reverse later if I wanted to avoid an extra 200c on my bill to Liv.
The tram was twelve minutes late, busy, and smelled terrible. I stood close to the door and held onto the overhead bar to keep from falling into the next guy at every stop. He was sweaty and, I’m pretty sure, the source of the terrible smell. There were probably a lot of contributing bodies in the aluminium tramcar but this guy was too close to me and really sweaty. It was too much.
A half-hour later, the tramcar came to a stop on Cho’s main thoroughfare. It should’ve been sooner but, surprise, surprise, there was a delay on the way through Vacko. An apparent emergency situation in the water recycling centre which, for some reason, meant the tram couldn’t pass through. I made a mental note to prepare for some water rationing. Downtown Cho was just as busy as the cramped tramcar but at least the air scrubbers were working. I made a beeline for Tanaka’s place, through the tight corridors and delightful smells of noodle stalls and the spice market to the lift. Took it heartward a few levels and pinballed my way to Tankaka’s workshop.
I turned the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. I was still 100 meters away, maybe more, so nobody saw me duck into the deep door frame on the left. The big brute from Connor’s bar. His left arm was in a sling and his shoulder all bandaged up. I patted the pocket that contained the drive Tanaka hired me to steal from him and tried to think of a reason why he might now be at Tanaka’s door.
Fuck!
Oh En...