Page 80 of Coldwire
“There is no AI girlfriend on my handheld,” he intones.
I doubt he actually has a chatbot pretending to be his girlfriend on his handheld, but his reaction seems to say otherwise. The van shifts forward a little more.
“It must have gotten hard,” I say. “Buzzing in your pocket while you’re running from NileCorp, asking why you haven’t said ‘Good morning.’?”
Nik rolls his eyes. I close the map and return the handheld to Blare.
“We’re electricians,” I announce, pivoting back on task. “There’s anemergency at Threto’s Tri-Split Dam. There won’t be anyone working there right now to confirm if they call.”
“How is that an emergency we need to be let in for?” Blare asks.
“Threto’s gravity dam feeds into the world’s largest power station. A small emergency in any section is a mega-disaster. Go with it—I can lead.”
Miz pauses. She doesn’t seem to buy it, her consideration drawing long. Then she nods firmly.
We reshuffle in the van. I take the front passenger seat. Nik and Blare settle in the row directly behind. I hear Nik telling Blare that they need to pull their turtleneck collar higher, try to cover up and appear older. The van inches forward, forward, and then we’re only two cars away from the barrier, the skyscrapers taking shape ahead. Threto sprawls more than it climbs, formerly three ancient cities combined into one. Its location smack-bang in the middle of Medaluo makes it the access route for every traveler and mass shipment trying to cross the country. For as long as business operates, even downcountry Threto remains a hub, which means work trickling to its residents, but plenty of disease, too. A city like Threto has to be trigger-happy with city closures. If it isn’t careful, it will lose everyone living in the real to each new wave.
9:58 P.M., the dashboard reads. There’s a long line of cars trailing behind us too.
The barrier lifts for the car ahead. It drives through, its rear lights blinking twice.
A tap comes on my front window, and I push the button to roll it down.
“In case you haven’t heard, we’re initiating a lockdown in Threto—”
“This is an emergency, sir.”
Thirteen years at the academy attending language class every day, and I’m still shocked when I can speak Medan. I’m the perfect case study of an orphan severed from their culture of origin, the nerve ending cut and dead. In my head I believe myself entirely Atahuan, living in ignorant bliss until I glimpse myself in a mirror and am hit anew with the realization each time.
“We’re with Jiang and Tang Electric,” I continue. “There’s a breakdown at the Tri-Split Dam in the lower-east component, and the city’s going to experience severe shortages if it’s not fixed immediately. Give them a call—ask for the supervisor.”
The worker nods, noting something down in his clipboard for reference. I watch him take a few steps back, murmuring with another man in an orange vest.
“Jiang and Tang Electric,” Miz murmurs under her breath.
“It’s catchy,” I hiss back.
“It sounds like a dessert item.”
The booth worker returns. “We’re not getting an answer. You have badges?”
“Yes. One second.” I twist my body, pretending to rummage behind my seat. Nik’s sitting directly behind me, and I hit his ankles. He flinches at first, not following. Then I whack again and call, “It should be here somewhere—sorry, we’re a very young company. Most of our credentials are online. I know I carry the lanyard, though.”
Nik immediately reaches down too, retrieving his handheld. He’s understood.
“It’s got to be somewhere….”
I blindly grope around for another full minute, rustling plenty without finding anything. Eventually, Nik makes a fed-up noise and rolls down his window.
“Here,” he says. “The digital versions.”
The worker takes the handheld. He zooms in on the digital wallet database, scrutinizing the badges. I’m not sure how Nik got pictures onto them too, but I catch a flash of very realistic-looking credentials while the worker is scrolling on the screen.
“What are you?” he asks bluntly, giving the handheld back to Nik.
“Irisean,” Nik answers smoothly. Then he says something that sounds like gibberish. I didn’t take Irisean as an elective at the academy, so I don’t know what Nik just said. I doubt the worker does either, but he nods.
“No cars on the road during viral containment, so go directly to your destination. If you must leave after, contact the nearest precinct for permission.”
