Chapter 2 - Rafael
Rafael takes a breath and lowers the holopad. “That’s the last patient tonight. Any questions before I sign out, Lian?”
“Yeah, actually.” Lian tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Did you say Dr. Tanner’s doing the surgery? I thought Dr. Blake usually handles cyberdectomies.” She leans in and winks. “And between you and me, Raffy, I’d rather fall asleep and wake up to his face than wrinkly old Dr. Tanner.”
He huffs a laugh then straightens. “Mr. Reese insisted on Tanner, so I sent the request to scheduling.” Even though Rafael disagreed. Blake has more experience. He’s the better choice. But Rafael kept his mouth shut. Like always.
Lian clicks her tongue. “His loss…That’s my only question, then.”
“All right.” Rafael signs out of the holopad with a press of his thumb. He waits for the screen to blink “VitaCorp Secure: Session Logged” before holding the device out. “Time to head home.”
Finally.
After ten hours on his feet, eight straight hours of sleep sounds heavenly. Maybe he’ll set his window screens to desert night skies again or the Milky Way—anything to drown out the morning sun and neon skyline of Midtown.
“You work again tomorrow?” Lian takes the device, her hair fading from black to a muted grey.
Rafael recognizes that shade: worry or concern. His own mood dips at the thought of returning tomorrow. He masks with a quick, “Yep!” and heads for the closet across the room.
The extra pay from all this overtime is nice, but his feet are screaming.
His sister Maria keeps nagging at him to replace them, but after a childhood run-in with a faulty ocular implant, he’s not about to gamble on more cyberware.
Not until age forces his hand. Even then, only the latest Beta models.
Six years of treating patients with failing augments have taught him one thing: anything older than VitaCorp’s Alpha line isn’t worth the risk.
He holds up a hand to the locker, and the scanner pulses yellow across his palm. As the door slides open, Lian groans from behind. “Ugh, I thought you said you wanted to get back on days.”
With his back to her, a frown tugs at Rafael’s lips. By the time he turns, jacket and bag in hand, his expression has returned to neutral. “Yeah, but they keep scheduling me thirds, so…it is what it is.”
“I guess.” She shrugs. “You could talk to Marilyn. Someone might be willing to switch. Not me, of course.” Lian chuckles. “But maybe someone else? Would be nice not having to tiptoe around the apartment. Pretty sure I woke you up this morning getting ready…”
Switching would make sense, especially if their schedules could sync up again, like back when VitaCorp first paired them as roommates. Only his mother’s words echo in his mind: Don’t take unnecessary risks.
“That’s okay,” he deflects, yet the thought won’t quite go away. Days would mean he could finally apply for those night classes at Terra Inc.
Not that he was ever serious about cooking. Three years of savings sit untouched in his account, and stepping into the professional world feels impossible. What if he crashes and burns? What if reality can’t match the fantasy? The money’s better spent upgrading his kitchen console instead.
Besides, Terra Inc. would have no reason to take him. His only experience is experimenting at home. Nursing has been his path for as long as he can remember, following his parents straight to VitaCorp. The job’s rewarding enough, more so after switching from emergency care to cybernetics.
“I’m kind of used to third anyway,” Rafael argues. Then quickly adds with a smile, “And don’t worry about this morning. I was already up.”
Lian grins. “Okay, Raffy, but you’re still coming out with us tonight, right?”
“Tonight?” Rafael blinks.
She laughs. “Don’t tell me you forgot!” She waves him off before he can protest. “Long shift, I get it.”
He exhales, relieved but confused.
“You remember that new Premiere Group club in Midtown? Hyper Tropics?” She bounces in her seat. “Divya and Gavin mentioned it last night in V-link chat. Turns out Divya knows the bouncer, so we’re in! I texted you earlier, and since you didn’t say no, I took that as a yes!”
Rafael forces a smile. “Uh—” He hesitates. Going out to clubs isn’t really his idea of a fun night out. He’d rather spend the evening trying a new recipe or chatting about something deep, not shout over throbbing bass.
“You’re not coming?” Disappointment tightens Lian’s voice as her hair darkens to deep blue. Rafael’s chest goes tight. “You know how much I need a distraction right now…after Johnny.”
His plans for the evening vanish. Divya, Gavin, Lian—they all clearly want to go. And his roommate, coworker, and best friend of six years, needs him.
Still, a hollow weight sits in his chest. With a stable job, good friends, and a loving family, Rafael should feel complete. Yet his head is already pounding, envisioning another Thursday night glued to his wristlink at the bar, dodging synth deals and sleazy glances while his friends party.
But this isn’t about him. Whatever meal he planned to unwind with—a new spice blend from Terra’s Grocery he was eager to test, or that recipe he saw last week on V-link streams—can wait.
“I’m coming!” Rafael declares. “Of course! I just forgot.” The lie almost comes too easily. “Long shift. Like you said.”
Lian’s hair brightens. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, Raffy!” She waves, her artificial arm glinting under the light at the right angle. “Now go get some sleep so you’re ready for later! Hyper Tropics! Can you believe it? Everyone who’s anyone in Midtown will be there!”
“Okay, see you later, Lian!” Rafael’s practiced smile drops the moment the door shuts. He exhales and moves down the hall.
Outside their office, the usual chaos surrounds him.
Nurses rush past toward a patient’s room at the end of the hall while a boy with new limbs moves slowly in the opposite direction, learning to balance again.
Rafael steps into the elevator as a medical drone streaks past, all compact efficiency and jointed limbs.
He doesn’t flinch anymore. They’re faster than he is, anyway.
The hospital lobby buzzes with activity, even at this hour. Patients queue at the AI vidscreens, waiting for a real nurse, while others stare up at the glowing price lists, silently doing the math. Rafael keeps his head down, weaving past them toward the exit.
Halfway there, the ads on the ceiling shift, promoting its newest color-shifting optics.
The same tech as Lian’s neural hair strands, the ones that almost cost them their apartment.
He frowns. Always more cosmetic upgrades, never the bio-organs people actually need. Still, it’s what keeps him employed.
Near the exit, two VitaCorp enforcers flank the employee and patient scanner, weapons at their hips catching the lights. Rafael keeps his eyes down and moves through. There’s no reason to worry, yet their blank visors still raise a chill.
The moment he clears the threshold, his wristlink vibrates. He steps into a small vestibule and taps the device, setting the volume.
“Hey, Mom. Everything okay?” he asks as his mother’s face shimmers into a palm-sized projection above his wrist.
She waves. “Rafael, I know you’re probably heading home, but I wanted to catch you before I start my double.”
Rafael musters a grin. “It’s okay! I’ll just grab the next HOV train home.” One arrives every two minutes, after all. “What’s going on?”
“Well…the thing is, Rafael—” His mom sighs. “I can’t get hold of your sister.”
He bites the inside of his cheek. Somehow, Rafael knew this would be about Maria.
“Your father and I—we had a fight…with Maria,” his mother continues.
“She wanted her new boyfriend—some part-time anarchist from the slums—to stay with us. I told her absolutely not. We could never host someone like that in our home!” She huffs.
“Of course, Maria wouldn’t listen to reason, so she moved out.
Last night…your father tried to convince her to come back, but she chose her boyfriend—a man she had just started dating, mind you—over her own parents. ”
Rafael’s shoulders tense. Maria has been bouncing between their parents’ and her friends’ apartments since she turned eighteen, but she’s always stayed in Midtown, never the Outer Districts. He knows she’s visited, especially with her recent interest in anti-corp activism and black-market augments.
But when Maria wasn’t fighting with their parents growing up, she was defending him. Shouldn’t Rafael do the same? Convince their mother that if Maria chose this guy, maybe he’s worth trusting? That she must have a plan, even if Rafael hasn’t spoken to her since that V-link message a week ago?
Except that would mean another fight. “She’s probably fine, Mom,” he says instead. “Maria takes care of herself. I’ll reach out when I can—hopefully she still makes it to family dinner like usual.”
The call ends with his mother’s usual worry-filled goodbye, and Rafael steps into the early morning streets.
At this hour, the sun is blocked by Midtown’s towering concrete, yet the city is never truly dark.
Neon ads pulse from every corner while HOV trains hum overhead, long silver cars gliding along invisible rails.
Rafael peers up at the newest billboard above an old metal walkway as he leaves the hospital campus.
Maria suspects they increase the light pollution each year, determined to keep Nova City’s title as “the brightest city in the world.” He vaguely remembers a school lesson about a mayor in the 2100s who wanted to recreate New York after it was lost during the Second Cold War.
The details are fuzzy. Rafael never paid close attention then.
All he knew was that the endless flashing kept him awake, seeping through his parents’ cheap window screens. The hum soothes him now, like crashing waves. Not that he’s ever visited the ocean. Only digital beaches on V-link.
The skyline shifts with each block, sleek skyscrapers transforming into high-rises topped with VitaCorp’s signature yellow glow. His building sits on the far edge of the district, which means another cramped train ride home.
He’s nearly at the HOV station when a squeal from behind halts him. Rafael’s pulse spikes.
A van drops from the air beside him, dust kicking up as the VitaCorp patrol HOV vanishes around the corner. Its frame has the sharp angles and chrome of any modern HOV, but the tan paint is streaked with rust, weapons bolted to the sides, and a strange insignia above the hood.
A chill runs down his spine.
Whispers from V-link flood back of HOVs like this belonging to street “gangs from the slums.” The warnings about them have always been the same: Run if you see them. Don’t get involved. Don’t even look too long. Yet fear keeps his feet frozen to the ground.
The HOV drops onto the street beside him, fans shrieking. Its side door hisses open, and Rafael sucks in a breath. A woman in cybernetic armor vaults out and bolts toward the station.
For a heartbeat, he breathes easier. She’s heading past him, not toward him. Then something cold and heavy presses against Rafael’s shoulder. His heart stutters.
“Stay silent, and we both walk away…”