Chapter 13 #2
Our taxi finally reached the front, and we stepped off.
Lyra took the lead, which I’d expected her to do since she’d flown before.
Ahead of us, there were still at least twenty people in line, stepping through the scanner tube, one at a time, to be processed.
Since every high-towner had an amp, I’d hopefully be fine, and Lyra had an implant that mimicked an amp to any scanner.
That she didn’t have a real amp was proof that the mysterious resistance did have its limits.
Instead of amps, they all used armlets, a thin computer that wrapped around the forearm, which was common throughout Dreswick and Aberdeen.
Pretty much anyone who wasn’t completely homeless had an armlet.
I got one on my seventh birthday from Grandmother to help with my studies.
I still had one back at my apartment—I just rarely wore it to work since even a drop of battery acid could ruin the screen.
Since I used only physical chips for food, I could get by without it.
The primary reason folks wore armlets was as their digital wallets, but armlets were also phones, messaging devices, and search tools…
basically anything a person ever needed to get by.
Most amps could do some of those things, but no amps could do all those things, making armlets a must-have to any person above poverty level.
I was given a new armlet for this trip with just enough digital credits to eat a meal or two—definitely not enough to make a run for it (not that I hadn’t thought about it once or twice)… the amount was intentional, no doubt.
When there was just one passenger before us at the scanner, Lyra said softly, “I’ll go first. Just do what I do.”
When the scanner opened, she stepped under the large white arch and raised her arm so that her armlet was nearest the screen.
Her name and ticket information displayed.
Then a line of horizontal blue light scanned her, head to feet.
The outer rim of the screen turned green, and she proceeded through, then stopped and turned just beyond to watch me.
I stepped into the scanner with a confidence I sure as hell wasn’t feeling. The screen instructed me to display my ticket, and I held my armlet toward it. The correct information displayed, followed by the message: Hold still. Scan in progress.
From the corner of my eye, I caught the blue beam above and moving downward.
This is a very basic scanner. It is programmed to only identify artificial materials.
The light stopped directly at my forehead. If it was a laser, it would’ve cut off the top of my head.
I heard Lyra’s faint but sharp inhalation. I didn’t turn to look at her even though I wanted to. Was I supposed to remain standing, or was now the time I was supposed to be running?
At least another three seconds passed before the light continued downward, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Perhaps it is slightly more advanced than I realized.
The blue light disappeared after it touched the floor, and the screen displayed: Cleared. Enjoy your travels. Thank you for visiting TerraSoft-11, a Softbiotics-managed world.
I hustled through the scanner to Lyra’s side, and we shot each other a knowing glance.
“That wasn’t fun,” I said as she tucked her arm in mine and we strolled onto the airbridge.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said quietly. “I’ve never seen the scanner stop like that before.”
I paused the scanner. It exposes its source code during a scan—I wanted to read the system.
I shot a sheepish glance at Lyra. “Byte did it.”
Her frown matched mine.
Not only did I read the entire system, but I also read the records of passengers and crew.
All but thirteen passengers are Softbiotics employees, one of whom is an enforcer on vacation.
The remaining passengers are either retired or unemployed.
I deduce that the latter group is wealthy enough to not have to work but not so wealthy as to have their own ships.
“I only care about the one off duty,” I said quietly. “Keep us off their radar, okay?”
I am not aware of any radar technology currently employed by enforcers. That is an antiquated technology.
“Just point them out, all right?”
I can do that with ease as long as you keep your eyes open, and you apply situational awareness, something that you have not been very good at yet.
“Thanks.” I glanced at Lyra who was watching and whispered, “There’s an enforcer on board.”
Her features tightened. “Is our cover blown?” The question was barely a whisper, and I hoped our conversation was quiet enough to not be picked up by whatever surveillance system was in place in this long airbridge.
By then, we’d caught up to the line of passengers as they entered the shuttle one at a time. I was hoping to see the shuttle, but all I saw was an open doorway at the end of the airbridge. For all I knew, we were entering another part of the spaceport rather than a space shuttle.
However, upon reaching the front, I saw it was the shuttle.
It was perfectly square, and a single level.
Rows contained ten seats, with a gap between every two seats.
The low ceiling made me glad I wasn't taller; otherwise, I would feel even more claustrophobic.
Lyra held up her armlet to the screen in the doorway.
A light on the floor blinked, indicating her path to follow.
I showed my armlet, then I followed the same route. Midway through the ship, Byte said, The enforcer is in process of sitting down in the seat just to your left.
Without thinking, I glanced down at the stocky woman.
She looked tough—I wasn’t surprised she was an enforcer.
She caught me looking at her, and in a rush, I gave her an awkward smile and winked, hoping she’d take it for flirting.
The corner of her lip curled in distaste as she looked away.
Evidently, I wasn’t her type. I continued three more rows and took a seat next to Lyra.
I tried to buckle the three-point harness and fumbled. I’d never worn a seatbelt in my life, and I thought the belts resembled prisoners’ restraints more than a safety device.
“Here, let me.” She assisted. When she noticed an old woman watching, she added, smirking, “After ten flights last month alone, you’d think he’d learn.”
The old woman shook her head. “Men. They don’t ‘learn’ to do anything they can have a woman do for them.”
The old man next to her didn’t seem to notice, but a younger man across the aisle shot her a look.
Lyra put her hand on my leg, and I placed my hand over hers. Yes, it was necessary for the act, but it also felt nice. “Next stop: our honeymoon on the moon,” she said, smiling.
I smiled, too, and I wasn’t acting. A familiar ping sounded in my head, and my smile faded.
The error log is full. I have prepared an upgrade to improve my data analysis processes and to address issues.
I stiffened and tucked closer to Lyra so if anyone noticed me talking, they’d assume I was talking to her. “What error log?”
Our error log. Integration is not magic. Every upgrade fixes millions of errors that result from our emergent fusion.
“I feel fine. Good, really.”
That is because I am masking your pain receptors receiving feedback during replication. Otherwise, you would not be able to function.
“I told you to quit doing that.”
Masking your pain?
“No, the other thing.”
I am only doing what is necessary for our survival.
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t like the sound of that.
Your heart rate increased. Now you understand the importance of regular upgrades.
Lyra leaned closer. “Another upgrade?”
I nodded tightly. “Let’s hope it’s the last one for this trip.”