“It’s not like I meant to, I thought she was out.”

“You gotta make sure. You should know better than that. Check your corners, scan the field, and all the rest of that muck.” The inference being that Rafiq would not have made the same mistake.

Juan didn’t respond. His feelings of jealousy, injustice, and disappointment in himself were heightened by the knowledge that his friend seemed to be enjoying it on some level. He shouldn’t be surprised, everything in their world was competition– at least with Rafiq it was the friendly version.

“Hey man, relax, at least you get to stay with me tonight. I’ll make sure you do well. Y’know I got you.”

Juan wasn’t sure why Rafiq should be so confident. They both had the same standard hardware upgrades in their arms and legs enhancing their abilities to run, jump, climb, and fight. They were physically different though, which meant they were recently given different specialities. Where Juan had the shoulder plate and anchor for heavy artillery, Rafiq- very athletic, quicker, but smaller– had stabilizers in his legs that allowed him to jump more than twenty feet and land safely from as high as forty feet. He also had non-issued blade mounts on his arms which Juan secretly envied– the benefit of rich parents.

They turned the corner, and the Ram came into view. The staunch, cubic building, in the heart of the Battery near the borders of Cogstown and Skid Row, was the staging area for the majority of Krelborn’s guards. The exterior was a deep dark gray, nearly black, reinforced cement which could withstand a direct missile barrage. The interior was opulent, with polished gold-rimmed desks, marble floors, and even crystal chandeliers. While some may have thought that this style was ill- befitting a security force, Juan knew that contrast was the point; it was a show of strength. The security force was the shield that protected Krelborn’s grandeur.

Juan turned his attention back to his friend who had continued talking without pause, “…I couldn’t imagine letting an opportunity like that slip away. What a tough lesson for you.”

They both stopped as they saw Rae leaving the Ram on her special assignment. My special assignment, thought Juan. However, it was not Rae that gave them pause, it was the company she kept. A NetGuard contingent, complete with a jiju.

An anglicized pronunciation of the Chinese word for “spider,” jiju specialized in trapping, acquiring, and eliminating any carp caught in their web. They were menacing to look at. This one’s black metallic body shimmered as it walked due to its integrated camouflage tech. Red “eyes” encircled its torso. Six legs tapped lightly on the steps as it walked past and two tentacles with pincers on the ends oscillated as if looking for prey. Silent, nearly indestructible, lightning quick, and run by advanced AI, jiju’s were the most feared part of any security force. If one was after you, then you were as good as caught.

Jealousy welled up in Juan’s chest anew. The NetGuard was easily the most elite security force in all of Nekonikon. Each megacorp had their own NetGuard division charged with protecting their networks. Anyone could access the PubWeb, but you had to be aligned to a corp to access its much more sophisticated web. Krelnet was Juan’s main source of news, entertainment, and data. It was highly organized and secure unlike the public web, which was generally just a mess of independent user, and dumb-AI, generated content.

Within each private web were security layers protecting increasingly sensitive and classified data. Of course, the friendly competition between the megacorps meant there was an ongoing demand for that secure data. It was well known that throughout Skid Row, there were fixers who could arrange for carp to obtain sensitive data for a price. It was all part of a bustling black market that security forces were tasked with disrupting.

That was where NetGuard came in. Part judicial, part intelligence, part enforcement, NetGuard would spend days, weeks, even months investigating, monitoring, and hunting a carp. These elusive hackers specialized in being unpredictable– fooling and avoiding the AI monitors, but eventually, inevitably, the patterns emerged, and they would have their prey right where they wanted. That was when a jiju was brought out.

“They must have a big carp tonight,” Rafiq inferred from the fact that a full contingent was supporting the jiju including special ops and enforcement grunts, of which Rae walked with the latter. Juan was furious with himself that he let this opportunity slip through his hands. As he watched them pass, Rae noticed him and gave a wink as her pace picked up ever so slightly. The gesture did not improve Juan’s mood.

He and Rafiq climbed the stairs to the main doors and waited at attention. It was 21:58 and their shift didn’t start for another couple of minutes. The sergeant would emerge any moment and expect them to be there.

While waiting, Juan wondered what Rae’s role could possibly be tonight. The jiju would be the one hunting the carp. Carp usually were mobile, in a van on ground level or flying in a drone. The rest of the NetGuard would be strategically stationed around the expected route monitoring for established patterns. It was unlikely Rae would have such a responsibility. She would more likely be part of the enforcement crew sent in to clean up after the jiju made a mess.

Interrupting his thoughts, Sergeant Lessing emerged from the Ram followed closely by two veteran guards. Lessing addressed the two of them. “Privates Fausto, Jones, at ease.” Juan and Rafiq relaxed their postures. “Follow me boys.” They fell in line behind Lessing and the two guards who would be their guides tonight. As they approached their drone, Lessing turned and addressed the four of them.

“Guards Lupton and Varley, meet privates Fausto and Jones. Tonight’s patrol is in the southwest corner of the Dregs. You know the drill, monitor for suspicious activity especially any gangers looking to break into Krelborn territory. Fausto, Jones, observe and absorb. There’ll be a quiz at the end of the shift. Dismissed.”

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The drone landed in a busy market area of the Dregs– the southernmost part of Skid Row, poverty stricken and with a reputation for all manner of debauchery. A guard could reasonably assume that anyone living here was likely some manner of criminal.

If you lived in Skid Row, it meant you didn’t work for a corporation. That probably meant you didn’t have a job– or at least a legal one. There was an active black market that ran through the whole area. Like a polluted river carrying garbage to the sea, all manner of illicit material flowed into the greater city, the most common– and most valuable– was stolen data.

Of course, there were some legitimate businesses here. Some enterprising entrepreneurs did well enough to pay the exorbitant license fees. But even these were usually fronts for money laundering and other shady activities. Yes, guards could feel pretty confident in finding crime no matter where they looked in Skid Row. This was doubly true for the Dregs.

The four guards emerged from the drone with batons already in hand. The locals were used to security patrols from the three megacorps and knew to give them a wide berth. Still, Juan knew they had to be vigilant. Every now and then a ganger got the not-so-brilliant idea to try something with a guard– those nights made for good stories to impress their uptown friends. Greta always enjoyed his recountings of violent Skid Row gangers and the exaggerations of his role in quashing the threats they posed.

They spent the first part of their patrol surveying the area. They stopped and frisked a few gangers, handed out some fines for vagrancy, public drunkenness, and even one for indecent exposure when a deranged man in a thong kept his gaze lingering just a little too long for Varley’s liking.

The two veteran guards were good to Juan and Rafiq. Since they would be graduating soon, the regular guards had been treating them more like colleagues and less like burdens. There was a lot of hazing, but it was all in good spirit– at least that’s what Juan told himself.

A few hours into their patrol, they entered a supposedly reputable business. A small corner shop that sold a variety of packaged snacks and drinks, but mainly holos. These were fully immersive, interactive experiences that synced via a person’s neuro. Not unlike more primitive video games, from which holos evolved, these were wildly popular and formed a considerable proportion of the global entertainment market.

Everyone knew there was a black market for illegal holos that was even larger than the legal one. There was something to satisfy even the most depraved desires. Customers could inhabit any role they wished in interactive tortures, murders, and all kinds of illicit sexual acts. AI could create anything a customer desired, but the most expensive were real experiences recorded on a victim’s neuro and packaged for exclusive consumption. There was a good chance that a holo store in the Dregs would be stocking such contraband somewhere on the premises.

Entering the store, Varley signaled Rafiq and Juan to guard the door while he surveyed the back aisles. Lupton walked right up to the counter and addressed a balding old man dressed in a dirty– formerly white– short sleeve dress shirt with back suspenders.

“Jackie!” Lupton’s tone was overly friendly, which was somehow more menacing. “How’s business?”

“F-fine, I suppose. Could al-always be b-b-better.” He adjusted his glasses.

“Heyyy, don’t be nervous Jackie m’boy. We’re here on regular business. Getting a little peckish on patrol y’know. It’s hard work keeping these streets clean for legitimate businessmen like yourself.”

“Thank you. P-p-please help yourselves. No charge of course.”

SLAP! Lupton clapped his hands loudly in mock elation, “Nice! You’re the best.” Varley was already finishing a cold burrito. He gestured to Rafiq and Juan to grab something. Juan declined, but Rafiq grabbed a pack of grilly crisps and started munching. Juan focused on the door, making sure no customers came in while Lupton was interrogating a suspect. Varley shrugged his shoulders and turned away from them, grabbing a beer to wash down his snack.

“Business must be better than I thought, you giving away free food and all.” Lupton continued with his questioning.

“I-I am just always happy to support the law.”

Lupton let out a loud guffaw. “Didja hear that Varley? We got ourselves a patriot! Right here in the Dregs! I mean, of course he’s too good to work for Krelborn. We have a successful independent businessman here! Striking it out here on his own. Good for you Jackie!” Lupton let the silence hang, his smile faded, he locked eyes with his prey and waited for it to say something.

“I-i-is there anything else?”

SLAM! Lupton’s baton came down hard on a rack of candies by the front counter. Red, green, blue, and yellow packages scattered all over the floor as the rack collapsed. Now showing his wrath, Lupton moved to the next stage of the interrogation.

“You rushing us outta here Jackie? You suddenly don’t like guards? I thought we were friends.” The sounds of smashing wood and rustling packages came from the back aisles where Varley was investigating.

“No plea…” was all Jackie could say before Lupton grabbed him by the throat and pushed Jackie back against the wall, causing more packages and shelving to crash.

“You think we’re stupid Jack? There is no way this dive affords to stay open selling this crap!” Lupton held up a standard holo on playing chess to illustrate his point. Squeezing tighter on the shop owner’s neck, “Where’s the good stuff my man?”

Jackie tried to answer but couldn’t speak. Laughing at the elderly man writhing, Lupton opened his hand and let him slump to the floor. Through tears, the shop owner again tried to appeal to the guards. “Please, I paid my license..I treat you good…I did nothing else.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Varley let’s bag this one and take him in for further questioning on suspicion of trafficking black market holos. There’s plenty here to warrant a temporary closure and thorough search of the shop”

“No wait! OK, I-I-I th-think I know w-what the problem is ss-s-sir.” Jackie rose slowly to his knees with his hands up.

“Oh? And what is that?” Lupton clenched both fists.

“I th-think I forgot to pay my license fee this m-m-month. M-m-maybe I can give it to you, y’know s-since you are here. Y-you can help me clear up this m-mis-misunderstanding.”

Lupton’s posture relaxed, “I think we can work something out m’boy.”

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

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For her, it was a late supper time, but it was lunch for Juan. Their circadian schedules were a bit out of sync, but still allowed them plenty of time together. Besides, young people have always been unconcerned about sacrificing sleep in favor of social activities.

Greta was heading back with a steaming bowl in each hand. She took a seat and slid one over, “Here, this’ll make you feel better.”

“Thanks.” He dug in. Greta ate slower and watched her boyfriend devour his meal.

When he was finished, Juan looked up sheepishly, “I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Taking a whooping must really work up an appetite.” She teased, egging him on a bit. Juan resisted the bait, but part of him wanted to take it. Bruised ego or not, Greta could just never understand what it was like for students on the Guard track. She had always been favored, with her positive attitude and quick smile. Her academic scores were exceptional and at a young age she was selected for the Sales and Acquisitions track– highly competitive, but once you were in, you were treated like royalty- there were Krelborn employees who deferred to her, and she hadn’t even graduated yet.

Juan, on the other hand, had to fight and claw from the very beginning to stay in the elite Guard section. Being in the top twenty was a steep climb and one could easily fall back to the bottom. The promise of a special assignment today would have helped him solidify his superior status. To have it be so close to his grasp and then stolen away by Rae, was something he would not get over soon.

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Looking across at Greta’s pretty face and stylish clothes, Juan felt lucky to be dating her. He was never sure why she chose him out of all her possible suitors, but it made him feel indebted. He sought her approval, which made her teasing sting all the more. He knew that she, from her privileged position, could never really understand him. But, he supposed, he would never really understand her either. As long as they accepted each other, they made it work.

Greta smiled, trying to redirect his brooding mood. “Wanna come with me tonight? I’m heading to Skid Row.” She lifted her eyebrows in time with those last two words.

“You know I can’t, I have guided duty”

“But I thought you didn’t get the special assignment? Aren’t you free now?

“No, I still have my regular shift. Just plain ol’ observe and absorb with Rafiq.”

Munching on a bit of tofu, “At least you get to hang out with Rafiq. Can’t be all bad.”

Shaking his head, “Not much hanging to be done. We have to stay pretty silent, take notes, and then pass the end-of-shift quiz. They’re still giving those, and they get harder each time, it seems.” Juan paused. “Why would you be going to Skid Row? You know it’s dangerous and the company doesn’t like us spending time there.”

Shrugging, “Call it S&A benefits. It’s good for us to have a better understanding of all parts of Nekonikon; the non-aligned are customers too. Besides, the guards would never give me trouble.” Winking with a smile “I guess you shouldn’t either.

“Is that so? Really, what are you planning to do there?”

She feigned an exasperated sigh, “I guess I’ll just have to see where the wind takes me.”

“You got time for a walk? It’s still a couple hours before I have to report to the Ram.”

She stood and took his hand, “I’ve always got time for you.”

Walking through the vendor market was a cacophony of both aromas and sound. Sizzling synth meats, noodles, tacos, kabobs and more. The smell of chou tofu was overwhelming, something Juan never could get used to. The ambient noise of Nekonikon was amplified in this enclosed space. Vendors called from all directions, patrons deliberated their meal choices, or were in raucous conversations over steaming bowls, wrappers, and cups. People bustled in all directions and Juan would have struggled to keep track of Greta were they not holding hands.

Emerging from the tented ceiling of the market onto the street was a relief. They walked easily along the wide clean sidewalks of the Battery.

The buildings of the Battery were not as elaborate as Harborside or Cogstown. This area began as an industrial center, so it was built for ease of movement and transport. Wide accommodating streets were rimmed with tall rectangular buildings, nearly all the same shade of gray. Harborside was built for residents as well as commerce and trade. Run by Longyu, their skyline boasted beautiful pagodas and stylized architecture to draw one’s eye. Cogstown, as well, was quite an architectural marvel. No expense was spared in bringing in the greatest avant garde architects to engineer their elaborate buildings. The crowning jewel, being the Knot; Cogswell-Smythe’s headquarters drew three buildings together and appeared to tie them in a giant knot in the center, the highest point in all Nekonikon’s skyline.

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Of course, since moving most of their data farms and energy production to the Plant, the Battery became the residential area of the Krelborn district. Neon signs brightened up the drab buildings. Advertisements for everything made by the big three corporations and their subsidiaries were endless. Augmented by AR ads in their neuros, it was sometimes difficult to ignore the intrusions and focus on the person next to you.

“What’s it like in Skid Row?” Juan asked.

“You should know. Don’t you go there sometimes on your guided duty shifts?”

“Yeah, but that’s different. When I’m on duty people avoid me and I’m not there for fun.”

“It’s good. Different. Not as dangerous as you grunts like to claim. Certainly, the best music you can find anywhere.”

“Really? I can’t imagine the music is that good. What makes their AI so special?”

“What makes it special is they write it themselves.”

“Really? Heh, now I know you’re joking. There is no way that’s any good.”

“They have recordings, but you gotta hear it live first; the recordings don’t do it justice.” Juan gave her a disbelieving smile. “Really, really babe. Come see Corpslayer with me tomorrow; I won’t take no for an answer.”

Juan stopped, uncomfortable. “I’m not supposed t… y’know, it might be OK for S&A, but Guards are not to fraternize with…”

She cut him off with a kiss. “You worry too much. I’ll protect you. No one will bother you with me there. And, if they ask, we can tell your superiors that I needed an escort.” She gave him another kiss, this time longer. “I gotta go, ordered a taxi home. See you tomorrow at the northwest gate, be there 21:00 sharp soldier.”

With that, she saluted then bounded off as her taxi landed at a nearby pod. Juan took a moment to enjoy the view. The graceful way she moved– surety in every light but determined step. He felt lucky. No. Not lucky…Grateful. He was grateful she chose him. The hatch opened for her, she turned and gave a short wave, and seconds later the drone lifted straight up, and she was whisked away.

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Entering their small kitchen, Juan found his mother, Surmieda, staring out the window viewscreen. Despite their 6th floor apartment, which faced identical buildings on either side, the screen showed the elaborate skyline of Nekonikon with a brilliant, golden sunrise tracing through the clouds. The view was from Krelborn’s headquarters, the tallest building in the Battery, and high enough to see all three regions of Nekonikon- the Battery, Cogstown, and even Harborside. Some days, Juan tried to see the details of Skid Row, but it appeared only as a dark shadowed area to the left of the screen before the image gave way to the opulent pagodas and soaring skyscrapers of Harborside.

Usually, Juan didn’t like lies, which is why he didn’t like to read the news on the PubWeb or even Krelnet. Too much was too easy to fake, even videos and recordings were suspect. The only thing you could be sure of was what you personally experienced. That’s why face-to-face conversations and IRL events were more popular with most people his age. But lies like the window viewscreen were OK, because he knew the truth. Were there an actual old-fashioned glass window in their kitchen, his view would be the gray cement of the adjacent building. Were he to lean in close, press his cheek to the cold glass, he might catch a glimpse of the perpetually gray sky. The viewscreen image was much nicer; he didn’t mind the ruse.

“Morning mijo,” his mother, greeted him from the table. Of course, it wasn’t actually morning, it was closer to 14:00, but her Krelborn assigned circadian schedule had her waking up and getting ready for work at this time. As usual, her breakfast was Nutri-Cafe, a synthetic drink favored by the Olds. It had everything a body needed to start the day off right- at least that was the slogan.

“Morning mom.” She appeared to be contemplating the city skyline. But the red light on her temple was flashing, indicating to Juan that while his mom acknowledged his presence, she was reading an AR overlay on her neuro. Probably, some last-minute memo she needed before work today. She was diligent about making sure she was up to date on all her department’s policies. Surmieda was adamant with Juan his whole life, that was how to stay ahead of the competition- “Make sure you know what they know.”

Juan grabbed a grape toastie and popped it in the zapper. He didn’t have much time before History class, so he kissed his mother on the cheek. She didn’t reply. Her lights were now solid red and green, indicating she was in a deep audio-visual, and she was not able to see or hear her son.

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Munching on his toastie, he climbed the stairs to his room to clean up before class started. Juan wasn’t very eager to attend, but it’s not like he had much of a choice. When it came to the physical stuff, he was a model student. Always a big kid, he was naturally athletic at a pretty young age. He hated his other subjects, the ones where he had to sit, listen, read, write, and research. Luckily, Guard track students had almost no academic classes. The one exception was the requirement to study History.

In the bathroom, he rinsed his mouth with a minty anti-bac while standing in his decontaminator. He just did a quick 15 second steam. Watching himself in the digital mirror, his eyes fixed on his left shoulder mounting plate and right shoulder anchor. They ached, as did all newly implanted hardware. His were standard upgrades for all heavy weapons students in Krelborn’s Guard track. Powered by an internal battery, they gave him extra upper body strength and enabled him to attach shoulder mounted armaments.

The decontaminator’s exhaust fan turned off, Juan stepped down and spit the anti-bac in the sink. His AR overlay displayed the day’s weather and offered an outfit from his wardrobe. He accepted the suggestion and got dressed.

It was soon time for class and Mr. Wagner did not tolerate tardiness. Mr. Wagner was an Old. None of the students knew how old he was, but they were certain he was from before the Great Secession because his hardware was retro. He had none of the sleek post-war integrated interfaces which made people look perpetually 30-ish, he had only bulky old-school implants, wrinkles, and scars. The running joke among guards was that this made him ideal to teach History because he was basically an artifact himself. None of the students, Juan included, would dare say that to his face though. Teaching History was a side gig for Wagner, but one he insisted on doing. The guy was one of the higher ups at Krelborn, he had a permanent board seat and was as tough as he was smart. He taught History exclusively for the Guard track students, reserving the right to personally evaluate each one.

Juan hardlined into his tablet and laid down on his bed. His neuro lights came on solid red and green as his view was replaced with the Krelborn logo- a metal cube with energy bolts. He could see a few of his classmates in the queue but most had yet to log in. There were still a few minutes, but Juan had to wait patiently without distraction. He banged out the drum beat from the GreinScrien song on his thighs to pass the time; the hardwire to the tablet meant his neuro was overridden and he could not access anything on the web but his class.

Other students were now logging in more rapidly. He saw Rafiq’s name pop up and sent him a ping. Rafiq pinged back immediately. Good, he wasn’t skipping. Many students, especially seniors, used dumb AI bots to attend their classes for them from time to time. Rafiq had done it a bit too often and now was at risk of repeating the whole course before he would be allowed to officially graduate. He would be monitored closely and if caught using a dumb AI, he’d be done. Juan was glad for the responsibility his friend was starting to show.

Rafiq and Juan had been friends throughout school. Though Rafiq lived in a whole different area of the Battery and his parents were both executives in the highly competitive Intelligence sector, he and Juan had always clicked. They had a shared love of sports and a shared disdain for academics. At times, their friendship was strained by their competitiveness, but they managed to keep it mostly friendly over the years. Though, Juan had to admit, the closer they got to graduation, the more Rafiq seemed to care about their rivalry and the more frequent his outbursts.

Juan attributed much of his friend’s attitude to the pressure put upon him by his parents. It took them a long time to accept that their son was on the Guard track, but Rafiq was always as jazzed about it as Juan had been. They pushed their son hard, wanting him to make the best of his situation. After graduation, he and Juan dreamed of being partners, prowling the streets of Nekonikon together, keeping the people safe. Of course– Juan smiled to himself– Rafiq would need to graduate first.

Many people frowned on security as a career, but for Juan it was an excellent option. Protecting people made him feel good, like the fulfillment of his purpose. Krelborn had given him a lot. He wanted to give back and spend his time serving the community, keeping people- and their property- safe. Outside the games and machinations of his fellow aligned citizens, he could just put his head down and do good work. He’d take care of Krelborn’s people, and they’d take care of him. Let other people worry about politics and business.

Ba-ding beep

The screen switched to a live feed of Mr. Wagner sitting at his desk. Unlike other teachers who used animations, interactive games, and videos to supplement their lessons, Mr. Wagner just sat and talked. With another teacher, this could be boring, but there was something compelling about him. Wagner was a good speaker and passionate about the Krelborn mission. He personally fought for Nekonikon during the GS and had a bunch of cool stories to keep the students interested. The man was authentic; credibility emanated from the old tech and scarred face.

“Welcome everyone. I am glad to see you all have attended on time, at least you learned something this past year.” There were far too many students for Wagner to be able to ping them all, but he sent out some random ones and got immediate responses which brought a wry smile to his hard face.

“Were I naiver, I would trust everyone completed the assigned reading, but I know seniors. You are all eager to get out there to serve your people and I commend you for that desire. But you are not there yet.” He spoke that last sentence slowly, letting each word hang in the air.

“So, let us make sure you know what we are talking about, hmm?” He glanced around the room, which Juan realized must have been weird for him sitting alone in his office. Yet the gesture had the intended effect of drawing the class to him.

“When Nekonikon was established, its founders wanted to ensure the failings of the past would not contaminate our future. The American experiment in representative democracy was well-intended but faced a near insurmountable challenge in the digital era. Once AI became prevalent, the end of their system was nigh. Their government was slow to respond to new realities, and the officials- who were supposedly the representatives of the citizens that elected them- were actually serving the interests of the private corporations that funded them. Essentially it was chaos in the guise of order; everyone fought, and nothing happened.”

He sounded almost bored as he spouted off this history, but Juan knew the old lecturer’s rhythms enough by now to know he was just lulling his audience before launching into some great point.

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Lying in his bed, Juan stifled a yawn. He had heard this story a thousand times, but he didn’t dare try and leave the stream. Best to just get this over with. What was the use in knowing about the Great Secession or the Final Contracts which established the city states in the West? Admittedly, the wars were interesting. Learning about the AI race, the new weapon developments, and the battles were kinda fun- for school anyway. But ultimately, who really cared? What did it matter? The result remained the same: some megacorps seceded from the United States and established their own sovereign city states along the west coast. Every grade schooler knew the story; Juan was not sure why they had to keep reading about it again and again each year. As he got older there were more details added to the story, but the basic narrative was always the same.

Wagner was now moving to the virtues of the Nekonikon system. Juan agreed that it was certainly much better than the slow and ineffective USA government that led to the GS. Nekonikon was run by a council of five representatives. Three– a representative from each of the megacorps– occupied the red, yellow, and green seats and two– elected by popular vote from non-aligned citizens– occupied the black and white seats. He and his mother didn’t get a vote since they were Krelborn-aligned. They worked for the company, and, in turn, the company served their interests and represented them.

“In Nekonikon there are no upper and lower houses to delay new laws, there are just The Five making decisions for the good of everyone, just as founder Gregory intended. Of course, the boards of Krelborn, Longyu and Cogswell-Smythe all advise their representatives, but the final decisions for everything in our state are made by The Five. What the Americans got right was that no one person should ever have total control. That inevitably leads to weakness. Though such nations may seem strong in the short term, they eventually succumb to their own corruption. Nekonikon ensures that the people are represented and yet we are able to make timely decisions for the good of everyone.”

Wagner then went on with more details into the nuances of their system, comparing their decision-making record with that of the remaining United States to the east. He held up example after example of where Nekonikon made prosperous decisions in a fraction of the time the USA made their moves. It was now common for the US government to wait for consensus among the western city states and then draft their own legislation in accordance. These were the kind of details that were new in the senior year, but while it might be interesting to someone, Juan didn’t bother transcribing or noting any of it– he knew there were no more tests.

It was near the end of their allotted time and Wagner seemed to be coming to his conclusion.

“These days everyone has their own dumb AI. What does this mean? It means that things develop fast. Too fast for old deliberative governments to keep up. They were steamrolled by change, and we needed a governing body that was representative yet nimble. Our government is fast and agile. We can enforce legislation in a fraction of the time it took for the RepublicRats to argue over details, add in irrelevant amendments, and vote to give themselves a raise. Thank you for your time today, everyone.”

After class, Juan tried to call Rafiq but couldn’t get an answer. He didn’t bother leaving a message; he knew his friend would walk by his apartment at the same time he did every night on their way to guided duty at the Ram. Instead, Juan called Greta to make dinner arrangements. He hadn’t seen her in a couple days, and it would be nice to catch up before his shift. They agreed to meet at a nearby market. The place had food he could afford, and it was walking distance for Juan; Greta didn’t mind shelling out for a drone taxi.

He headed back downstairs to grab a drink and see his mother, but she was gone. He picked up her dirty mug and took it to the cleanser along with his plate. Sometimes he wondered if she always left her dirty dishes on purpose. Was she silently giving him the opportunity to take care of her, even in such a small way, or was it simply something she didn’t think about? Either way, it was a daily ritual Juan appreciated on some level. After all she had sacrificed for him– taking two jobs after his father died– cleaning dishes was a small way he could take care of her.

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Walking along one of the wide throughways of the Battery, Juan was doing his best to ignore the world around him. He liked listening to music before physical training class, but without a subscription to higher Krelnet tiers he was restricted to a limited playlist unless he wanted to be inundated with ads. When selecting music that Greta recommended, ads in pink, yellow, green, blue, and all the other colors of the neon rainbow appeared on every available surface, which– given the plethora of drab buildings and streets in the Battery– was everywhere. Even the grayed-out sky wasn’t safe.

Looking up at the ever-present clouds, he switched over to the PubWeb. There were no fewer ads here, but at least they were more varied, and the music selection was broader. He instantly regretted the choice, having forgotten there was a Black Chair election coming up next month. All the ads were for political candidates he didn’t care about. Even if he did care about politics, the Black Chair election was only for non-aligned citizens. He switched back to Krelnet and listened to GreinScrein for the thousandth time. It wasn’t the fancy stuff his girlfriend Greta could afford, but it did the job. Most AI music sounded the same anyway. The formulaic beats got him moving, and that’s all he really needed as he headed to PT on this gray morning.

The richer citizens of Nekonikon could subscribe to a tier that would use their neuro’s AR overlay to make the sky appear blue and show the sun. Juan wondered for the thousandth time what it would be like to afford such luxuries.

He wasn’t exactly jealous of Greta; she had earned her status on the Sales and Acquisitions track in school. He was happy for her, but still he wished for the luxuries that came with such a high status– and the power wouldn’t be too bad either. It would certainly make life easier for him and his mother. He sighed, knowing he was dreaming; he was exactly where he belonged. The Guard track wasn’t so bad, and it came with its own kind of power.

He arrived at the building for his class and climbed the stairs. Above the door to the dojo the Krelborn motto was etched in iron: Dominate. Control. Prosper. Everyone knew the Guards were the first line of defense in the maintenance of their society- despite the low status they held at the academy. In the world of Krelborn schooling, the Guard candidates were considered bottom rung– the grunts. It didn’t matter that he was one of the top twenty students preparing for the elite guard. That only put him slightly above the dregs.

As always, he was among the first to arrive at the gym and went through a light stretching routine alone by the side as the others shuffled in. He hadn’t gotten close with anyone in the elite class. He felt a coldness from their interactions as if they were purposefully distancing themselves from him. Juan passed this off as his own insecurity; he often felt like he wasn’t good enough and it made him work doubly hard to seek their validation. However, the harder he worked, it seemed, the less he felt like he belonged.

He sighed, too bad his best friend Rafiq couldn’t be in this class with him; they shared most of their subjects and their guided duty shifts. But this particular class was only for the top twenty and he hadn’t made the cut. It was a reality that Rafiq had a hard time accepting. Their competitive rivalry was so intense that Juan’s mother often mused that if they weren’t friends, they’d be certain enemies.

The time came and all the students gathered in a line and stood rigid. After a few moments, Shifu Bao entered the room. She slowly and methodically removed her sandals and placed them to the side, then withdrew her famed jian (sword) Ruby, and placed it gracefully in its holder. The golden hilt, with a red gemstone on the end, shimmered despite the soft light of the room.

To the untrained eye, Bao would not present much of a threat. Her small frame and demure smile themselves were tactics that disarmed many opponents. The facade was betrayed by her cold, unmoving, shark eyes, which along with much of her body, were enhanced with a full array of combat upgrades. She could see in pitch dark, locate enemies through smoke and walls, even flashbangs had no effect. Her neuro AI tracked opponents’ movements and fed real time predictive data directly to her spine which reduced the delay to her already lightning-fast reflexes.

Every year, with each new cohort, it seemed there was always one cocky young student who had to learn the hard way that she was the elite combat instructor for good reason. Juan never doubted her from day one, as he had already heard- and believed- many stories of her legend. But he remembered Paul wasn’t quite so fortunate. Snickering in line the first day, she offered him a test. All he had to do was land a single blow and he would advance through her class with a glowing report.

The fool took the bait. He went with a strategy to overwhelm the Shifu, beginning with a quick barrage of attacks, desperately trying to land something, anywhere. Bao moved so fast- at first Juan thought his neuro was glitching- she seemed to flash from right to left, up and down, without actual movement in between. Juan wondered at what point Paul realized his mistake. Was it during his attack or when the Shifu countered? The fight was so short, it was hard to tell. For Juan, and the rest of the class, the message was sent loud and clear as her carbon fiber forearms and shins connected with pinpoint accuracy and very little mercy. That was Paul’s last day in guard training.

By now she had the utmost respect from everyone in Juan’s cohort. Her past was a mystery to the students and the subject of much rumor and speculation. No one knew how old she was because she had all the latest integrated hardware upgrades which, along with the enhanced abilities, hid her age. She could be twice as old as his own mother for all Juan knew. For sure she had seen combat, so she had to be at least forty, but really none of the students could claim to know much about her.

She stepped softly on the matted floor as she made her way to the front, then cupped a fist in her hand and gave a slight bow to the class, which was promptly returned much lower. Her calm demeanor was unnerving, and not a sound could be heard in the room before she spoke barely above a whisper.

“Welcome all, thank you for attending. I know this time of year for seniors is when many lose focus. However, you must discipline your minds. The best warriors know that they do not get to choose when to fight, they must always be prepared…” she paused and graced the class with a rare smile “…even when graduation is at hand.” Juan stifled his own smirk and maintained attention.

“Today we will forgo our regular practice. I want to see who among you can truly stand out. While, as guards, you will be expected to work together and sync up on duty, it’s still good to strive to be better than the rest. Just as iron sharpens iron, so too will each of you become stronger.” Juan stiffened at that last bit. “We will have a full melee with the batons,” her tone turning the sentence into an order.

“Yes, Shifu!” The class shouted in unison, though Juan had to fight the tightness welling up in his stomach.

“Remember. What do we do?” Her voice now rang with authority.

“Dominate! Control! Prosper!”

The Shifu smiled again, “One of you certainly will. Go now, each of you select a baton from the back.”

The class walked single file to the wall where the batons hung. These were training batons and unlike the standard issue security one he would soon carry; they could not be tuned to a lethal frequency. At max, they could knock you out with a touch, and of course, even a dead baton could be swung with devastating force by guards because of their enhanced strength. Good thing we have training vests and helmets or things could get really messy, Juan thought. Then he noticed, just about the same time as the rest of the class, the protective gear was still locked in the cage.

Turning back to Bao, the students’ faces asked the question that their hearts already knew the answer to. The great Shifu nodded, “Yes, today there will be no protection. All you have is your baton and your focus. The last student standing wins a special assignment for tonight’s guided duty. A prize for the best of the best.”

At the promise of such a reward Juan’s fear turned to resolve. While he and his classmates were all part of the same team, every aligned citizen in Nekonikon- no matter their vocation- had been raised in the fires of competition. Competitiveness was the guiding principle of their world and the secret to their prosperity. It made them all stronger and an opportunity to stand out like this- so close to graduation- could set the winner on a path to the kind of success Juan dreamed of. It was exactly the kind of motivation that brought out his best.

One by one, students selected a baton and situated themselves strategically in the gym. Juan wasn’t entirely pleased with his placement- fifteenth out of twenty. By the time he picked up a baton, the corners were all taken, as well as the locales along the wall. Everyone wanted something solid at their backs and flanks. Given his lack of options, he decided instead to claim the dead center of the room. As one of the bigger students he knew he could be intimidating; he decided he should emphasize that with a show of confidence to throw some of his classmates off. They already preferred to be defensive by the walls; their fear might be his best weapon. To drive the point home, he locked eyes on Troy, – the largest student in the room– smiled, and visibly turned his baton up to the max.

When the last students took their place, Bao waited a beat then announced “Ready.” There was a long pause as students looked about; eyes shifting from person to person, some had clearly chosen their allies and their enemies. Juan was encouraged that no one kept their gaze on him for too long.

The room was as silent as a tomb as they all waited for Bao’s command. It seemed like an eternity, and Juan struggled to keep his mind in the moment. He just started to drift again when he heard her say calmly: “Begin.”

His mind snapped back to the present, and then turned off as he let instinct take over. He just knew there was someone trying to be sneaky and come at him from behind. He ducked low and turned 180° slamming his baton up and into the abdomen he knew would be there. The body dropped, and Juan touched the tip of his baton to her chest as she fell, sending a debilitating shock that would keep her down.

Without breaking stride, he engaged with the next student. Feinting forward, he drew a hard slash which he easily parried while throwing a kick to the knee. The student’s momentum carried him forward, and he put too much weight on the distressed leg. He too fell and received a jolt from Juan’s baton.

As he did a quick scan for his next challenger, he detected a shadow in his left peripheral. Evading would take him off balance, so Juan ducked low and drove his body toward the attacker. He never did find out who it was, but he heard a crack as the body went flying into a wall. No need to follow up with a jolt on that one.

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Now he had some space and could see there were six students left standing. The closest were a pair who were working together. They engaged, spreading themselves apart, flanking him. He was too far from a corner to cut them off, so he needed to be aggressive. Slowing down would only give them more time to plan and work together.

He feinted to the left and then committed to his right with a charge. His hope was to get inside the other’s defenses. But the kid was too good, he backed up allowing Juan to claim the space and now the two opponents were directly on either side of him, exactly where they wanted to be. Juan resisted the urge to flail out. Now was the time to be aggressive, but not sloppy. He knew they would start closing the trap.

Juan pivoted perpendicular to the two, facing the far wall and keeping each in his peripheral vision. They both circled to his back, and he would need to turn to see at least one of them. He drove right with his baton raised high but continued his momentum around. The one behind him had taken the bait and charged, realizing too late that Juan had turned the move into a spinning back kick. His heel struck directly in the opponent’s sternum. Juan didn’t need to check this one either, the thud on the floor gave him all the intel he needed.

The other one, angered by the elimination of her friend, screamed and charged with a barrage of strikes. He tried blocking, but in her rage the attacks were too fast and coming from too many angles. He was able to focus on the tip and avoided jolts, but at the expense of his forearms and shins as he blocked.

Finally, he was able to anticipate one of her strikes. He reached out, caught her wrist, and twisted into a cartwheel throw. She landed with a hard thump but sprung back to her feet. Attacking blindly, she rushed into the tip of Juan’s baton and dropped just as quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Juan scanned the scene. Two fighters left, and one much bigger than the other. They were all tired and the smaller one- her name was Rae- was clearly losing the advantage her speed previously provided. The larger one– of course it was Troy– was toying with her, buying some rest time, before the final battle. When he noticed Juan was free, he dealt a heavy punch to Rae’s stomach, dropping her to her knees. She was bloodied, barely conscious, and starting to keel over when Troy stopped her from falling. At first, Juan was pleased, thinking his fellow student was showing mercy, but quickly realized he was only lining her up for a brutal overhead strike. There was no need for it, she was a downed opponent and clearly done. Even more disgraceful, Rae was a fellow Guard track grunt who would soon swear the same oath they all would.

Before the blow could fall, Juan had raced across the divide and tackled Troy. They fell in a heap, and both sprung up facing each other. In his haste, Juan had lost his baton and had to play defense. Arms wide, he locked his eyes on the brute’s chest. Anticipating the attacks, Juan ducked, backed away, and feinted forward. Without a weapon, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was hit.

Luckily, the brute was angry. His attacks all had bad intentions; they were powerful, but slow. Hoping to draw him out, Juan chuckled, smiled, and taunted. Troy launched a combination with extreme force. Juan guessed correctly that this would be the basic four-strike sequence they had drilled since the first day of Guard school. He absorbed the first three strikes with his defenses but pivoted at the fourth. The brute had overcommitted. Juan used the momentum to trip him to the floor and then pounced, locking in a choke hold. It was over a few seconds later.

Rising slowly to his feet, Juan was exhausted but elated. He had bested his classmates and won the day– plus a special assignment at guided duty that night. Smiling ear to ear, he stumble-walked toward his Shifu. For her part, Bao did not move, betray any emotion, nor did she even signal that the event was over. That last point troubled him. A nagging voice roared in the back of Juan’s mind for a split second before he realized his mistake.

He turned around to find a weapon but was interrupted by a swaying, smiling Rae, holding her baton less than an inch from his chest. He could hear the hum coming from the tip and felt the vibrations in the sweat on his chest hair. He was still contemplating his error when her smile broadened, and she pressed the baton forward. He remembered only a quick pain, and then an extreme numbness as his ears erupted in silence. Everything went black.

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If she were detected she could make the NetGuard monitors think she intended to go in one direction and then trap them in their own gridlock while she made her escape. Not that she intended to be detected, but even the best laid plans could get derailed.

The cog moved her into position, and she dropped off. Landing on another gear, this time she ran against its momentum and grabbed a hanging chain. She climbed to its node and checked her tether. As expected, she had just a few more maneuvers to get to her portal. It was always a good idea to check the tether, even a veteran like herself could get lost in the Smithy…or the Tianlong…or even the Krelnet for that matter. These webs were not meant to be traversed the way carps used them- jumping from net to net to steal information.

It was a dangerous career, but one that both paid well, and afforded her ample opportunity to stick it to the powers that had oppressed her and her people for centuries.

Those powers seemed to be closing in though. As she made her final moves to the exit, she thought about the close calls she and the team had lately. Someone somewhere was starting to catch on to their tricks. It was only a matter of time unless they found a way to change tactics. Maybe that was why she was being so careful tonight.

She made it to her portal. With the practiced habit of a seasoned carp, she slid through the hole, into the PubWeb where she could safely disconnect, and then logged off back to the real world.

It was on fire.

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Opening her eyes, she saw the flames on the roof of the van. Her senses returned with a lurch as her partner made a hard turn at the wheel. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and fought the panic welling up in her chest. Opening them again, she unhooked herself from the chair and made her way to the front of the van joining her team’s neuro sync while she moved.

“What’s happening?”

“Welcome back! They found us. Dunno how?” The big man was calm as ever, even amongst the chaos.

Their partner flying the drone above chimed in, “The jiju was on me first, but it wasn’t expecting the flares. Scared it off, but not before it detected the van.”

The driver spoke, never taking his eyes from the road. “We got some tricks left, but we’ve never fought a jiju before. Should be interesting!”

The final word came out in a pained shout as a tentacled pincer smashed the windshield and struck the driver in the right shoulder. He kept the van on the road, steering somehow with his right hand and knees. Gripping the tentacle in his left hand, he pulled the pincer out– augmented strength from old military upgrades making the move possible.

“It’s on top of us.”

She made her decision. “I’m gonna hack it.”

Already moving back to her chair, the driver yelled out. “Bad idea. The security protocols on those things are nuts. You’ll be booted before you even get to the first node.”

“We’ll see. Got a few tricks of my own.”

The driver turned his attention back to the road. “Whatever you’re gonna do, you better make it fast. A whole NetGuard contingent is up ahead. Got nowhere left to run.”

“Roger that.” She said as she hardlined back in, already forming her plan. I’m gonna sick that spider on them then make it self-destruct…somehow.

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