Before dawn, Little Star had cleaned her grandmother’s body, moved her into a more dignified position, packed a few items, and left the building behind. Mawmaw had taught her well. Taught her to survive. When she was older, Little Star would realize that was by design. The world was a harsh place and one needed not only to be smart; they needed to know when to take action and when to hold back. Now was the time for both.
She needed to move. If the authorities found her alone in the home, they’d take her and she’d end up in the care of some slum lord who’d force her to grift for survival. And that was if she were lucky. There were worse places to end up in Nekonikon.
Still, the authorities had to somehow be alerted. Little Star would not leave Mawmaw’s body to rot alone in their apartment. It was bad enough her ghost would be stuck here, unable to join the ancestors in the white cloud in the night sky. At least the authorities would dispose of the body. But on this, she had to hold back. Little Star didn’t know how to send an anonymous message, and she couldn’t let them identify her.
She knew carps used scramblers, but she didn’t really know how to make one. Mawmaw had discouraged her interest in illegal hacking, but Little Star always enjoyed the holos, playing a rogue carp in the virtual world jumping from net to net, evading NetGuard monitors, and stealing important data. That fantasy was her favourite escape when life felt dreary. That, and solving the increasingly complex math problems that Mawmaw provided.
For hours she wandered through the streets of Skid Row, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the apartment. At sunrise, the morning fog rolled in heavily from Harborside, making the sky hang low and oppressive over the city. As the darkness receded, it became harder to see her surroundings. As the neon lights evaporated in the grey mist, her world became very small.
Fighting back the tears, she kept moving. As the walkways narrowed, she realized she had taken a wrong turn. Winding her way through back alleys, she sought a main thoroughfare, but found ever darker paths. Little Star’s heart beat faster, this didn’t feel safe, something was wron-
Little Star never did feel the blow land. Didn’t see whomever stole her bag. All she was ever able to recall in the years that followed was waking up to a grey mid-morning, sprawled against a dumpster. She tried to stand, but her vision went fuzzy, a sharp pain behind her ear. On her hands and knees she retched, trying to vomit, but her empty stomach wouldn’t allow it. She heaved in vain for a lifetime before being able to sit upright. Her head throbbed, but it no longer felt warm. Probing gingerly with her fingertips, the top of her head was wet. The red on her fingers confirmed the injury.
After some time she was able to stand, she needed to clean her wound, rest, and get some food. But first, she needed to take care of Mawmaw. Lost now, with nothing, in the back alleys of Skid Row, she tried to focus on finding what she needed.
Who would know how to make a scrambler? Carps were notoriously hard to find, living off the grid, plying their trade and taking payment online. But surely, this place was as off-grid as one could get in Nekonikon. What would one of their homes look like? It’d need to look non-descript, but it would also need to be well-connected. It would probably draw more power than most shacks.
Little Star climbed up on the dumpster, then hopped across the narrow alley to a two-meter high brick wall, and stood. From here she could see the rooftops of the various hovels and shacks strewn about. In the distance, the skyscrapers of Cogstown towered over them, casting long shadows across the slums. Thousands of wires– thick, thin, metal, rubber, exposed– knotted over the area. She scanned them, looking for the shacks that had more than the regular amount.
It was hard to discern. So many wires seemingly growing from nowhere. She tried tracing them to their sources, but it was futile. Still she persisted. She knew her logic was sound and Mawmaw had always known her to be stubborn.
Then she spotted it, just as a fresh wave of doubt was rising in her heart. In the middle of the rat’s nest, a single hovel with too many wires. Now that she had spotted it, it seemed so obvious. Before jumping down, she traced the path she would need to take, repeated it in her mind, then tested herself. Once confident she knew the route, Little Star jumped down and made her way.
The hovel looked much like the others in the area, if a bit larger than average. The walls were made of thin metal plates, attached to a framework of cement, rebar, and wood. However, one key difference was the door. It was sealed shut without any gaps. For some reason she couldn’t rationalize, that fact made Little Star even more certain she was in the right place.
She stepped up to the door and pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge. She knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Nothing. Disappointed, she quirked her mouth to the side as she reviewed her options. Maybe they weren’t home. She could wait here for them to return, but if they spotted her waiting for them, what would they do? Should she hide? Surely a carp would have security methods to detect would-be spies.
Then she heard it. A shuffling inside. Someone was in there, she was sure of it. The gaps may be sealed, but the walls were still thin. “Hello!” She called out, hoping her young voice would not be taken as threatening. “I know you’re in there. I need help.”
Nothing.
But now she knew she had her quarry trapped. Now it was a waiting game and she was sure she was more stubborn. She knocked again. And again. And again. “I’m not leaving until you answer. I promise I just need something quick.”
Eventually the door opened and a gloved hand reached out from the darkness, “Well come on then,” the hand gestured inside. Without considering the risks she boldly marched in and the door slammed shut behind her.
The room was larger than she expected. Illuminated by a single lantern, she could see a bedroll laid out on the floor to one side, and– as expected– a large computer console on the other side of the room. In the middle there was a small kitchenette and shelves made from bricks and wooden planks.
“Who are you? How’d you find me?”
Little Star held her breath and turned around to meet her first real-life carp. She let out the breath, he was younger and smaller than she expected. In the holos, carps wore leather jackets and sunglasses. Their hair was dyed and spiky, and their arms muscled. The young man in front of her was short and gaunt. He wore a dirty tank top that must’ve once been white. On his head sat a red cap with flaps down the side of his face, and where she might have expected a razor-edged goatee, his bare face showed only the faintest hint of a beard. Like the fuzz on the peach that Mawmaw had brought her one time.
Mawmaw. The memory flooded back, and despite herself she burst into tears and dropped to her knees.
“Hey hey hey, it’s OK,” he rushed in close and stepped back once he saw the gash on the top of her head. “Oh my. OK, kid, we gotta take care of that, come with me.” He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it, but she stayed still. Hating herself for her tears, Little Star couldn’t bring herself to move. “I-I’m gonna lift you OK? Just gonna take you over there to rest.”
She allowed him to pick her up and carry her to the bedroll. As he laid her down and turned back towards his kitchenette, her eyes drooped heavily. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was being surprised at how easily he was able to carry her. He’s stronger than he looks.
***
She awoke much later, lying on her side facing the metal wall. Rolling over, she found him hardlined into his console, the red and green lights on his neuro were solid, which told her he was unaware she was up. Her head still hurt as she sat up, and she reached up to touch it finding a fresh bandage wrapping her tiny skull. At her feet she noticed an unopened energy drink can, a cold burrito, and a package of red candies.
She wasn’t even aware of opening them, but the can was empty, the burrito was gone, and she was halfway through the candies when he disconnected the hardline and his neuro lights went dim.
“Good you’re awake. Was worried what I would do if you flatlined on me.”
“Tank yew” she managed to mumble through the gummies filling her mouth.
He smiled, “Heh, it’s OK kid. Cost me yesterday’s earnings to get the first aid kit and snacks, but it looks like you needed it.”
She nodded, still sitting with her back resting against the wall, munching, “A’ll pey y’eh back.”
“Ahh, don’t worry about it.” He turned his gaze to contemplate the door. “You were pretty set on getting in here…in your sleep, you kept mumbling about mama. What’s going on kid?”
She swallowed a hard lump of refined sugar and red dye, “Last night. They killed Mawmaw. I need a scambler…” she grimaced as the traitorous tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
He nodded, “I’m sorry kid. Losing your mom’s not easy. You wanna report the body is that it?”
Little Star nodded, “She was my grandmother.” She looked down at the plastic bag in her hands and set it aside, her appetite gone, “Mom and dad died a long time ago.”
“What’s your name kid?”
She met his gaze, “What’s yours?”
“You can call me iRroc.”
Despite herself she snickered, “That’s not a name.”
“In my line of work we make our own names. My real name is Quinton, but I don’t think anyone knows me by that anymore.”
“Your parents are gone too?”
“Probably. Whoever or wherever they are...or were,” he shrugged too nonchalantly. They sat in silence for a moment, before he continued, “If you give me the address and apartment number I’ll send your report for you.
She shook her head, “I want to do it myself. Can you show me how?”
“Ohhhh, you want to be a carp is that it?”
She held his gaze, waiting for him to blink first.
“Heh, I guess so. How’d you find me kid?”
“I looked for the house with the most wires.”
He nodded, a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “Alright. Maybe I can show you a few things. We all gotta learn somehow.”
She smiled, her eyes drifted back to the candies. Her hunger returning, she snatched it back up and popped another couple in her mouth, chewing more slowly this time.
iRoc sat watching her, enjoying the scene. “So what’s your name kid?”
Little Star swallowed, “Mawmaw taught me names have power. That you should protect your real name.”
“OK,” he smiled, “make something up.”
She thought back to her Mawmaw, the last remnants of her old life fighting to survive, surrounded by death. “Call me Penny.”
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