When Malory reached the plaza outside the tower, the first thing that drew her attention was the large statue of ZenTech’s founder. The man, whose visage was forever cast in treated bronze, presided over everyone that passed as if he’d ascended to godhood. In life, he had been a scientist. Lab coat clad, research papers in hand, an honored symposium speaker. When he figured out how to pair DNA with metal, he launched his company on the premise of safe and secure implants; gone overnight was the fear of bodily rejection and the need to take immunosuppressants. Behind the statue, sixteen hundred feet of glass and concrete rose from the earth, a corporate fortress erected at the center of a network that spread like metastasized cancer. Malory wondered if those at the top could see the disease underneath, all the children, the scarred lungs like hers, or if they looked out at the horizon of a world long conquered. She climbed the marble staircase that led to the entrance and noticed a memorial plaque for Herman Mitchell, the CEO assassinated during the Prophet’s uprising. The man’s death ended their stranglehold on internal tech, a broken monopoly that fostered in the golden age of chrome and mercs.

  She pushed through revolving glass doors to the lobby, her senses assaulted by crisp reds and golds and so many holograms suspended from the vaulted ceiling—attention commanded by space and luxury, corporate propaganda descended from the heavens. The soft jingle of board-approved music and the murmur of employees serving the visitors tangled in the air. She made her way to the reception desk, hyper aware of how she was dressed, and waited in line. The people around her made her feel small, draped in so much wealth and a childhood free from want. She overheard conversations about Helium-3 production levels, the escalating gang violence, and a new strain of the flu. The two men in front of her compared how much they invested in the new flavor of synth-soy paste, warned each other of the dangerous market bubble, and bragged about a celebrity influencer Mal had never heard of whose nudes leaked on the net. The line moved, and she shuffled forward. She had made peace with the internal conflict of using Nadia for the job by deciding to loop her in—they could solve the puzzle together like old times, and it would give them something to bond over if the reunion was awkward.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked. They made no effort to hide the disdain. A corporate dog sneering from the lap of their master.

  “I’m here to visit a university student,” Mal said. She shifted forward and leaned her arm on the counter. Smooth onyx caressed her skin.

  “Name?” The receptionist’s aura shifted to boredom as their eyes lit up with a search program. The poor didn’t deserve fawning hospitality, apparently.

  “Nadia,” Mal said. She drummed her fingers on the countertop and loved the texture. Thought she’d buy one if she was ever famous enough. “No last name.”

  “Right,” the receptionist said. That telegraphed one street rat come to visit another, the dregs of an overflowing sewer drain. “They have visitor approval. The fee is three hundred credits.”

  “Okay,” Mal said. She pulled out a chip from her pocket and pressed it to the display. She winced as it drained everything she’d made since joining the gang. The visit was still worth it, even without the job. It flashed payment received.

  “Take the elevator to the dormitory floor,” the receptionist said. The delivery was mechanical, and they froze for a moment while they searched the directory. “Look for room 413C. Your payment covers a single day. If you have not vacated the premises once twenty-four hours have expired, you will be found, and charged again. If you are unable to comply, you will be detained and forcibly removed. Enjoy your visit.”

  The elevator was made of glass, so Malory watched the lobby fall away from her as she rode to the middle floors. She felt dread infest her then, a looping thought that her connection with Nadia was too severed by time. That there was no recovery to be had. It would be easy for the little genius to find something new among like-minded peers, to get lost in the novelty and forget. To move on. Their lives had taken such a drastic departure, and the uncertainty, more than anything, gnawed at the base of her skull—at the lizard brain, the primal fear center that housed concepts like snakes, or abandonment and loss. When she reached the floor, she paused. There was real paneled wood there, as far as the eye could see. Soft arches demarcated each intersection, and holograms of lit candles floated near the ceiling and encased it all in a soft glow. She resisted the urge to run her hands along the walls and stuffed them in her pockets. She looked at each door as she went and noticed the students decorated them with nameplates in fun little ways that represented them. A pineapple here, a jellyfish there. When she found 413C, she took a deep breath and knocked three times.

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  “Just a second!” There was the rumble of falling parts, a stifled curse, the sound of footsteps approaching, then the door opened, and there she was—the same small frame in overalls, the tired eyes, the haunted doll’s voice. “I don’t remember ordering a stripper.”

  “It’s complementary,” Mal said. She committed to the bit and pretended to pull her jacket off while doing a little shimmy.

  “Get in here,” Nadia said. She grabbed Malory by the wrist and led her into the room.

  The place was a catastrophe; the larger space was taken by Nadia as tacit permission to fill it with inventions in every state of completion. On one side, the guts of a steam engine reimagined. On another, a hundred different iterations of robotic hands forever grasping toward the void. As Nadia led her through, she noticed incomplete neon signage, solar panels, a disassembled VR headset, the internals of an oversized compass, the scale model of a suspension bridge with a roundabout in the middle to straddle a skyscraper, the drivetrain of an electric scooter, motion sensors, armor-lined clothing, and so much more. There were no decorations in the place, but it was still so much concentrated Nadia it made her head spin. So much progress with access to proper resources and tools. Malory tried not to knock anything over as they went, but the smaller girl was insistent. Her knee slammed into the rusted pipe of a water filtration unit, and she resisted the urge to scream. Nadia led her to the bed, shoved her down, and undressed. There was no need for words between them, then, to get reacquainted, just the well-practiced movements of passion—they talked with their bodies until they were covered in sweat.

  “I missed you,” Nadia said. She breathed heavy, her hair stuck to the side of her face and draped over her eyes.

  “I am quite missable,” Mal said. She rested her hand on the other’s stomach and drew small circles. The motion was nostalgic.

  “I got a neural net slotted a couple months ago, and realized I still couldn’t talk to you,” she said. She rolled to her feet and started to dress.

  “I’ll have my own soon,” Mal said. She sat up and watched. Her skin was pale, and it glistened in the low light. “Big job came in.”

  “Black Hands?” she asked. The overalls slid on, and she buckled the suspenders. The denim was worn down, frayed around the edges.

  “Yeah,” Mal said. She shifted a little, felt the joints in her hips pop.

  “You were right,” Nadia said. She bent down to slip on her boots. “That was a pretty dumb idea. How much have you made since you joined?”

  “What I spent on the fee to see you,” Mal said. She expected they would lay in bed for hours and fill in the gaps of each other’s lives. Apparently not. “Going somewhere?”

  “We both are,” Nadia said. She finished tying the laces. “When you showed up in front of me, it felt like an unexpected dream. I just couldn’t help myself. Now that the tension is gone, I want to take you to my favorite place.”

  “Okay,” Mal said. She did as she was told. The clothes felt disgusting on her skin.

  “Oh,” Nadia paused. She tilted her head to the side, contemplated a moment, then flashed a wicked grin. “Are you still afraid of heights?”

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