Mako awoke to loud clanging. She sat up and clutched her backpack like a shield.

  It was just the garbage. The collector grabbed the trash bag she had been using as a pillow and threw it in with the rest of his haul in his pushcart. Shaggy gray hair sprouted from under his bucket hat like roots, his tattered jacket stuffed with knick-knacks.

  Mako pulled a candy wrapper from her hair and tossed it in with the rest.

  He gave her something of a smirk.

  “What?” she said.

  “Nothing,” he said, the smile fading. “Got any meat on you? It’s 20 unnies a kilo.”

  “Meat?”

  “Metal. Iron or steel,” he said more slowly.

  Still groggy, Mako had to process what he was asking. She shook her head.

  She squinted at the clear blue sky. The storm yesterday was nowhere to be found. It couldn’t have been later than 9, but already, the sun bore down on her like an oven toaster. She forgot how intense it could be without the dome mellowing it down.

  The collector man asked another question.

  Mako wiped her face with her sleeve. “What?”

  “First time?”

  “No.” Not for a while, at least.

  “Sure.”

  She watched as he continued his work in silence, manually segregating the trash into residuals and perishables, with scavengables into separate containers. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but he’d probably pawn it at a junk shop.

  As scrumptious as the meal was last night, her funds wouldn’t last.

  “So,” she said, trying not to sound too eager. “How did you end up doing…” she gestured vaguely to his work.

  He shrugged. “You do what you have to.”

  “True. But, er, if one had to…”

  He jabbed a thumb behind him. “It’s just a few blocks down, take a left at B. Tengan.”

  “Mm, thanks, but what's down a few blocks, exactly?

  The directions led her to a community basketball court, though it didn’t look like it had been used for that purpose for some time. The backboards were rimless, the floor markings faded, but at least the court was shaded from the sun.

  On one side of the court, officials manned some tables littered by paperwork. People lined up on stools by the desks, while others lazed on a dusty stone bleacher, flocking around a giant electric fan like flies to trash. They were dressed simply in shorts and t’s, slippers and sandals. A few attempted shirts with buttons and collars.

  Most everyone was looking down at their smartphones. It seems only the AI-powered devices woke up, leaving only the old-school smartphones. Made one wonder what was happening on Coralesia social media when the bots were, well, no longer bots.

  Someone called out a number, and a man in the front row made his way to a desk and shook hands with the uniformed official. He slid over a sheet.

  Then it hit her. This was a job office. Perfect. Mako’s last job interview was years ago with a virtual AI interviewer, but how hard could it be?

  She asked for directions to the nearest bathroom. When she got there, she was sure she was in the wrong place. That lidless, seat-less thing couldn’t have been the toilet, right? The smell gave her the answer.

  After freshening up and changing, she emerged from the alleged bathroom and returned to the court.

  The lines had grown. A few of the new arrivals were dressed like they were from Day City. She caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd and a tuft of blue hair. And then it was gone. She stood on her toes but couldn’t spot her quarry. Must have been her imagination. It’s not like she knew anyone from this neighborhood.

  She took her place on the last chair in line and waited. And waited.

  A few paces ahead of her, a woman in a dark dress and heels was arguing with the employment official.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you mean, there are no jobs for fashion designers?”

  “We have a position as a seamstress in one of our outsourcing—”

  “What do you think I am?! A dry old crone?”

  The official winced and adjusted his wiry glasses. “There’s also textile manufacturing, if you’re…”

  Mako couldn’t hear the rest.

  He continued in hushed tones until the lady’s voice rang out: “For how much?!”

  This went on for a bit, but eventually, the woman left without a job, though at least she still had her ‘dignity’ as she said.

  Mako prepared her answers to whatever questions the interviewer might have. It was nearly noon by the time she reached the end of the line.

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  The official leaned against his hand, fanning himself with a manila folder. “And what about you?” he asked without looking up.

  “I heard one could find employment here?”

  “Qualifications?”

  Mako listed her degrees and accolades.

  He didn’t budge one bit. “Any work experience?”

  Sigh. Looks like there was no avoiding it. She leaned in and whispered, “I was part of the R&D department of MegaCorp.”

  His eyes widened and stared at her from under his glasses. “So it was you who—”

  “No one needs to know.”

  “Any special skills you would like me to take note of?”

  She listed dozens of programming languages, made clear her specialization in Artificial Intelligence and robotics, and added a bit about her ‘perfectionism’ and ‘attention to detail’.

  “I see.” He nodded unconvincingly as he leafed through his ream of papers. “What do you think of a career in teaching public school science in one of the remote villages?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m sure the kids could benefit from your specialized knowledge.”

  “Please, specialized doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  “Let me give you some advice, Miss.” He dropped the stack of application papers in front of Mako. “Take the job, any job. You can’t be picky this side of the wall.”

  “You don’t understand what I’ve gone through to get where I am.”

  “And I have an MFA, look where that got me.”

  “That’s not my fault.”

  “Weren’t you the guys who made the AI that won the national book award?”

  “Nominated. And it was AI-assisted, not generated. If you’d just—”

  “Let me guess, embrace advancements in technology, leverage the competitive advantage, and”— he gestured to his surroundings —“adapt to changing circumstances rather than resist them.”

  Mako raised a finger but bit her lip. Maybe he had a point. She sat back and took it all in.

  A few paces behind the desk, a stray dog raised its ass and dropped a bomb. Afterwards, it ran off to a corner to sip from a drying puddle from yesterday’s storm.

  Nope, Mako wasn’t going to settle. To hell with changing circumstances.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I ought to accept the challenge.”

  “That’s good to hear.” The interviewer handed her a pen. “If you’d just fill this up, we could get you started in—”

  “You misunderstand. If you have no suitable opportunities for me, then I guess I’ll just have to make my own.”

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Ma’am, but—”

  “Thank you for your time and consideration.” Mako stood. “Have a good day.”

  Before he could finish, she stormed off with a grin on her cheeks. She emerged from the court and into the sun. That’s right. She was a scientist and engineer of the highest caliber. Solving problems was what she lived for. This was just the next in a long line of them, and she’d be damned if she was going to stop now.

  First thing Mako did was return to where she slept and look for that scavenger. But he wasn’t there anymore, so she asked for directions to the junk shop instead.

  His collection of scrap metal and discarded gadgetry had given her an idea. She’d been picking computers apart and putting them back together since she was a kid. And that was way before AI coding assistants were around, but it didn’t stop her before. Yeah, that’s right. She could collect old electronics and make something new with them. Or maybe she could get a start fixing people’s devices. It was something. From there, she would work her way up the ladder and dismantle the robot revolution one transistor at a time.

  Somehow.

  Now, was it turn left on Pako street or right? It was hard to tell because some corners didn’t have signs on them, and the alleys sort of just bled into each other. After a while, she strayed to a part of town that was a little dimmer and tighter. The crossing wires and overhangs cast shadows on the dirt tracks caked with mud.

  She picked at random and turned left. That was when she caught a glimpse of two men in the reflection of a shop window. They stood several paces behind her and seemed to be looking in her direction. They also wore matching jackets, which was never a good sign.

  No. Mako refused to panic. No need to jump to conclusions. But just in case…

  At the next opportunity, she took another left turn. And another. Her ears confirmed what her eyes didn’t want to check by looking back. Her heart thumped in irregular beats. She walked a little faster, and the footsteps from behind echoed her pace.

  She kept brisk walking until she reached a wet market thronging with shoppers. The fishy scent overwhelmed her senses, but she couldn’t turn back now. Covering her nose with her sleeve, Mako dived into the fray. She bumped and brushed against the market goers and almost got run over by a rickshaw. Still, she continued swimming against the current.

  She emerged from the crowd and nearly knocked into a man hefting a crate of shellfish. He swore something fierce at her, and Mako stammered an apology, ducking away.

  But as she turned, she bumped into a wall wearing a dark leather jacket. A tattoo snaked around his neck and reached a wide smile dotted with a number of metal teeth.

  “Mind if we talk, poppet?” the man said.

  “No thanks.” Mako swiveled on her heels, but somehow, he was already standing behind her.

  Except it wasn’t him, only someone equally tall who looked exactly like him, save for the scar running over a red metal eye.

  “Sorry to bother you, excuse me.” She pushed past him and darted down an alley, heart pounding.

  She knocked over a bin and nearly tripped over a dog, but she didn’t stop. She ran and ran, her lungs bursting. The alley twisted and curved until finally it narrowed to a dead end.

  When Mako stopped and turned, the two cyberpunks were already standing in front of her.

  “Stay away,” she said, raising her hands. “I’m Japanese. I know Karate and Judo and…”

  “Chill, kroom, we don’t bite.” The man with the tattoo raised his hand like he was calming a kitten. The fact that his arm was a metal prosthetic didn’t help. And it wasn’t one of those sleek cyber-upgrades the wealthy modified themselves with, either, but a haphazard jumble of steampunk.

  Apart from the jackets, he and his buddy also sported matching buzz cuts so sharp a lawnmower could have cut them. In fact, they were identical in every respect… except for the parts where they weren’t.

  More footsteps followed until a third figure rounded the corner and came up behind the two punks. It was a woman, taller than Mako, and she was wearing the same jacket as the punks, though hers was a little too big for her. It hung open down the middle, revealing a crop top, tattoos, and piercings. The full set.

  The woman pulled off her hood, letting loose long braids of colorful hair that might have been squeezed out of a tube of flavored toothpaste. That was when Mako recognized her.

  “Raita?!”

  “Put that down.” Raita stepped between the two men and laid a hand on the metal arm.

  “What are you doing here?” Mako asked. “Who are these people? Are you in a gang?”

  Raita shot daggers at her two comrades. “What did I say about not scaring her?”

  The guy with the scar shrugged sheepishly. “You said to follow her, see where she goes.”

  Raita rolled her eyes and approached Mako.

  Mako said, “You better tell me what’s going on right now because I swear I’m about to—”

  Raita wrapped her in a hug. “When I heard the news last night…”

  Mako stood still as a pole. She hadn’t seen Raita for a while, and hadn’t been hugged for even longer. “It’s alright, I got out okay.”

  “You sure? Because if those clankers laid a finger on you—

  “No, really, I’m fine.” Gently, Mako pushed her back to arm’s length. Even though they didn’t exactly depart on good terms, Raita had nothing but concern on her face. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re okay, too,” Mako said. “Look, I’m sorry about—”

  “Hey, leave the past in the past. You’re here with us now, and that’s all that matters. How ‘bout we get you fixed up?”

  “Who’s we, exactly?”

  “Where are my manners? These are my coworkers, Raja and Nam Teja.” Raita nodded to Scar-face and Tin-arm, respectively.

  “That doesn’t explain anything.” Mako folded her arms. “What? Did I say something funny?”

  A stupid grin was plastered over Raita’s face. “You look like shit.”