“You have a gift,” she called after me, her voice dripping with something too smooth, too rehearsed. “We could help you, you know.”
I stopped, my jaw clenching.
My Flux was under control—had been for months with no Vector to feed it—but the idea that they could sense it made my skin itch.
“Not interested,” I ground out, turning just enough to give her a look that should’ve told her to back off.
She smiled wider. “You were meant for more.”
I turned on my heel and left them behind, their voices fading into the background hum of the city.
There was no god in Neo Stellaris—except for the one who sat on the top floor of POM Enterprises.
I walked toward the clinic, and the endless torrent of rain harassed me as I pushed past the automatic front doors.
The lobby was filled to the brim with the city’s refuse. Human lives no one cared for and found easier to ignore than deal with. The whole place stank of unwashed bodies and various fluids. Many present had the telltale shakes, here hoping for some relief from the misery of drugs leaving their body.
My pinky twitched, an echo, but I shook it off.
I pushed my way through the crowd, shoving a man—who was naked under a long coat—out of the way as he tried to show me the porn holo he was watching.
If the Church wanted to help people, they should be inside here, actually helping those in need. That never seemed to be the case.
I made it to the permanent resident ward, waving my hand over the access point. The portal flashed blue—and then red.
The automated receptionist flickered to life, her synthetic face stretching into a neutral expression.
“Healthcare proxy E-11749. You have an outstanding balance of 32,634 creds. Please submit payment.”
I swallowed, shifting on my feet. “I need an extension.”
The AI blinked at me. “Request denied.”
I exhaled sharply. “Look, I can work off some of it. Another contract, another—”
“Request denied.”
My fingers curled into fists. “Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
The AI didn’t answer. It didn’t need to. We both knew what happened to people who couldn’t pay.
“I just want to see my mom…”
Even if, after the accident, she didn’t recognize me half the time. Just sat in her room wailing and fighting the staff.
“Please return within twenty-four hours with payment or Patient-28945 will be—”
“I know!” I screamed, and the AI blipped away.
“How rude.” A soft, lilting voice chimed in my ear. “Some of these earlier models have no sense of decorum.”
“DITA, they’re programmed to have no empathy. That’s why they do this job.”
I heard her digital huff. “Still rude.”
DITA, my personal Digital Intelligent Technology Assistant.
When the craving for drugs had hounded me like…well, addiction…I’d immersed myself in the only thing that truly brought relief. Cyberspace. In my time there, I’d modified the Chinese ICE Breaker, improved it. I’d trained it on my own cyberrunning knowledge, given it an actual personality filter, and a slightly less ridiculous avatar.
