Page 106 of Light Leech

“Since fleeing his country for political refuge, Nebokov has disappeared from all social networks. Many Medislavian forms suggested that he might have been apprehended by Pavtov-loyalists prior to his escape, but the clear face match contradicts any said sources, despite the change in his hair with a notable skunk stripe.”

“Zeg, I should have covered that up.”

She patted my thigh. “It’s fine, you weren’t watching out for yourself.”

“While this scene occurred just moments ago, theories are already circulating about Naoma’s turn for the political, noting Nebokov’s political stance against Pavtov, who is laboring with the Republic to extract resources from corrupt Arabasian moguls.”

She laughed. “They’re really twisting this one now, aren’t they?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there are arguments on the other side that praise you for helping Arabasia.”

“Making a brainwashing mindshow is hardly ‘helping.’”

I shrugged, hoping she felt it with her shoulder against mine, as our sight was blocked by the news.

I moved the progress on the report forward, seeing that there was live coverage.

”–drones have since lost their skyride’s direction due to security interference, but do not worry. We aim to provide any further coverage on Naoma’s return beside the political activist, Petya Nebokov.”

The coverage ended. Before she could speak, I moved to a suggested option titled: Who is Petya Nebokov, Naoma’s newest lover?

Neither of us spoke through the Haven Health ads that played before it.

An option appeared. Would you like to fast-forward to personal relevance?

I selected, yes, thanking the AI interface for one of the rare times that it was useful, despite the lack of privacy.

“This Petya kid was just another wannabe who saw what the Republic had to offer and let that corrupt his view of his home because he wanted the light we have here. I don’t have time to cover all his flaws, but links in the description below are only a fraction of the evidence that proves that this kid had no idea what he was talking about. He lucked out on the algorithm and thought that he understood his president’s motivations. I’m sure once Haven Health executives see how his political lunacy opposes the current extraction effort alongside Pavtov, his deportation will be expedited.”

I was fuming and would have broken the coverage in half, had it been on a screen before me. The smallest ounce of patience I had held me back from exiting as I selected the next portion of the video: A false account of immigration detainment.

“Prior to Nebobov’s disappearance, he left an account of his detainment experience while trying to leech off of the Republic’s resources like many other supposed ‘refugees.’ If you want to see my arguments elsewhere regarding Pavtov saving his country from economic and political disasters, you can check the link in the description.”

My frustration almost exploded into laughter as this supposed political commentator lost all credibility.

“First red flag, Nebokov omitted the name of his detention center in his final report to his anti-Pavtov cult. A string of theories can be listed as to Nebokov’s method of illegal Republic entry, which any affluent out-of-touch influencer could have attained. To dramatize his story, he listed being sleep deprived, starved, and kept in filthy unlivable circumstances. Multiple forms have responded to his claims in anger, leading to violent actions towards the Republic’s immigration enforcers.”

I ejected from the Neurospace, slamming my fist on the seat. I never wanted to lash out in front of Naoma.

I thanked God, not the pitiful lie of lucre that these fools prayed to, that Naoma held to me. Zeg the Light. It was as much a fabrication as any of this shac’s claims against me. Akna’s Cross following had awoken me to the faith I had forgotten. I was done praying to the Light.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a soft caress as comforting as my lost mother.

“It’s–” I shook with clenched teeth. Zeg it. I can’t take this. I can’t risk this bleeding out into the hunger that was rising into me. She couldn’t see a ravenous hunger ever again.

I tapped a worrytab and let it dissolve my hatred and wrath.

I sighed and leaned forward. I realized she was still linked to my neurosystem. She had seen the cause of my sudden relief.

“I don’t blame you,” she said.

If she could stay with me now, I was sure she would be there to comfort me with the crashing after-effects of a worrytab’s withdrawal.

I laughed, frustration still apparent like a stain on a smoker’s teeth. “They called it extraction. A whole zeggin’ war. Terrorism. They call it ‘extraction.’ I can’t even argue with this guk.”

I looked up at her, feeling a sting in my eyes.

“I believe you.”