Page 80 of Tapeworld Induction

“Let’s go!”

Brixton and Oldton shared commonalities with many non-central boroughs. The floor was plastered with fake chicken bones. The walls had been dirty for fifty years, pre-rebellion. Grime, dust, dirt accumulated on top of grime, dust, dirt. Yet the people were genuine, for all the lack of council funding.

An antithesis to Dylan’s neighbourhood, which was further out of the central radius. Trees and semi-detached homes, the occasional park. Part of the cost of that was knowing too much about your neighbours, she thought. Less private life.

Dylan, Talia, and Sacha stepped out of the carriage.

“This is it, ladies.”

It was market day. Stalls lined the road beneath the raised train track, continuing all the way into the neighbourhood. There were stalls for cheap VR headsets, stimulant injectors, various hallucinogenics, vinyls, militaria, antiques, barbecue paraphernalia, comics, and old cameras.

They soon made it to Isaak’s. An ancient four-storey block of flats on a road full of other, similarly ancient, buildings.

“Should we ring?” she asked.

Sacha shook his head. “He hasn't replied to you for a few days, or to my message tonight. Something’s up.”

The implication of what he said made her insides hurt. “Then how are we going to get in?” She tried the front door as she spoke, and it immediately gave way.

“Like that!” Sacha gave her a know-it-all grin. “Top floor.”

“Is there a lift?” Talia looked around with a hopeful expression. There was a dingy-looking metal door at the end of the corridor.

But Sacha made for the stairs, ushering them to follow. “Death-trap.”

Three flights to the top. Nothing much for Dylan, but she felt sorry for Isaak, having to climb that every day with his injury. Poor thing.

They gathered around the door to his flat.

“I’ll make up an excuse if someone shows up. Get to it, guys,” Talia said. She stood at the mouth of the corridor.

“Get to what?” Dylan whispered. “Are we breaking in?”

“Shhh,” Sacha said, finger to his lips.

“I’m already whispering!”

Sacha knelt in front of the door, pulling two metal prongs of different lengths out of a pocket, and sticking them in the keyhole. A thunk of metal against metal. “I lock-picked the door but—”

“You did the lock already?!”

Sacha smiled. “You think I wear this tool vest because it’s fashionable?” He pushed the door open until it hit a chain. More than one chain was visible, and the opening was only a few inches wide, not large enough for any of them to fit through.

“What now? Have you got a blowtorch in there?”

He chuckled. “Sadly not. And no bolt-cutters or hacksaw either. We’ll never get in that way.” He looked around, and walked quietly back to the stairwell.

Talia looked confused, hissing, “What are you two doing?”

Dylan shrugged, looking to Sacha, who was peering out of the window.

“How do you ladies feel about heights?”

“Very little, if I’m honest,” Talia answered quickly.

“I respect them.”

Sacha nodded at the window. “Would you be willing to respect them around the outside of the building?”