Page 31 of Grimdark Magazine Issue 48

"I'm docking you a beer for anything you break. Two glasses, two beers. You Shades are a drain on society. Can't even wash the goddamn dishes."

Vivian didn't answer, just methodically made her way through the rest of the stack. At the bottom of the sink, one of the plates was cracked in half. She washed it anyway and set it on the counter with the others. It was well past midnight now, only a few hours until her next shift at ZimCorp.

B.B. closed up, and Jazz came into the kitchen with three bottles of beer.

"That one was broken in the bottom of the sink. I didn't do it."

Jazz shrugged. "You complain, B.B. will probably report you. And does your auntie really need more than three beers?"

Vivian needed the points more than she needed the beer, and she was lucky that B.B. had paid her at all. Or maybe he hadn't and Jazz was working around him. "Thanks."

There was an awkward pause as Vivian carefully packed the beer bottles into her threadbare backpack. To her surprise, Jazz tossed her a token with a few credits on it.

"What's this?"

"You've been in here so many times, you almost feel like a friend, even if I don't know your real name or anything." Jazz shrugged, then her silvery Generic overlay turned and walked toward the door. She paused in the doorway and looked back at Vivian, the face of her overlay expressionless as always. "Don't come back."

It stung. Vivian wanted to leave the token as a dramatic gesture, but credits were hard to come by. She shoved the token in her pocket. This always happened, eventually. She wasn't worth the risk. People had to look out for themselves. "Goodbye, Jazz."

* * *

Everything cast a shadow, even the city itself. Underground, beyond the reach of sunlight, there were apartments tucked between the giant pipes and tunnels that carried away the city's waste. The shadow city had no roads, no cars--the Shades who lived here walked to work along the tops of sewage pipes and on the narrow sidewalks that lined the wastewater tunnels. It was dank, dark, damp and miserable, and no civilized person would ever go there. Even Vivian usually stayed surface-side, but Auntie Yang was a known rebel—she lived underground to dodge the Keepers.

The tunnels were a maze, lit by flickering blue lights, dim and placed too far apart to cut through the darkness. Vivian walked along a memorized series of turns, fourth tunnel left, second tunnel right, over the extension ladders that someone had cobbled together as a makeshift bridge. The tunnels smelled like piss and mold with a persistent overlay of lemon that even shadow prison filters used to try to cover some the stench.

Vivian climbed out of the tunnel and squeezed between two massive green sewer pipes, and stood on the doorstep of Auntie Yang's apartment. It'd been months since she'd been to visit, and maybe the old woman that everyone called Auntie no longer lived here. For all she knew, Auntie no longer lived at all.

Vivian pounded on the door, and stood back far enough for Auntie to see her through the viewer, not that there'd be anything to see but a Shade.

"I'm not worth the trouble."

Auntie usually had a creaky voice, but today all Vivian could hear was the bland voice of a Citizen. But the words sounded like something Auntie would say.

"Neither am I," Vivian answered.

They stood in silence on opposite sides of the still-closed door.

"You don't sound yourself today," Vivian said. If this wasn't Auntie, offering up the beer was a waste of beer at best and a world of trouble at worst.

"Ah, a regular who has been away. But which one, I wonder?" A Citizen opened the door and studied her. "I have a soft spot for old women, having been one myself. Come in, child."

Vivian cocked her head. Auntie Yang should not be able to see that she was old, but she'd always called everyone child. The interaction was a mix of right and wrong, and there was no way out of it now without risking precious points.

"The worst that can happen is death, and even that brings freedom from the hell we live." The Citizen held the door open.

"I brought beer." Vivian held up a bottle.

"More than just the one, I hope."

The Citizen turned and went down the hallway, walking in slow motion so that the image of a youthful Citizen could match pace with the labored waddle of an elderly woman. Vivian closed the door behind her and followed.

"Why can't I see you?" Vivian asked. Auntie had never bothered with an overlay before.

"Beer first, beer first." The Citizen ushered her into Auntie's apartment, and as she stepped inside, the old woman suddenly looked as she should.

Vivian stared. It was so good to see something other than a generic overlay.

"I never know who will come knocking at my door, and having my apartment project the Citizen overlay is a simple trick, child," Auntie explained, misinterpreting Vivian's stare as one of surprise. "You don't mind if I call you child? You're not young, but you're still younger than I am."