Eve sends Ajax to kill Cain

## CHAPTER ONE - Cain and Ajax.

If you were to make the pilgrimage across sprawling plains and freezing lakes to get to Utopion, you would first have to cross The Hook, the slum that curves along the Bridged city walls. You would be tired. You would be hungry and thirsty. You would have one choice of a destination to satisfy your human needs before you made a case for yourself to undergo a Bridging surgery.

Mary did her best to keep The End of the World a friendly place. Situated on the cusp of Utopion and The Hook, it offered refreshment for Bridged and humans alike with a strict no violence policy. Like those that had their bodies shot through with glowing Omnium, her bar was a wooden masterpiece with neon veins, meant to represent the joining of organic matter and technology. Though she was Bridged herself, Mary made an effort to stay connected with those that styled themselves “Forgotten,” the humans who, by choice or by exclusion, would never Bridge.

On more than one evening, she found herself especially connected to Cain, a surly twenty-something that visited the bar nightly. Though he openly claimed to hate all things Bridged, he routinely sat before her, night after night, always with the same request. *Pour, Mary.* Cain didn’t look good tonight. As she poured his whiskey, Mary clocked the shadows under his eyes and a swollen cut on his lower lip, the kind made by chewing a wound. He was anxious. She finished the pour and, with a frosted pink smirk tilted the bottle one more time. A friendly top off. An invitation.

“What’s on your mind?”

Cain dragged the tumbler to himself, drinking half in one sip. “Another quack surgeon,” he growled. “Another idiot dead.” He threw back the whiskey with a scowl. “Another body in my alley. I’m sick of it.” “You can’t fix stupid.”“Stupid people want to fix themselves.” “You callin’ me stupid?” Grey eyes flicked up to meet hers. She held his gaze. The irony of her challenge pooled unspoken between them. Mary could roll her eyes back to receive infinite intelligence if she wanted to. Cain huffed a dry chuckle. “No, Mary. I am not calling you stupid.” “I could get you in, if you wanted. To the real surgeons.” “And risk a thirty percent chance of no neural network? Come out the other side a convenient machine? I’ve seen what happens to the people who don’t have ‘full success’ in their surgery. Utopion’s labor force. I’d rather my mortal coil flame out.” Mary topped off his tumbler and waited. Cain slurped the liquor down like water.

“At least machines don’t have demons.”

As she spoke the last word, she sensed something dark, an incoming presence. A headache pressured between her ears as she tried to register the intention. Tar. Fury. Storm. Ajax.

With superhuman strength she grabbed Cain under the arms and pulled him over the bar. “What the fuck?” “Get in!” she hissed, pulling up a sticky rubber mat to reveal a trap door. Cain obeyed, scrambling down dark stairs. “Do you have light?” “Yeah. Mary, what–” “Ajax.” “Shit. Thanks.” “The fourth exit on the right leads to a grate near your alley. Get your shit and go. He knows it was you.” “Mary–” “GO.” Mary straightened up and swept Cain’s glass away just as the door opened with a *bang*. A body towered, filling the frame. “You hidin’ a rat Mary?” “Ajax. Away from your Outpost again. Drink?

## CHAPTER TWO

Mary’s voice faded as Cain scrambled down irregular steps, hurrying to get ahead of the chase he knew was coming. *He knows.* His feet hit level ground with a *squelch*, slipping over sludge. Whiskey churned in his empty stomach and he pitched forward, catching himself on the cold stone wall. Shaking his head he ran, biting down on the corner of his mouth to a cut that wouldn’t heal, containing fear in a sting.

He was blind. He had matches, but did not want to use them, not when escape to the *outside* threatened his immediate future. He dragged his palm along the right side of the tunnel, feeling for the fourth opening that would lead him to his alley. *One…two…three…*clammy sweat beaded at his hairline as pressure closed against his lungs; there was little oxygen in the bowels of the slum. He collapsed into the fourth opening, a pathway so narrow that his shoulders bumped the walls as he stumbled through.

Finally, head aching, stomach churning, he passed under a stripe of yellow light. A small voice peeled above the grate. “Ricky’s ciggys! I roll it, you smoke it!” “Ricky!” Cain rasped. “Cayne? That you?” Ricky’s high-pitched twang sang through the night. Ricky was his neighbor, a straw haired child that arrived at The Hook out of the blue with nothing but a carton of cigarettes to trade for food. He was an instant target, so Cain took him in and set him up on the other side of the single wall that divided his shack. That carton provided them with a year’s worth of food. Having established his business, Ricky started to sell smokes of his own invention. As long as they weren’t lethal, Cain did not see the harm. People would trade most anything for a smoke, even if it was just mugwort and sawdust.

Now his worn rubber soles stood over Cain’s head. “Down here, Ricky.”

Wide eyes peered between the iron bars. “The fuck you doin’ down there?” “Get me out and I’ll tell you.” Ten minutes later, Cain was cramming a bundle of rat jerky into an overstuffed backpack. He clipped a dagger to his calf sheath and tucked his *whipclaw* under his right sleeve. A handy weapon of his design, the whipclaw was a flail for short distance combat. The retractable chain, anchored to a base at the user’s wrist, connected to a weighted sphere studded with three steel talons. It enabled the user to hook an enemy by the back of their neck while facing front.

Like Achilles, the Bridged had one vulnerability: the Omnium bind, an inch-long link that connected the synthetic Omnium vein to the brainstem. To Cain’s knowledge, severing this bind was the only way to kill a Bridged. It was the weapon responsible for the skull trophy that Cain kept as a reminder that even the Bridged were mortal.

A skull that belonged to Ajax’s friend.

“CAIN!” A gravelly voice bellowed outside. *Ruminate on the enemy, meet the enemy…* Cain readied the whipclaw, confident– “He’s not here!” piped Ricky from his street corner. “Noo Ricky,” Cain groaned, tearing through the door. Ricky stood with his arms crossed, eye level with Ajax’s stomach. “Shut up, worm.” A sickening *smack,* a yelp of pain. Ricky slumped against the wall, head lolling. Blood trickled over his freckles. “Feels good to beat on a kid?” Yellow eyes glared. Unlike Mary, whose headware blended with the contours of her face, Ajax looked mangled. Shreds of titanium winked at odd angles along his hairline, and a glowing cyst the size of a chicken’s egg swelled under his cheek.

“Must suck to be a monster after all that begging, huh *Greg*?”

Bridging was about reinvention and people styled fancy names for themselves once on the other side. Ajax used to be Greg, a slimy veteran that promised mercenary skills for entrance into Utopion. At Cain’s insult he charged, blinded by rage. Holding his ground, Cain flicked a toggle on the base of the whipclaw and jerked his wrist in a sharp circle, whipping the chain forward. The weight *whooshed* as it passed Ajax’s ear and Cain gave another jerk, retracting the ballistic talons smack into Ajax’s neck with a *crunch*. Cain wrenched the chain, throwing Ajax head first to the ground.

He knelt by the stunned body and wrestled the talons out of the ripped muscle. “Your vitals will start to power down after five minutes. This is how it ended for your rapist buddy too, but I’ll leave your ugly head alone,” he snarled. Ajax’s mouth twitched to a grim smile. Cain saw, with horror, his own face sneering back at him in Ajax’s retinas.

The Network. The *30 percent* were not supposed to have access to the Network. His image would be all over Utopion.

*Well. Good thing I’m leaving.*

Cain scooped Ricky and brought him inside, laying him on the nest of blankets that was his bed. Ricky’s blue eyes squinted, buried beneath swollen cheeks. “C’n…ev’rythn hurrs.” “I know. Listen.” Panic prickled under Cain’s ears. What did he have to say to Ricky? What good would he be once gone? “Listen…just–lay low for a while, okay? If someone asks for me, tell them everything. Don’t be brave. Protect yourself. Go to Mary if you have any trouble. Just–stay alive. That’s all you gotta do.” “Th’fuck you goin’?”

Guilt curdled Cain’s stomach. “The house is yours.” “Ca-ayne…” Cain lowered his eyes, pushing through his door for the last time. His stomach flipped. Ajax stood there, waiting. “Rat.” Charred skin blistered across Ajax’s chest. A thin tube ran from the back of his neck to a bag that he squeezed, pumping a vile orange liquid that sizzled under his skin.

Cain swallowed. *Omnium is blue…* Ajax’s yellow eyes were filmy and glimmering, darting wildly. He looked manic. *The fuck is he on?* Cain held his hands above his head and stepped backwards, feigning fear. Ajax advanced like a bottled storm. *Come on…* Finally, concrete gave way to a metal bar. In a flash Cain threw the grate to the side. Ajax roared, charging like a rabid buffalo, but Cain was quicker. He jumped into the small hole, too narrow for Ajax to fit. The monster clawed air as Cain fell to his slimy rescue.

This time Cain did not slip as he ran into the dark.

## CHAPTER THREE - One day earlier

Ajax curled his chin to his chest until a soft *hiss* indicated the release of the charging prong from the back of his neck. Agitation stirred his stomach. He looked at the meter above the omnium conduit. It blinked white, indicating correct dosage. Yet he itched for more. Since the latest batches of omnium had been distributed, Ajax noticed that the substance felt *viscous*, foreign in his body. Pleasurable, too. A little like liquor–that first swig like blistering syrup, painful and smoothing at once.

Ajax was mindful to imbibe only the required omnium for his size. But every time he unplugged himself from the conduit, a ghost asked for more. *Bridging literally breaks your brain*, Greg had heard at the jam packed bar all those years ago, crowded with people watching the livestream of Eli’s surgery. Slumped on his stool, sandwiched by strangers’ stomachs, he thought *sounds fucking perfect.* Finally, after eight years of waiting and begging, he got into Utopion. After the omnium had rippled through his body, he was allowed to style a new name for himself. He remembered the name of a warrior that he read about in high school. *Greg* pissed in a microwave in front of his kids, *Greg* burnt his hair on Christmas morning, *Greg* kept his bottles full so that he would never have to meet the bottom.

*Ajax* did none of those things.

He stomped outside. Rolling his shoulders, he looked in each direction, and began his rounds. Ajax was stationed in a modest outpost close to Utopion. The omnium source that the outpost guarded had long dried up, but the Council wanted to protect the outpost anyway, to prevent rebels from getting a hold on Bridged technology. A dense fog hung low, obscuring the view of the barren plain that stretched from the outpost to Utopion. Ajax halted, and stared into the endless grey. Through the thick mist a dark phantom snuck fast into view, growing larger as it advanced. Ajax readied his gun. This would be a nice break to the monotony.

But as the figure clarified, Ajax dropped his weapon and snapped his legs together in salute. It was a person on a councilor’s motorbike, recognizable by the Utopion sigil. The bike hummed for two seconds as it powered down, and the slim rider slid off. They removed their helmet. A curtain of sleek black hair fell to her shoulders. “At ease,” a clipped voice instructed.

Ajax relaxed his stance. “Councilor,” he rumbled.

Eve advanced toward the outpost entrance, scanning with crystal blue eyes the sleek building. “I’m here to see what’s left of this supply,” she swept her eyes to his, “And you.” Ajax stiffened. He had never been in the presence of a council member. It seemed odd that she was here, alone. “I felt like a ride.” A slight smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. Right. She had access to his– “Intentions, motivations, thoughts. Unlike you.” Ajax nodded. He was one of the unlucky bastards in the *thirty percent*, those who survived surgery but not with full success. He was near-immortal, faster, and stronger, but he couldn’t connect to the Network the way the fancy cyborgs could.

“Cyborg? Ajax. What do you think of this world? Are we just 1980s sci-fi to you?” Eve was fully smiling now, and strolled past him and the door to walk around the outpost perimeter. He followed, appreciating the leather riding suit that fit her athletic body like a second skin. “You are bored, Ajax. You are so bored that you would rather be on a punishing extraction mission in the arctic tundra.” “Yes, Councilor.” Eve faced him. The fog had lifted, and a pale sun shone a halo of light on the crest of her head. She unzipped a pocket in her jacket and took out a plastic pouch containing a neon orange essence. Its contents swirled and shimmered. Tiny crystals clung near the opening, where the substance met oxygen and calcified. “From a recent extraction. Those like you with no access to the Network have taken this strain of omnium, and describe a temporary connection.”

Ajax hesitated. “With respect, Councilor, why are you telling me this?”

“You want access to the Network and a job other than guarding this outpost. I can give you both of those things.” “What’s the job?” Eve stared out at Utopion in the distance. A horizontal stain marred the bottom of the view–the slanted roofs and jumbled buildings of The Hook. “You know Mary?” “The bartender?” “Yes. She has a fondness for a human,” Eve paused, “Through her I learned that he is the one that killed your friend. ‘Nick’?” A long face flashed in Ajax’s memory, along with an infectious laugh and a keen mechanical eye. Nick came out of surgery worse than Ajax, losing his eyesight in addition to being out of the Network, and the two had bonded over feeling like poor assholes stuck in a palace. They took to the slum at night for good old fashioned fun, and one night Nick *made the wrong choice* with a young woman.

Ajax found his beheaded body.

“Utopion has no need for rapists, but we can’t have a human with knowledge of our vulnerability either. His name is Cain. You will exterminate him.” “Councilor, I–” Ajax chose his words carefully. “This–” he looked at the bag, “This strain is something that might, uh…” Eve waited for him to finish. “That I might have a negative reaction to.” Eve’s look was unscrupulous. She stiffened, and her eyes dilated to black pools. As she shuddered they rolled up to the whites. Ajax wasn’t used to being around Network people. She looked possessed. Eve tilted her chin up, filled her lungs with air, and on the exhale brought a normal blue gaze back to Ajax.

“Sorry. I had to dip in to get a look at your memories. Ajax, we reap what we sow. Your observations are valid, but we must adapt. Or,” she crossed over to her motorbike and picked up her helmet, “Die.” The pouch of omnium warmed his hand as he watched her speed away in a cloud of dust, sparkling in the now blazing sun.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

Ajax’s neck stung where that punk’s weapon had ripped the bind, but the pain dulled as his vitals slowed. With his cheek pressed to the dirty slum street, he felt like his old self again. After a weekend bender, nothing felt better to Greg than a cold, hard floor.

But Greg was dead.

With aching effort Ajax pulled Eve’s gift from his utility vest. He had allowed himself the smallest dose prior to confronting Cain. It made him jittery, threw him off focus. Sending Cain’s image to the Network was worth it for the look of fear in the bastard’s eyes, but the effort of it felt like cleaving his own head. The remaining omnium swirled hot in his hand, as if it was excited. He shimmied onto his back and with a shaking hand connected the attachment end of the tube to his ravaged neck. He squeezed the pouch, pushing half of its contents at once into his body.

The effect was immediate.

Like a first gulp of oxygen after drowning, but his lungs were filled with fire and it was a charging bull that pummeled him with life. His legs pulsed with unspent energy. He leapt to his feet and his whole body spasmed, begging to rage. Red clouded his vision. Through the bloody haze he saw a thin, hunched man frozen in a door frame. Ajax could not think, he could only feel the hot breath of the bull as it snorted where his own face was, commanding: *Rip. Maim. Exterminate.* He struggled to speak; his mouth felt full of marbles, but he managed to spit out his last word:

“Rat."

## CHAPTER FOUR - God encounter

Charcoal outlines of the long tunnel blurred as Cain pressed forward. His clothes clung to him with sweat, the straps of his pack cut into his shoulders, but he would not slow down. If rest tempted him, he thought of Ajax’s sizzling skin and the image of his own face now circulating around Utopion. He was a dead man stumbling.

Questions he was too weak to decipher swirled in his aching head: how did Ajax have Network access? How did he know Cain would be at the bar? And, the one he did not want to think about: was Mary a part of this? Cain ran his hands along the side of the tunnel and startled when he did not feel stone; instead, the walls cut off to something ribbed and metal: an old stormwater drainage tunnel. Something winged and flapping smacked him in the face. The fright shocked a fresh bolt of adrenaline and Cain sprinted toward a window of light in the distance. He hoped for a sunny morning should he survive the night, as he sloshed through a low stream of water.

Can’t get far on rotten feet.

Finally, moonlight spilled into the end of the tunnel. Without pausing Cain ran through the graveyard of an old cul-de-sac, over tumbled street lamps and cracked pavement, exiting onto a barren field that stretched for miles. His breath grew ragged. Panic roiled his belly as he thought of his next steps. He would have to take his own advice: *Your only job is to survive*. Get to another tunnel, a bunker, some hole. Live life like a rat. Like what they told him he was. The field began to slope downward. Sweeping his eyes over the new horizon he noticed a dome shaped building, sleek and glowing in the night. *Fuck no.*

Cain pivoted, running away from the sure signs of Bridged technology. He spared a glance toward the Utopion skyline. His stomach fell to his feet. Like a bullet, the figure of Ajax charged with a stream of fire and dust at its wake. A steady battle cry rolled in the distance, growing in volume as the monster sped toward Cain. Cain gripped his whipclaw, palm sweaty against the handle, noticing with horror that Ajax had begun to run in a curve, *herding* Cain towards the glowing building.

If Cain continued to run straight he would willingly collide with Ajax. So be it. If he had to die, he’d at least try to take this motherfucker with him. At that moment, another winged thing flapped in his face. Followed by another, and another. Cain threw his arms up and looked toward the sky to see thousands of bats surging in flight, the sound of their rushing wings like a waterfall. He ducked his head and continued to run, sensing that even an apocalyptic swarm of flying mammals would not deter Ajax from his bloodthirst. Just as the sound of the bats had reached a din, the noise suddenly collapsed into silence, as if swallowed. Cain’s heavy legs slowed, rooting to the spot. His vision blurred and refocused on a loop, as if his eyes were involuntarily adjusting to an unknown light source.

A tinny ringing filled the silence. His head was frozen in the position of glancing upward, and he noticed that the bats had also stilled, though the very air surrounding their dark shapes wobbled with pulsing energy. And Cain realized that he had felt this before, just once, as a small child. Seeing his entire family crushed by rubble eclipsed the sense memory of being frozen to the spot; he always assumed he was just frozen in shock, the ringing in his ears and feeling of stopped time a natural phenomenon that would accompany any event of unfathomable trauma. An uncomfortable prickling sensation began to sweep across his body. He tried to yell but his throat was stuck, he could only see a section of his forearm in his periphery but it seemed like the outline of hand was turning static, *dissolving*. He attempted to move it, and watched as his fingers stripped away from the blurring edge.

If he took a step, he might walk out of his skin. Or, die at the hands of Ajax. Gritting his teeth, heart beating against his sternum, Cain forced a step forward. Pain sliced beneath his skin; he closed his eyes and saw the entire shape of his body alight with screaming nerves. He screamed too though he could not hear his own voice through the white noise that surrounded him, as he peeled himself away from the force. The ringing increased to a deafening wail as he stepped fully away from the shadow that held him. He was surely hallucinating, tripping on some omnium residue that made its way into his system from the tunnel, because what he saw made no living sense.

A wraith with a faceless maw bared down at him, a mass of scintillating static in crude human form. It hovered around Cain and started to shrink and sharpen, until it looked like a mannequin…with a backpack. Wearing Cain’s jacket. *Holding his whipclaw*–no, *no*, Cain gripped his weapon to be sure that this was a hallucination. *This* did not happen when he watched his family die. The imitator cocked its head as if studying Cain, and then, it was gone. And so was the ground. Cain felt himself grow shorter as the earth began to swallow his feet. Without pausing to think he flung the chain to a clump of hardy vines and hauled himself onto the shrub, away from the sudden sinkhole. After retching bile into the brambles, he scanned the horizon for Ajax. He should feel threatened but Cain just wanted a–an anything–to talk to, anyone he could that he could scream *WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED*. Manic laughter bubbled out of his throat, convulsing his chest. *Get a grip get a grip–*

He heard a garbled yell and looked toward the glowing dome to see the energy swarm descending on Ajax’s large frame. Like Cain, Ajax was frozen in place, absorbed by the ebbing static. Yellow and orange rose from his giant body like plumes of steam, pulsing in a sparkling cloud before dissolving into the faceless maw. Cain had a feeling that he would be able to rest now.

## Chapter 5

Ajax’s skin crawled with unspent energy; he flew toward the scampering Cain, pounding the wasted soil to dust clouds as he ran. Pings from the Network battered his head but he ignored them. He made a mental note to never take this orange shit again. Being connected was a pain in the ass. He would kill this Cain and then take a break in his outpost. Heal his wounds and dry out, like old times. Ajax rushed to the left of Cain, ushering him toward the glowing dome. But the little shit stopped running.

Ajax zoomed in on the slum rat. Bats flew in a frenzy overhead. Cain struggled to walk, agony twisting his features. The air around Cain moved like a dark fog, swallowing him from Ajax’s view. Some gossip overheard at Mary’s bar floated to the surface of Ajax’s memory. Something about the Council lying to them, that these “doom clouds from space” would destroy them all some day. Stupid shit. Suddenly he felt a second heartbeat in the back of his neck; the omnium vein warmed and prickled up his spine, as though activated by the proximity to this — thing. The cyst in his cheek pulsed and swelled against his throat, choking him. He fell to his knees, spewing bile. Cain’s manic laughter bubbled in the distance as a wave of vibration pummeled Ajax’s body. Looking down he saw his veins punch through his skin like black ribbons. The energy cloud was above him, holding him in an invisible vice.

*Ajax* watched with horror as the omnium bled out from his eyeballs and nostrils, evaporating into the staticky cloud that hovered overhead.

*Greg* cowered on the field, battered by the loud keening in his ears. He was coughing up dust in Iraq, holding the soldier with the blasted, boneless leg that haunted his sleep in the years that followed. Empty bottles, missed birthdays, panic attacks: the thread of memories that pulled Greg to filling out that Utopion application raked across his vision as he lay dying. His death would haunt no dreams. His body was a husk of a human, sixty year old flesh and dead hardware. He wished for water.

## Chapter 6

*“Ajax, away from your outpost again. Drink?”*

Mary intended to delay Ajax with the temptation of liquor, but he was already *on* something. She could tell by the faint orange glimmer in his eyes, the way his face deformity pulsed, the clammy sweat on his forehead. Bridged bodies didn’t typically sweat. Ajax stormed away as soon as he cleared the bar looking for Cain, and the minutes dragged on.

It was not love that Mary felt for Cain–when you bridged with Network access, you gave up love’s mysteries in exchange for omniscience. Mary was just a sucker for nostalgia. Cain was a rare breed of human in that he didn’t live in the slum as a way of staying close to Utopion; he was brought there, and he chose to stay because he cared for his people. In the disastrous aftermath of the gods’ attack, he became a pillar for his squalid community. Being with Cain transported her to summer picnics and snow days, to getting handsy with her first boyfriend under the blankets in her parents’ living room. Cain reminded her of what it meant to be human.

The hour passed slow and brutal, until finally a ping from the Network probed behind her eyes. Her stomach lurched at the sight of Cain’s face augmented in front of her, looking like triumph cut by fear. The flashing label [REBEL REBEL REBEL] screamed atop his head. A table of Bridged patrons were clearly looking at the same thing, and shot Mary an accusatory stare. “Alright, everyone out!” Mary shouted, “Finish your drinks and go.” The bar customers grumbled but obeyed. You didn’t cross Mary.

It was one thing to be a rat, forgotten and living off of Utopion’s scraps or starving in the wastelands–but if you were labeled as a rebel, that meant that the Council acknowledged you as an antagonist. Rats were left to die. Rebels were exterminated. Ajax had to have Network access if he was able to send Cain’s image across the web. That meant someone had given him the orange strain of omnium, so far only deemed fit to power buildings.

With the bar finally empty, Mary rolled her eyes back, swallowing the accompanying stab of pain as her mind slipped into a cascade of coded information. Jumping across various bridged viewpoints, she gleaned the following: Praxis Labs liquified a batch of orange omnium crystals to the correct viscosity for intravenous imbibement, so that the new strain could be compared to the stable omnium used in Bridging surgeries. The lesser bridged lackeys who discovered the crystals were tested first, and cited a powerful physical reaction and Network access. Pouches of the liquefied orange were manufactured for further testing, one of which went into the hands of Eve.

Mary shuddered, releasing her eyes from their uncomfortable position, letting them rest on the wooden bar top in front of her. So Ajax was Eve’s lab monkey, and he now had Network access. Which meant Mary could watch through him. She dialed back in and found Ajax’s viewpoint, but he was so manic and disjointed that it was impossible to make out what he was seeing. Eventually he started to beat a steady warpath outside of the city, across the plain, and in his focused run his viewpoint clarified. Through Ajax, Mary saw Cain studder to a halt, battered by some dark energy mass.

God power.

The static fog crept toward Ajax like an amoeba. Mary cut out of the Network, knowing what would happen to him next, and pressed her eyes to her cranium. A god encounter so close to Utopion–it was uncommon. Mary opened her eyes and startled. Eve sat across from her, perched on Cain’s usual stool. Meeting Mary’s surprised stare, Eve toggled a small controller and projection of Ajax’s outpost surveillance flashed in front of them. “Your lover survived.” “He’s not–” “I don’t care. Let’s watch. I am curious to see what he will do with that old hardware.” Cain crept inside the outpost, making a beeline for the food stores. He found a spare satchel and stuffed it with snacks, although there would be nothing of great nutritional value there. After bridging, food provided just ten percent of the body’s energy supply and could even be optional. Many bridged citizens indulged with chemically engineered snacks and alcohol, or sentimental foods for special Utopion events.

A smug smile crept up Eve’s mouth as they watched Cain appraise the weapon rack, running his fingers along the hardware. They were all powered by omnium, and would not respond to a human. Cain pulled a weapon out of his backpack and studied its size in comparison to the weapons on the wall. “I don’t like this,” Eve murmured, leaning closer to the projection. Cain selected two of the smaller guns from the wall and began to disassemble them, stuffing the pieces in his second satchel. Finally he knelt next to the charging conduit used by Ajax to recharge. His back blocked Mary and Eve’s view, but when he stood the connecting valve was gone. The figure of Cain did one final sweep around the outpost and hurried outside. Eve and Mary watched until he exited the camera frame. Mary poured herself two inches of hooch and knocked the whole glass back. She slammed the cup down and saw that Eve’s eyes were rolled back, her skin quivering as she likely calculated every possible outcome of Cain’s immediate future. Mary’s hunch was correct; Eve shuddered and came to, locking blazing eyes with Mary’s. “He’ll most likely die of dehydration. Sorry for your loss.”

“Can I pour you a drink, Eve?”

“Mary, there’s a logic thread I can’t quite access in you.” Mary swallowed. She could see the agitation hitching Eve’s breath. “You see Cain as an equal. But he’s human.” Eve ran a finger along Mary’s smooth cheek. “And while your preservation efforts are admirable, you’re three times his age.” “That hardly matters. He’s grown.” “It doesn’t do to reach the pinnacle of biological progression and live life tethered to the past.” “Cain was a pleasure point. Nothing more.” “Be that as it may,” Eve murmured, sliding off the stool, “I’m giving you a vacation from this…” she flicked her hands toward the bar top, “…*hobby*. Inez will be replacing you.” “But — “ Mary protested. “Don’t forget who made you, Mary. You’re to report to the Council at sunrise. It’s time to enjoy the fruits of Utopion!” Eve paused in the doorframe. She raked her eyes across Mary’s chest, a smirk kicking the corner of her lips. “Lucifer misses you.”

Eve let the door close behind her.

The Network pain was a relief when Mary dialed back in. She found the outpost surveillance and watched the figure of Cain enter and leave on a loop, until her omnium powered down to sleep mode, forcing stillness. She dreamt of static and red skin.

## ***Epilogue: Cain***

There was no water in the outpost. Cain’s stomach grumbled but he denied himself food; the salt in the rat jerky would only worsen his thirst and he had no fucking idea what kind of nutrition lay within the sleek pouches he pulled from Ajax’s stash. The panic that had been following him since he first ran from the slum bubbled up again. The engineer in him had pulled the correct items for supercharging his whipclaw with omnium, and–his stomach shook with silent, manic laughter–it would be of little use to him dead.

But did he really just survive whatever the *fuck* that was to die of dehydration?

The plastic pouches winked at him from his second satchel. He ripped into one that felt squishy. Inside was a handful of plushy pink droplets. He tried one and nearly keeled over; it burst with a splash of fruity tartness that was better than water. He emptied the entire pouch into his mouth. Momentarily satisfied, with the Utopion skyline behind him, Cain scanned the dark horizon. To his left, more suburban graveyards stretched to a lake’s edge. The rubble reminded him of The Hook’s early days. His mouth watered at the promise of lake water, but he was certain there would be stealth drones looking for him there.

To his right, the plain gave way to a forest of stripped, dead trees dotted with new saplings. Beyond them, a mountain’s ridge cut through the star studded sky. Cain had spent his entire life building a home from trash. He would sleep in the wasted forest, and pursue the unknown climb.