“This is…Kings, Walker. I can’t believe it. This is more than I needed.”

“It’s what we had, so quit your bellyachin’.” He grinned up at me, hands on his hips, but I hardly noticed. I was too busy staring at my new place.

It was up on the fifth floor of a huge old brick complex down the street from Walker’s brownstone. The front door opened onto a living room several times bigger than my old crate, with a kitchen area off in one corner. The floor was dark and ancient wood, the walls rough plaster or bare brick. A pair of windows broke up the back wall, affording a view of Boulevard of the Hyades and the Cage through their wrought-metal bars. I’d been left a rickety table and a few chairs, but no other furniture. The whole place was spotless, too- Walker said Irgen and his boys had cleaned it for me. I hoped that didn’t mean there’d been bodies.

I scratched nervously at the edge of the eyepatch Doc Laggard had given me, still hesitant. “I don’t even know what I’ll do with all this space, man…”

Walker shrugged. “Whatever you want, little miss. Getch’yer holo over against that wall, a couch in the middle there, and you got room for one hell of a wet bar by the kitchen. Or, shit, leave it empty. S’your place, right?”

“Could probably fit a power cage in the corner, too…” I walked further in. A hallway led off from one side of the room, with a bathroom and bedroom off to one side and what was obviously the master bedroom at the end. The whole place might have been bigger than my old stack of shipping containers put together.

I headed back into the main room to find Walker messing around in the kitchen. “Looks like you got a stove but nothin’ else. Y’know, if you’re lookin’ for a fridge, a rad-cooker, appliances and shit, I know this guy Crazy Lou-“

“Crazy Lou’s a scammer and a hack!” The shout was out of my mouth before I knew it. Crazy Lou was one of Sawada’s competitors. My dad hated the guy and I’d kind of picked it up by osmosis. ‘Scammer’ hardly covered it, if half the stories I’d heard about him over the years were true.

“Well, of course he is,” said Walker, confused. “But since I know him, he’ll give you a hookup.”

“Thanks, but I’ll get them somewhere else.” Of course, if I went to my dad and asked him for a bunch of home furnishing crap, he’d want to know why. When I told him, he’d want to know how I’d afforded such a big place- and then I’d have to finally come clean on what my new job really was. I’d already decided I was going to, but I sure wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Suit yourself, then.” Walker jolted me out of that train of thought. “For now, though-“ A knock on the door interrupted him. “Shit! There he is!”

“There who is, Walker?”

“Roddy! Roddy the erilaz, Sharkie. He’s gonna get you inked!”

I took a nervous step back. “W-we’re doing that now?”

“If it’s all good with you.” He watched me, one eyebrow almost comically high on his craggy face.

Well, I said I’d do it. May as well get it over with. “Sure, sure. We can do it now.”

“Damn straight.” He went to the door, checked the peephole, and pulled it open. Standing there was a short, wiry man with a large pack on his back. His long left arm and white beard made me think of the albino monkeys that plagued neighborhoods all over D-block. The other arm was a primitive-looking prosthetic from the shoulder down, its exposed motivators worn to a satiny shine. He wore torn jeans, a vest made from the hide of some Glasslands creature, and sandals that revealed calloused feet. His tanned skin was completely covered in tattoos, runes and sigils and the outlines of bones inking him head to toe. His right eye was prosthetic, too, an ancient, grid-faced metal armature that covered the whole socket.

Walker eagerly shook his hand and they greeted each other in rapid-fire Quarryap. Then Walker turned to me. “Sharkie, this here’s Roddy. An erilaz. That’s a sort of wise man, I guess. A rune reader, a shaman- if you believe in that kinda thing. But he’s also damn good with a needle.”

The man himself stepped up to me and stuck out his metal hand, displaying none of the hesitation I was used to. I gave it a shake and found the smooth power of its movement belied its looks. “Sharkie,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ah’d be Roderick Mackailey, though’n Roddy’ll serve damfine,” he rattled off in a fast, almost imcomprehensible quarry accent. “Some’d call me wise man. Ah’d call m’self jus’ wise ‘nough t’shirk th’real work!” He let go of my hand, his gnarled face cracking into a steel-filled grin. “Young Clydey sure can pick’em, Ah been know’d t’say! Ye’ve done plenty damfine work anymore, or s’Ah heard.”

“Uh…yeah.” I’d barely understood half of that.

Roddy laughed, the tattooed skull on his face opening its jaw to match his. “Jabber’n toodam zippy, am Ah? N’matter, n’matter. Ain’ here t’talk. Siddahn, siddahn. Getchy’self sitch’yated.” He waved at the table and went over himself with a sprightly, bowlegged walk. I glanced at Walker to make sure I’d gotten all that. Barely suppressing a laugh, he nodded.

I took a seat across the table from Roddy and watched as he got things out of his backpack. First came a small mortar and pestle of glazed blue porcelain, then a few glass vials of ingredients. Their pebbly finish told me they were probably handmade. With occasional glances at me, he began tipping powders into the bowl. First a very fine, very black one, then smaller pinches of white and ochre. I kept thinking he’d ask me a question, the way he was looking at me, but he seemed to get whatever he needed just from my face. I watched with trepidation, not saying a word. Finally he pulled a pair of battered steel flasks from his pack.

“Pures’ agua manantial from th’deeps o’ Lugal Bore, an’ th’oldest Fehu likker Ah got. Hunnit’r more years gone since it went in th’tun.” He poured in some of each and mixed it up thoroughly, producing a deep black ink. He inspected it closely with his bionic eye, then the natural one, nodding to himself. He set it down and got out a small wooden case, from which he retrieved a fine brush.

“Might Ah ‘spect yer hand, young Miz Sharkie? Th’left.” To my surprise, it sounded like he was actually asking. That made me a little less nervous.

“Sure.” I extended it to him and he looked it over just as carefully as he had the ink. He traced the lines on my palm, inspected my scarred knuckles, moved my fingers back and forth. It was kind of weird, but the scrutiny he gave it was so powerful it somehow became less awkward.

After a minute or so he let go and had me put my hand palm down on the table. “Hol’ real still, now.” He took up the brush, dipped it in the ink, and began to trace lines on my hand with astonishing precision. He outlined the bones from the wrist down with all the fidelity of an anatomical holo. When that was done, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression on his face. I was too immersed in the process to say anything. After another minute or so he picked up the brush again. On the first joint of each finger he traced a rune, naming them as he went. His speech slowed down, making sure I understood.

“Ansuz first, fer tenacity.” He put a ᚨ on my pointer finger. “Then Thurisaz. Great strength.” A ᚦ, on my middle finger. “Now Dagaz, fer endurance n’ determination.” A ᛞ, on my ring finger. “Jeran. To speed thought, quicken yer mind.” On my little finger he traced a ᛃ. “An’ fin’lly, Eiwhaz reversed.” He grinned. “Defense through offense.” A ᛇ went on my thumb.

“Now that thar’s a damfine set. Surpassin’ odd, but fine indeed.” Roddy gave his work a nod of approval while Walker watched fascinated from the sidelines.

“If they’re so strange, why’d you pick them?” I asked.

“Ah ain’t picked nothin’.” He kept on smiling, eyes sparkling. “Them’s jus’ the runes as wanted t’be writ.”

I smiled weakly back. This shamanistic stuff was out of my wheelhouse. After all that the actual tattooing was pretty boring. Roddy pulled an old tattoo gun from his pack, sanitized it in strong alcohol, and snapped it onto his cybernetic hand. After filling it with ink he took my hand and got to work, following the lines he’d painted. It hurt a little more than I’d thought, what with the skin on your fingers being so close to the bone. Roddy joked around and told half-comprehensible stories to distract me.

“Y’know, young Clydey here warn’t always so scary,” he said. “N’fact, used t’be we called ‘im ‘Kitty-boy.’” I snorted and Walker put a hand to his face. “Y’remember that, Clydey?”

“Why the hell did they call you that, Walker?”

“Get your big head out of the gutter, Sawyer,” he protested. “It ain’t what you’re thinking. See, I used to-“

“Ol’ Kitty-boy used t’feed all’n the stray kitties around the pit,” Roddy interrupted. “Gett’n ‘em food an’ water, takin’ care of ‘em, giv’n ‘em names. Killer, Shadow, Toro, Ragear, Nina…”

“Mina,” muttered Walker.

“What’s that, Clydey? M’old ears ain’t quite catch that’n.”

“Her name was Mina. She was a big ol’ tabby longhair.”

I had to suppress a laugh. What a thing for gruff old Walker to have done.

“Hol’ still there, Miz Sharkie! But see? Still remembers’em, he does. Couldn’t hardly get ‘im to focus on nothin’ else. So we put ‘im in charge o’ making sure them kitties caught rats ’n glassworms ’n all th’other nasties. Did that ’til ‘e was big ‘nough to see over th’ wheel of a truck.”

Walker was still shaking his head. “Damn it, Roddy…”

“Don’t be ashamed, Walker. I like cats too.” I gave him a bit of a smug smile. “It’s pretty cute, in fact.”

“Oh, shut up, Sharkie. And don’t think about playin’ no jokes on me and tellin’ Marie. She knows already.”

“How’d you know I was gonna-“

“It was all over your face, little miss.”

“An’ that’ll be that!” Roddy slathered the tattoo with an herbal-smelling salve from a jar, then bent upright with a grin. “Might do a li’l bleedin’ but it’s nothin’ t’worry ‘bout.” He put away the tattoo gun and looked me up and down. “Gonna go far with them runes, Miz Sharkie. You be careful fer me.”

I nodded slowly. “As careful as I can.”

He was taken aback for a moment, then laughed. “As y’say, as y’say. Ain’t that all anyone can do?” He shook his head, still chuckling, and put his supplies away.

“Thanks for that, Roddy,” said Walker when he was done.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No need. That there’s close as Ah get t’real work, ain’t it? Be seein’ y’all both agin, Ah wager.” He doffed an imaginary cap and left quick as he’d shown up.

“Bit of a character, isn’t he?” I said to Walker when Roddy was gone.

“That he is, even by our standards. Bangs out a helluva scratch, though, don’t he?”

“I’d say so.” I looked down at my new ink, turning my hand back and forth. The bones of my hand were outlined in stark black, their shapes drawn X-ray perfect. The runes on each finger were bold and precise. Nice as they looked, I had to suppress a nervous sigh. Now I’d have to tell Dad what I’d been doing. “What’s the deal with the runes, anyway?”

“Like ol’ Roddy said, they all symbolize somethin’. He just picked the ones he thought suited you. Stick around long enough and you’ll get more.” He showed me his own left hand, which was marked with several extra runes and funny symbols.

“Okay, but he just met me.”

“It’s mystical shit, hon.” He waved his hands around in the air. “Above my head. S’mostly tradition at this point.”

Good enough, I guess. I shrugged. “Well, Walker, like I said: I can’t believe what you’ve done for me. But now I wanna go see Vandermaas about my eye.”

“I ain’t even paid you yet, little miss. Want a ride?”

—

“I’m honestly impressed. It’s an SKH-Thayer Executive Operator. High-end even by uptown standards.” Tanje placed the tray on the white counter between us then clasped his milk-pale hands behind his back. Sitting on the tray was Lyu’s bionic eye. He’d taken the delivery of the head with considerable aplomb, and spared me the task of actually removing the implant. “I’ve sterilized it and fixed up the botch-job that had been done to crack the DRM, of course.”

“Huh. So Doc was right. What’s so great about it, though?” I peered curiously down at the tray. The eye was made of a glassy white composite that had a wet, slick look. A few gold circuit traces crisscrossing its white made it obvious it wasn’t organic, as well as the tiny SiKaHae logo etched around the iris. Connectors of treated titanium around the back showed where the muscles and optic nerve would connect.

Tanje smiled. Prim as the expression was, I could tell he liked being able to rattle off the specs. “It’s a top-of-the-line combat optic, the target market being bodyguards and corporate paramilitary operators. It has a reinforced ballistic composite housing, and the ocular itself is faced with geodesic diamond. Its best feaure is probably SKH’s proprietary continuous-field image sensor. That means no rasterization artifacts- no seeing the world as pixels, I mean. By all accounts it’s far superior to the human retina. The lens is a ninety-ninth percentile-transmissive magnetorheological fluid-type with three-axis stabilization- and Class IV electromagnetic shielding, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” I cracked a grin, and by the way the corner of his mouth twitched I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“Unfortunately, this is the civilian-market model- though were it the full-package Admin spec I’d probably advise you to destroy it. That means no light-amplification or infrared suite, but you’ve still got 36x magnification, image capture and video recording, automatic polarization for dealing with flashbangs and the like, shot-counting HUD, automatic threat tagging and tracking, and finally amblyopic functionality. I’m told the latter takes a bit of practice to get used to.” He suddenly crossed his eyes, making me giggle.

“Damn. You sure you didn’t forget anything?” I was impressed. Even without the night-vicion, Lyu’d been rocking some top-shelf chrome.

Tanje touched his chin. “Mmm…Ah! The iris color can be customized on the fly, to enhance the user’s covert-operations capability.”

“Or just because they’d like a different color.”

“Or that.” He nodded, then gave me a sly look. “I daresay a vivid green would suit you, if you’ll forgive the imposition.”

I snorted, almost cracking up. “You daresay? Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say that outside of a book! You’ve been reading too much Princess Deya, man.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “How I wish that were true! The damned author’s gone on hiatus again.”

“Man, seriously? I swear I’d like them a lot more if they didn’t disappear for months at a time with absolutely no warning.”

“Don’t I know it. And with the way the last book ended?” He slapped both hands onto the counter and leaned forward. “It’s blatant audience manipulation. Making us wait to find out if the Comtesse du Alanguerre beats that snake Odegaard? Ridiculous. I’ve half a mind not to bother with the next book.”

“Are you still gonna feel that way when it does come out?”

“Oh, I’ll probably buy it the moment it releases- but until then I’ll stay angry.”

“That’s about where I’m at,” I chuckled. “And while I appreciate the green suggestion, I think it’s gonna stay purple.”

“Why is that?”

“I want to make sure people remember where I got it.”

I thought he might hesitate at that, but Tanje took it in stride. “I see. A bit uncouth, but doubtless effective. Just like your new tattoo.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I protested, holding up my hand. “And who made you the arbiter of couth anyway?”

“Sharkie, it’s a skeleton hand. Not exactly classy. But on you…I’ll just say you wear it well.”

I squinted at him. “I’ll do my best to take that as a compliment.”

“That is how I meant it. Now, shall we?” He waved at the eye on the counter.

I stared at it for a few seconds. I’d never thought I’d get any bionics. The whole thing still kind of weirded me out. But even a fake eye beat no eye. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Wonderful! Follow me.”

—

I came to with a sore, itchy feeling in my right eye. Wait- I could feel my eye! The lid stayed closed, though. It felt like something was holding it shut.

“It worked, Tanje?” He stood smiling down at me, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder to keep me from rising out of the medical chair in his small surgery room.

“I encountered no complications, if that’s what you’re asking. These high-end prosthetics almost install themselves. As for whether it worked, well, you tell me. How does it feel?”

“A little sore, but nothing insane.”

“Good, good. Are you ready?”

I nodded, and he pulled a thin bandage away from my eyelid. I slowly opened it and gasped. It was like watching a hi-fi holo for the first time after being stuck with salvaged LCDs your whole life. Colors were incredibly vivid: the white walls searing, the red biohazard bin like a fine-cut ruby, Tanje’s hair dark as the Pall. Outlines and edges were so crisp it was preternatural, and I could make things out in incredible detail. I could see the citrus-peel texture of the painted cabinets even across the room. Just as I thought that, my vision zoomed in until it seemed my face was shoved up against the paint- at least on the right. I had to shut my meat eye before the effect made me sick.

“How the fuck do I zoom this thing out, Tanje?” There was a desperate edge to my voice as the cabinets filled my vision. This was exactly what I’d wanted to avoid.

“Think about moving back, pulling away. The heuristic phenomenocognitive control-“

“In Standard, please!” This fucking sucked. The feeling of being unable to control my own body…Kings, it was hellish.

“You control it by thinking.” He kept his voice calm, soothing. “Try it once for me.”

I took a deep breath and did as he asked, and my vision zoomed back to normal almost instantly. “Whew. Thanks. Sorry for snapping at you, Tanje.”

“Please don’t worry about it. There is always an adjustment period to a new prosthetic, and such things are of course very personal. Now, to keep that from happening again…”

He showed me how to get into the eye’s settings, which showed up on the heads-up display like something out of a video game. I messed around with them until I wasn’t hitting 36x zoom on everything I gave more than a glance, and tweaked some of the color and contrast balances too. It really was like setting up a new holo.

When I was satisfied Tanje finally let me up out of the chair and handed me a mirror. One eye was the same dark gray as usual. The other, crossed by a scar that was already fading to white, had a sclera etched with fine circuit traces and an iris so purple it almost glowed.

“Kings,” I muttered. “I look like the main character of an edgy holotoon.” Despite my words, I kind of liked it. “What do you think?”

Tanje put a hand on his chin. “It suits you well, I think. Intimidating, but with a bit of mystique.”

I smiled at the compliment, though he’d probably have said the same thing if it looked like shit. “Thanks. And thanks for setting me up too, man. You know I’d be lost without you.”

He waved a nonchalant hand at that, though I could tell he was proud. “Of course, of course. Anything for a loyal customer.”

“Speaking of, will this cover the…installation, I guess you’d call it?” I reached into my pocket and pulled a few full chitcards off the monster stack Walker had handed me on the way over.

He made them disappear. “Yes, that should certainly be enough. Oh! One more thing, Sharkie. Stay there.” I watched, bemused, as he backed as far away from me as the room allowed. Then he suddenly flicked his hand and something flew at my face.

It was only a something for an instant, though. My new eye outlined it in red, placed a pip over it, plotted its trajectory in a dotted line and picked it out in exquisite detail. It was a pill bottle. It even read the label on the side: Loidellan, an immunoregulator. After all that it was easy to catch it in one hand.

“Holy shit. I know you said threat tracking, but…holy shit, man.”

Tanje gave me a rare grin. “Impressive, isn’t it? Take one of those in the morning and one at night with a glass of water. It’s just to keep irritation down while the body adapts to the implant, so when that bottle’s gone you oughtn’t need more.”

“Will do, Tanje. And thanks again.” I stuck a hand out, and when I took it I pulled him into a brief hug. “I appreciate it.”

“O-of course. Yes.” He was a little flustered, but smiling. “Anything for a loyal customer, as I said. Anything for a friend.”

“We gotta get together again, man. Sometime when you’re not shoving things into my skull.”

“I’ll pick out some movies, then.”

“Sick! I gotta get going, Tanje. But I’m really glad for the help.”

He walked me back out to his building’s entrance. “Have a good evening, Sharkie. And enjoy that eye in good health.”

“Will do, man. You have a good one too.” He went inside and I began walking. The Pall was pitch-black today. It was one of those times when the sky seemed half the height it should be. It wasn’t long, though, before I stopped at a buzz from my slab.

It was a message from Pengyi. They’d sent a picture showing them posed next to the carcass of something that looked like a cross between a flowering plant and a giant silverfish, accompanied by a typical Pengyi caption: i dont even know this thing what it is!!!! but is dead now!!! will make shell into chair, i am thinking. Huh. As bad as my last few days had been, at least they weren’t spent in the park.

I messaged back telling them that I, too, had no fucking idea what that abomination was. Then, to my surprise, they called me.

“Um, hi, Sharkie,” they said in their breathy whisper.

“How is-I mean, how are you?” I managed in my shaky ofen’dha.

“I am being good. I haryusha-practice, I meaning-my Standard.”

“I can tell. You sound a lot better with it already.”

“Thankiu! Ah, so, why I call…” There was an awkward pause and I waited patiently. “I decide I am wanting to ulas’ta- ah, visit. In light.”

I grinned even though they couldn’t see it. “Fuck yeah, Pengyi, of course! How’s the day after tomorrow?”

“So…two days? This is good.”

“Yeah, two days. I’ll figure out a place and message you, right?”

“Right! Magne shan, Sharkie! I so excite already!”

“Same, Pengyi. And watch out for if that big bug had friends.”

“Oh, I take care of them already. Must be trading for more ammo soon. B-bye, Sharkie!”

“Uh, see you soon!” They hung up. Bit of an odd conversation, but I was still excited. Pengyi visiting D-block proper? That ought to be fun. I walked back to my new home smiling.