Fuzzy, Kenji and Puppy - Saturday, July 28th, 2074 - Morning - The ACHE

The ACHE was a maze of corridors, garbage and graffiti. In fact it was such a maze that Fuzzy knew, deep in her bones, that if she got lost the odds were good she might not find her way out again. There were a few identifying markers that weren't tagged over or obscured by enormous piles of garbage, some so high and wide that they even blocked paths forward and so Kenji had to reroute a few times.

And so Fuzzy kept track of all of the twists and turns in her head so she wouldn't get lost. As deep in the barrens as she used to live, this wasn't exceptional. The ash drifts would cover some landmarks that would lead her back home and on the bad days, she'd had nothing at all to navigate home by. So she counted her steps in her head, noted where she turned and tried to memorize graffiti that stood out just in case.

What surprised her most was the lack of people out in the hallways. For a place with so many people, she'd expected to see more. There were a few people, sure. A few stood, mostly against the wall, but most sat or laid down on trash like scrap cardboard to keep the floor from sucking the body heat from them.

"I thought there would be more people," said Fuzzy.

Kenji didn't turn to look at her as they walked, but he spoke all the same.

"Most people are behind doors by now," said Kenji, "And I'm going around the worst areas. This is the uh...I guess it's the place where the chill addicts hang out you could say."

Fuzzy stepped around a pile of garbage and did her best not to wake a sleeping person. At least she hoped they were sleeping. Kenji continued.

"Garbage day starts in two days but sometimes it kicks off early. There are some scavenger gangs that pick through the trash that will beat out the fires in the atrium but sometimes the pyros get impatient. We get a lot of pyros in the ACHE but most know not to burn any big shit outside of garbage day unless they want to deal with pissed off scav gangers."

"What if the fire started early?" asked Fuzzy.

"We'd leave," said Kenji, "It takes a few hours to really get going and I'd be able to smell it before it does."

Fuzzy looked at the assembled people as they passed. A few had their hands out but not with much hope in it. Most didn't bother and either stared listlessly forward or were too high to care. No one blocked their path though. Apparently the route that Kenji picked had no gangs.

"What happens to them?" asked Fuzzy.

Kenji only shook his head.

"They get choices," said Kenji, "All of them bad. These ones are mostly addicts. They're checking out...You know, mentally. You got chipheads running beetles...Uh, BTL's. Those are the better than life sims that make them think...I dunno, that they're living some better life somewhere or doing something better. But usually those don't last more than an hour or so. You can always tell a chiphead den because the spent chips crunch under your feet. Also the smell. Chips are cheaper than food at this time of the month so people will spend on chips of them eating some fancy meal rather than actual food."

Fuzzy looked at a Chiphead with his eyes open and drool running down both corners of his mouth.

"So they're just...Living a life in their commlink or something?" she asked.

Kenji, who'd slowed, pointed past stringy hair to their temple.

"Nah, it's all internal," said Kenji, "A commlink can't do hot sim. Those are hot simulations. They redline your brain. The sims feel more real than anything you do in real life and it's addictive as shit. So these people are fully checked out. If it weren't for the smoke, most would stroke out and die. You know, brain bleeds. Can't handle hot sim."

Fuzzy had wandered into old buildings with burnt microchips all over the floor while hunting or holing up for a night on longer hunts. Puyallup hadn't always been the barrens after all so she wondered if she might've stumbled into a few by accident.

"Didn't know that," she said.

They continued to walk again.

"Yeah, that's the one half of the checkouts," said Kenji, "The other half are bliss addicts. Super heroin. Makes them think everything is all right. Usually people get addicted because they want to sleep. Hard to catch a good sleep when you're sleeping on uncomfortable bullshit, flat blankets, you know, like the clothes, and have a tight crew to watch your back and your shit. Some people get so stressed by all of this shit that they can't sleep without bliss. You can't tell an addict either by the fact that they think everything is alright when it's obviously not or that they're constantly nodding."

"Nodding?"

"Nodding off," said Kenji, "You know, sleep, wake up, sleep, wake up. Constantly nodding off. If they're high they're harmless. If they're fiending though, watch out, but this corridor is as safe as it gets. Anyway, The Red is up ahead."

The Red Market, or The Red as it was called was demarcated not just by an end to the piles of trash, but also the graffiti had been painted over with red paint. A few guards stood by, faces covered, armored head to toe in scrap steel body armor and armed with the best homemade fully automatic weapons that money could buy. There was a large sign on the side of the corridor that Fuzzy couldn't read, but she was familiar enough with a few words from the swap meet that she knew a few by sight.

"No stealing," she read.

"Yeah," said Kenji, "They'll take a hand if you're caught. So uh...Don't do that. Taking a hand is where it starts too, so don't fuck around. Just keep cool and you'll have a good time. You can get almost anything here so I'll float you some creds if you see something you want to buy. We're heading up to the third floor in a few minutes. My cousin is getting some work on his hands done at one of the cyberware clinics but he's not done yet. After that we go up to my place, grab your knife and get on with our day."

Unlike the corridors, The Red was full of people. People buying, selling and trading seeming anything and everything. It actually put Fuzzy at ease because she understood what this place was due to her trading at the Puyallup barrens swap meet, though she'd never seen a market so big before. Just the first level of the floor was bigger than the swap and this place had four more levels.

"I've never seen a market so big before," said Fuzzy, in awe.

Her gaze was fixed upwards. There were lights and signs splashed haphazardly across storefronts and open air shops that seemed to reach into the sky. There was no sky though, just a crumbling roof with tiles that stuck to the ceiling in some places and hung off in others like dead skin, exposing beams and pipes underneath.

"Yeah, it's an old mall," said Kenji.

"What's that?"

Kenji brought her to the side as they had stopped and foot traffic was flowing between cramped stalls. One selling ramen noodles at a bar with standing room only and another that sold what looked like clothing. Both were packed, but Kenji brought Fuzzy closer to tables heavily laden with all kinds of clothing in all shapes, sizes, colors and materials.

"Mostly a dead idea that the corps brought back," said Kenji, "Used to be that there were these huge buildings where people would sell all kinds of different shit all in one place and people would actually come to them to buy things. The matrix all but killed most of them because why do you need a mall when you can just order something and get it in your hands fifteen minutes later?"

"You can buy things on the matrix?" asked Fuzzy.

Kenji smirked.

"Parting you from your money is probably the number one reason why it exists," said Kenji, "Anyway, matrix kills the malls, but the corps bring them back when they start building arcologies. You know, really big corporate buildings. The kind that have everything, so you never feel like you have to leave. The bosses like their wage slaves spending money in house. In fact, they like it so much that the money they give them isn't worth anything outside the mall. An arcology is a company town. An arcology mall is the company store."

"Why don't they leave?" asked Fuzzy.

"Good question," said Kenji, "There are other ways out other than drugs. We'll go up to level five for a bit. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead up there but it's better to show than tell."

Fuzzy nodded and turned her attention to the clothing stall. Not that she wanted any exactly, but she'd grown up around leather and other fabrics when she was a kid. She and a few other hunters brought home kills and Rat Man and the other kids turned them into clothing. So she inspected the clothing. Few were grey in color, so she decided that they weren't selling flats here, but she inspected the quality of the clothing. In this case, a pair of blue and white shorts about her size. Specifically the quality of the fabric, which she did by touch and sight and by checking the quality of the stitching.

"Twenty creds!" exclaimed a voice over the din of the crowd.

That voice belonged to man, a dark skinned old ork who wore a mishmash of bright looking clothing and black AR goggles like hers over his own eyes. He also had an ancient, primitive looking artificial leg. The kind that wasn't cyberware, but just an old, fitted prosthetic. He'd given her a few seconds of attention.

"Good quality!" he exclaimed, "Light on your skin, smooth, biometrics in the fabric work with shirts at the same table! Checks your calorie levels and body temp, lets you know if..."

"How much is it actually worth if I'm not a tourist?" asked Fuzzy.

She pointed to her mask as that identified her as a tourist.

"Maybe twelve if you don't bargain," said Kenji, "I wouldn't pay more than eight."

"Isn't five as much as a flat?" she asked, "Couldn't you just buy clothes?"

"Flats get you everything," said Kenji, "Shirt, pants, shoes, underwear and socks. And they suck so no one will rob you for them. But if you get your hands on real creds and you decide to spend it on a nice outfit, you're going to have to defend yourself unless you're in a gang. Even then, you're defending yourself from other gangers. So if you see someone in a nice outfit, odds are they're dangerous. Obvious wealth is a big, red "do not fuck with me" flag."

"Because they can defend it," added Fuzzy.

"Because they can defend it," he agreed.

As they spoke, she inspected the clothing. Apparently it had been made here because the stitching was crooked and they'd used heavy stitches instead of fine ones. Rat Man had never made shorts because they wouldn't protect from the ash. She checked two more pairs of shorts before finding the same sloppy stitching as well as a tiny rip in the fabric on the last that was guaranteed to open up without repair after wearing it a few times. So if she was going to buy clothes, it wouldn't be here.

"Seventeen nuyen!" exclaimed the old man, "Sixteen!"

There was something to the man's voice that she heard elsewhere both from those selling and those buying. A kind of frenetic edge that she'd only heard from the most desperate at the swap meet. Normally people in Puyallup got like that right before it got cold as winters in Puyallup were harsh.

"Bad quality," said Fuzzy.

Kenji nodded.

"Yeah, this place sucks," said Kenji, "They used to be okay but they got one of the best spots so they've been letting shit slip. The ramen across the way is still good as fuck though if you don't care too much about what's in the broth."

Fuzzy put down the clothing and gave Kenji a level look.

"I hunted and killed wild game in Puyallup for years," said Fuzzy, "And I know that a lot of the meat I put on the table isn't on Blake Island's menu."

Kenji pursed his lips in thought.

"You know what an entomotarian is?" asked Kenji.

"Is that a kind of fish or something?"

Kenji shook his head.

"It's the kind of food that people eat, like being a vegetarian," said Kenji, "A person who only eats vegetables. An entomotarian is a person who eats vegetables and bugs."

Fuzzy stared over at the crowded bar while people ate the steaming broth and made a face.

"They're eating bugs?" asked Fuzzy.

"Bug broth," said Kenji, "Getting actual bugs is extra."

"Protein is that scarce?"

"Government and the corps give us a lot of empty calories in our food," said Kenji, "They skimp on shit like vitamins, minerals, fat and especially protein. But you can turn a lot of what people don't eat into bugs so you can get those essentials. Besides, it's not that much different than what most people eat in Seattle. Most of the meat they eat is krill and soy and mushrooms, though we don't rate krill. You're actually kind of lucky that you can get your hands on any kind of real meat at all."

They reentered the crowd and Kenji pointed towards an escalator that had long ago stopped working and so it had just become stairs. They ascended quickly and Fuzzy switched backed to something she noticed earlier.

"They sound desperate," said Fuzzy, "Is it because they're close to garbage day?"

"Caught that, huh?"

Fuzzy nodded as she continued to ascend the escalator with Kenji.

"Feels like just before winter."

"Good way of describing it," said Kenji, "Except our uh...Seasons I guess you might call them are just rolled into a single month. Some people give up before the winter ends, which I guess you could call garbage day. Too hot and smoky to be outside in the uh...Elements, you know?"

"And your fiery, smoky winter lasts less than a week."

"Three to five days, yeah," said Kenji, "The ACHE has seasons. Hadn't thought about it like that. Most people think of it more like cycles."

The second level had a number of scantily clad or even nude people dancing, calling out to customers in provocative ways and it seemed that a number of tourists by the way that they were dressed streamed towards it. Most of them were men, though not universally.

"This is The Red's red light district," said Kenji, "I don't spend much time here. I mostly just pass by when I'm here."

A number of women and a few men waved and called down from the edge of the second floor at the people below. Fuzzy blushed behind her mask and decided to leave for the third floor as she continued to climb the busted escalator with Kenji. Though there were fewer people who accompanied them up the stairs as many of the tourists seemed to have found what they were looking for. Fuzzy noted that the sex workers by and large looked better fed than anyone else she'd seen so far, though there were a couple skeletal looking exceptions.

"Not my thing," said Fuzzy, a little quickly.

"They're just making their way like anyone else," said Kenji, neutrally, "Bills to pay, mouths to feed."

"They shouldn't have to."

Kenji only shrugged.

"It is what it is."

The third floor looked like it was dedicated to electronics and medicine. Fuzzy saw an open air bazaar of not only medical supplies, but what looked like body parts hung up in shops as well. She stopped and stared at a number of hanging arms. A few of them with what looked like skin, but without blood and next to them, metallic arms of varying levels of shininess, from chrome to rusty.

"I don't got enough for any 'ware if that's what you're interested in," said Kenji.

Fuzzy found herself close to the window and realized now that she was closer that the arms she'd previously identified from people were actually fake. She'd knew about cyberware. Some of the Petrowskis had gotten into accidents with farming equipment or lost limbs to gangs on raids. If they could afford to, they replaced the limb with cybernetics.

"Just looking," said Fuzzy.

"Yeah, you don't look like you need it," said Kenji, "Plus getting any cyberware or bioware fucks up your magic."

Fuzzy looked away from the hanging arms in the window and looked up at Kenji.

"Really?" she asked.

Kenji nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "Some awakened get a little anyway. Mix and match with magic and tech. I've been thinking about it even though my magic is why I got in in the first place. A few quality of life upgrades, you know?"

"I really don't," said Fuzzy.

"Well, besides making yourself better, stronger, faster, smarter, about half of the corp kids have designer clean metabolism and dietware mods."

"Which means..."

"Which means their shit literally doesn't stink and they can eat as much as they want and never gain weight."

Fuzzy felt confused at first. Putting on weight was what one did to prepare for winter when times were lean. But she figured that maybe food wouldn't be scarce at school in the winter. She hadn't asked, but it made sense. So...

"They...Eat food," she said, struggling a little, "Because they like to?"

"Their body just shits out these not at all smelly nuggets full of unprocessed nutrients," said Kenji, "They can eat as much as they want and look slim or muscular or starved or however they want to look. Plus they throw a lot of food away."

Fuzzy had noticed that on the first day and it had disturbed her, but she hadn't said anything. But the very thought of eating piles and piles of food that they barely needed made her feel suddenly ill and angry.

"That's fucked up," said Fuzzy, in disbelief.

"Yeah," agreed Kenji, "It's really fucked up."

Fuzzy gritted her teeth and her hands balled up into fists. Kenji seemed to notice this and spoke.

"There's a ring if you want to burn off some steam," he said, "I could get you a few rounds."

He guided her, albeit reluctantly to the edge of this floor and they both looked over the rails. Down on the first floor in the middle of the old mall was a fighting ring, its floor made of concrete and it was surrounded by wire on all sides. And as scary as it looked, Fuzzy was so angry that she actually considered it. Instead, with an effort of will, she relaxed her hands and put them on the old, rusty rail that topped the waist high safety wall.

"No thanks," she said.

Instead she put her hand in her pocket and pet Puppy, who squirmed against her hand and licked her skin. For the moment at least he seemed to be doing fine.

"Didn't figure," said Kenji, "Offer just the same though."

Fuzzy looked up at him and looked for some sort of trick. She found none though and finally just nodded.

"Thanks," she said, a little tersely.

"I've played tour guide a few times before," said Kenji, "Though to a uh...Different kind of clientele. Dangerous people, but cool. Get them the right gear for the right price. We wouldn't spend much time on the first floor. Most of it is essentials: Food, clean water, clothes, that sort of shit. Drugs too. But the ring..."

Kenji pointed and Fuzzy took a second look, but she didn't see anything special about it.

"People fought and anyone could show up," said Kenji, "If you're a good enough fighter you can win your way out of the ACHE. Boxing, MMA, Muay Thai, wrestling, cybered up or not. ACHE fighters are some of the best in the world."

"Because it's a way out," she said.

"No hope, no fear," agreed Kenji, "A lot of people don't make it in the ring. Or make it out I guess on a bad day. But it's one of the few actual ways out of the ACHE. Current MMA cruiserweight champion came out of the ACHE. Heavyweight in Muay Thai. I've seen their fights here."

There was something about the ring. How central it was to this place, this mall that was The Red. She looked around from her vantage point. Not just down, as most people would, but up, as an experienced huntress did. After all, looking up had saved her life a few times on hunts. What she saw was that every ledge both above and below had at least some sort of view of the ring. So she made an educated guess.

"The market sprung up around the fights," she guessed.

Kenji nodded in approval.

"Standing room only," she said, "But everyone watches."

She pointed at the ledges, including the one they were at now.

"Where do you stand?" she asked.

Kenji pointed towards a sweet looking ledge near on the second floor. It wasn't closest to the ring, but it was still very close. Fuzzy's estimation of Kenji went up considerably.

"That's my cousin's spot," said Kenji, "I get to go with sometimes. Big Muay Thai fan, my cousin. He doesn't get to come down here a lot but no one takes that spot unless they know what's good for them."

Kenji put his back up against the guard rail and talked with his hands. He stared at Fuzzy for a little while before he seemed to come to a decision.

"People got a lot of ideas about the ACHE," said Kenji, "Most of it's wrong. And if they get something right, they usually come to the wrong conclusions. They don't know what it is. They aren't inside. Shit was fucking wild the first few years. Gang violence through the roof, people throwing themselves off the top, constant burning so bad you could barely breathe, no shit cannibal cults, just the most insane shit."

Kenji tilted back his head, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He inhaled the ACHE.

"But things calmed down a lot," said Kenji, "The gangs don't just shoot to shoot most days. The burning is confined to the end of the month. The cannibal cults were wiped out. And the suicides...Well...That shit actually hasn't changed a lot, actually. Less dramatic at least. A lot of people have...Ideas about the ACHE. Odds are they weren't inside. A lot of people got a lot of shit to talk about my hood, you know?"

"But it's your home," said Fuzzy.

Kenji nodded seriously and turned around to look out at this little corner of the ACHE once more.

"Even as fucked up as this place is," he said quietly, "And it is fucked up, without a doubt. If you don't know it like I do, it's a nightmare. But if you understand it and accept it, if you love this place right, it'll love you back. Not how you want it to. Definitely not. But it can love you in its way."

Fuzzy thought about that and her own home. The desolate wastes of her little patch of Puyallup. The ash drifts and skeletal remains of buildings where people used to live. The broken concrete with its flora and fauna, barely clinging to the land. And of course, the very few people that lived there, the good and the bad. Most people couldn't live in the ash just like it seemed that most people couldn't live here, at least long term. But she and Kenji had both adapted to these places.

"Puyallup is like that," she said.

"And most people don't understand," he added, "They'll look at you weird. Ask how the hell you live there."

"You just do," she said.

"You just do," he agreed.

They stayed there for a little longer and they watched. And though Fuzzy couldn't articulate it, she felt like she understood Kenji just a little better. She still didn't trust him, but maybe she didn't trust him a little less than before.

Eventually they pulled away from the edge and perused the third floor for a while longer. Not only was there cyberware and bioware on display in shops, but there were also commlinks, computer parts and bigger devices in stores. Most of them were flat, tablet looking devices, though thicker than an average tablet. And exactly none of them were out in the open. They were all in the windows of stores.

"Cyberdecks are way out of my league for price," said Kenji, "Even the shitty ones."

"Are they computers?" she asked.

"Supercomputers," said Kenji, "They're mostly for hacking. You know, doing shit you're not supposed to on the matrix. It's strictly low end shit out here though."

Fuzzy found an AR price tag and her eyes bulged.

"Fifteen-thousand?" she nearly squeaked, "For that?"

She pointed to the tablet.

"For the lowliest of the low, piece of shit model," said Kenji, and read aloud, "MCT Trainee. Huh. Anyway, mid-end decks get into the hundreds of thousands. You might be able to find a used one here if you know who to talk to. Helped someone make a big purchase here before a run once. Got them a shiny, new Novatech Navigator. Probably the best deck in the entire ACHE. Got a pretty big tip too."

Fuzzy furrowed her brow in confusion.

"What's a run?" she asked.

Kenji's reminiscent smile slipped for just a moment.

"It's a certain kind of job," he said, smoothly.

"What kind of job?" she asked.

"The kind that people don't believe exists," said Kenji, enigmatically.

They walked on. Kenji pointed out where they could buy commlinks and Fuzzy declined a loan for a better one. They passed where they could buy fake SINs. They passed boxes and boxes of computer parts and a few more shops with old cyberdecks on display, but Kenji stopped before a certain shop. His AR contacts lit up and he pursed his lips.

"Cousin still isn't ready yet," said Kenji, "And he wants a pickup. Lazy ass."

Kenji tapped his foot impatiently.

"What does he want?" asked Fuzzy.

Kenji tilted his head back and sighed, obviously annoyed.

"Bullets for his hands," he said.

"Why would his hands need bullets?" she asked.

"You'll see. He loves showing that shit off. Quick stop off then on the fourth floor."

He smiled wryly at Fuzzy and asked a question.

"Ever been to a gun show?"

---

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