Fuzzy, Sasha, Beef and Duncan - Saturday, August 11th, 2074 - Early Morning - Seattle Metroplex

Fuzzy didn't expect to be asked so many questions. Whenever she and Sasha and whomever else was with them at the time would talk about a topic, it was almost always surface level. There was always something else happening: Class to complain about, someone on the shame pole, school events and pop culture stuff that Fuzzy had no idea about or opinion on. But certain questions about people were generally filled in by going through someone's social media, not by actually asking them.

Social media was everywhere and instantly accessible save for in places with little to no matrix access like Blake Island by design or the Puyallup barrens by lack of coverage. For most people, that meant that one's own matrix personality tended to be carefully pruned and crafted, like someone who tended a garden. Sasha normally wouldn't need to ask about whom Fuzzy's parents were. She could slip briefly out of the conversation, check her social media and know who those people were. Everything that was publicly visible allowed someone to already know a person's likes and dislikes, political affiliations, favorite bands, favorite foods, favorite hangout spots, everything.

Fuzzy had absolutely no idea that she was socially invisible and that most people didn't know how to deal with that. That information, pruned as it was, was almost always instantly handy except in Fuzzy's case where it wasn't.

The two girls were truly alone on the Puget Sound. There wasn't even a pilot for the boat as it moved on autopilot alone. They merely moved through the water in the near dark lit dimly only by the running lights of the boat, the moon and the Metroplex miles and miles away. The boat did not roar like the older boat that ferried the students from place to place. Instead it gently hummed as it cut through the water. The waves would slap, slap, slap against the hull to the boat, but all was quiet besides save for Sasha's gentle and awkward probing and Fuzzy's racing mind.

"I um...Am I asking too much too quickly?" asked Sasha, delicately, "I can see that you're...Well..."

"Are you assensing me?" asked Fuzzy, "Mother Bear taught us that doing that without permission was..."

Her tone wasn't accusatory. It was just as awkward as Sasha's. It was like the two girls were dancing and either staying too far away to be close or stepping on each others toes. Fuzzy couldn't see Sasha that well, but if she could see her she would've seen Sasha blush, or more accurately, blush harder. Sasha looked away and stayed quiet for a few seconds before looking back.

"Can you keep a secret?" she said hesitantly.

"Yes," said Fuzzy, immediately.

Sasha smiled, but that smile turned immediately anxious.

“Promise me you won’t tell?” she asked, quietly.

Fuzzy wasn’t one who made promises often, but when she did, she tended to take them seriously. She nodded once and in the dim light and this seemed to make Sasha even more anxious. There were many false starts and Sasha repeatedly opened her mouth only to close it again. She would nervously shift in her seat across from Fuzzy and try to look anywhere but at Fuzzy. She wrung her hands. Fuzzy didn’t look away, but realized that everything about Sasha’s body language was filled with anxiety. Finally, she got it out.

"I'm good at assensing because it's always on,” she said, slowly, “I can't exactly...Turn it off. Everyone else can, but I can't. Can you do it? See the astral? It's hard to explain.”

"No, I can't do it. Maybe with some practice I could, but it doesn't come naturally to me," said Fuzzy.

"Right, okay. Um...The astral is always there. We just don't see it. It's a world that's just out of sight for most people, parellel to ours and sometimes touching. It's all of the emotions, spirits, life, that sort of thing. There are bad spots and good, bright spots and stains. I look out at the ACHE for instance, you know, that huge ghetto that used to be the Renraku arcology a million years ago?"

She lifted her hand and waved it at the largest structure in the metroplex like it was something disgusting or dirty, without looking at it at all. It wasn't lit and instead, one saw it by the way it blocked out the light around by its sheer mass.

"It makes me nauseous to even look at it," continued Sasha, "There’s all that pain and death. It's a huge, evil spot in the astral, like a greasy stain. It hurts to look at. It hurts to even be close. My driver has to take the long way around any time I get close which is often since it’s near the docks and the highway because I can even feel it if I get too close. Unless I’m in a car I can’t be within a quarter mile of it or I’ll want to throw up. Even behind a barrier of some sort, like glass or steel, which isn’t perfect, but..."

Sasha trailed off and looked away. Now that her eyes had began to adjust, even in the dim light Fuzzy could notice the blush that went from the tips of her ears to just below her neck.

"When I first got to know you, well, you were different," said Sasha, "Normally I can pick apart someone's emotions within a few seconds and understand them. I can't not. It's like noticing the color of someone's hair. You're different though. You don’t say much, but your aura isn't like everyone else's. You say what you mean and I can see that you mean it. That's so incredibly refreshing, you know?"

Fuzzy squirmed a little in her seat. Having her emotions read did feel a little uncomfortable, though Sasha was looking away from her.

"We...you know, live in a world where people aren't genuine. And I like that you're not...Fake, guess," she continued, "I always know so much about people and I'm not used to not knowing. It's more curse than anything. I almost always know if someone is thinking bad thoughts. I don't know what they are, but I can guess, especially when it's about me. I'm always intruding. I see scary things in the astral all the time. Beautiful things too and sometimes they’re beautiful and scary both at the same time. You wouldn't believe just how security spirits are on the island and they're beautiful and scary too. Anyway, yeah, it's rude. I can't not be rude. I’m sorry. Sometimes it feels like I'm always silently farting and no one has noticed yet."

Despite the heavy nature of the topic, Fuzzy couldn't help it. What started as a small snort turned into a giggle.

"Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that..." groaned Sasha, “I am such a nerd…”

Sasha buried her head in her hands. Fuzzy's giggles doubled and then redoubled. She laughed so hard she began to snort. All of that tension in her dispelled. It felt so good. It was cathartic. For a moment she felt only joy and laughter.

"Always farting," repeated Fuzzy, giggling uncontrollably.

Sasha was offended at first, but began to laugh as well from between her fingers. After all she could see that her friend's laughter wasn't at her, it was with her. There was no mockery or meanness in Fuzzy. She truly knew her friend's heart in that instant. Fuzzy's joy was simple, pure and uncomplicated, and so Sasha's and Fuzzy's laughter filled the otherwise silent Sound for a time. After a few false starts on the conversation where laughter elbowed its way back into the mix the girls sighed happily as they caught their mutual breaths. Though Sasha was still anxious, she wasn’t even half as anxious as she’d been before.

"So you're not mad?" asked Sasha.

"You don't already know?" asked Fuzzy.

Sasha paused and cleared her throat meaningfully.

"It seems polite to ask..." hedged Sasha, "And occasionally I'm wrong. Reading auras isn't a lie detector or anything. I can't actually read minds. I just sort of...Figure it out between what people say, do and the feelings I get from them. And...I'm also not great at reading you yet."

Fuzzy smirked at Sasha.

"No, I'm not mad that you're constantly farting," teased Fuzzy.

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" sighed Sasha.

"Hmm...I won't tease you about it then,” promised Fuzzy.

"Thank you,” said Sasha, relieved.

"Much..." teased Fuzzy, wickedly.

Sasha groaned, but in exasperation, not anger.

"So you won't tell anyone?" asked Sasha, "You promised, you know?"

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

Fuzzy noticed Sasha look at her. What Sasha saw in her seemed to give her a lot of relief.

"So...No social media at all?" asked Sasha.

"I...No,” said Fuzzy, awkwardly.

Fuzzy drew back into herself defensively again. Then with sudden realization she knew that Sasha knew how she felt second by second even if imperfectly. She hadn't fully understood, but she suddenly felt naked before her friend. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Sasha sighed miserably in response.

"Yeah. That's almost always the reaction someone has whenever I tell someone about this," she said, and sighed in resignation, "We can still go back if you want. I’ wouldn’t hold it against you."

The girls were apart from one another. They sat on one of many seats on the boat facing one another. On a whim she decided to stand up to sit next to her friend. Then she debated with herself.

“Friend?” Fuzzy silently asked herself.

“Friend,” she silently affirmed.

The young women's sides touched and while Sasha momentarily stiffened, she eventually relaxed. They kept a companionable silence for the rest of the boat ride. Sasha didn't look at Fuzzy. She didn't have to.

A sedan pulled up to meet them at the docks as soon as they arrived, as if on cue. Two men exited. They moved oddly, as if they were too fast, their movements were quick and graceful. They wore strange looking black suits and just above their hearts the emblem of a man’s head with a helmet and there was some sort of red fringe on top. Fuzzy wondered if these men were in a gang. She was reminded of the way a bird moves when she looked at the men, graceful and predatory. That movement and their lack of color drew attention away from them in such a way that Fuzzy really only identified them as a tall ork and an elf. Nothing more for now.

"Good morning Miss Oliver," said the man, politely.

"Hi Beef, hi Duncan," she responded, "Thanks for picking us up so early."

"My pleasure," he said, deferentially, "We'll be in the front if you need us."

The two girls piled into the car and sat as the doors closed on their own. Everything was so soft and sleek. Everything smelled new. There were drinks behind a pane of glass that opened up. Fuzzy was thirsty. She'd been walking, talking and laughing for almost an hour. That felt wonderful, but it was thirsty work. The two men moved into the front of the sedan and a window, previously down, went up to seal the men away from Fuzzy and Sasha.

"That's Duncan and Beef. They work for my dad," she said.

"What does he do?" asked Fuzzy.

"Duncan or Beef?" replied Sasha.

"Your dad,” explained Fuzzy.

"Oh!. Him, right. He's the chief of police for Renton. Well, one of the bigger precincts anyway. He got a promotion when I awakened. We had a huge party," she said, and smiled wistfully. Then she sighed. "I see him a lot less now though. Lone Star is really bucking hard to win back the Seattle police contract from Knight-Errant so he works really long hours. I really only see him at dinner these days...Sometimes."

Fuzzy nodded slowly. She didn’t understand any of that. Her dad sounded important though. In fact, she realized he must be very important if he had his own car and men to pick them up.

Are you thirsty?" asked Sasha.

Eager to change the subject and eager for a drink. Fuzzy nodded. Sasha popped the top off some sort of fizzy fruit drink and handed it to Fuzzy before having something for herself from a compartment that not only contained drinks, but a wet bar. The wet bar was sealed off by glass though. Fuzzy didn't know what that was and was instead distracted by just how tasty the drink was. She didn't know the taste. Not apple, but fruity. There were words on the side, but of course she didn't understand them and so couldn't ask what it was.

"Can I ask you a question, Fuzzy?" she asked.

Fuzzy nodded and sipped her drink again, delighted by its taste. That was when the car began to move. If the engine had been on or off, Fuzzy didn’t know. It didn’t rumble to life. It simply moved. It was so different than the bus and how loudly it rumbled. She felt like she was gliding across the surface of the earth rather than rolling on wheels.

"When I ask you about yourself I can tell you don't want to talk," she said, anxiously.

Fuzzy fidgeted nervously in response.

"I want you to know that's okay, but if you want to share, that's okay too,” said Sasha, gently, "I just think you're cool is all and I...Sort of want to get to know you."

Fuzzy nursed her drink to collect her thoughts. With a grin and sudden realization she took a picture of the letters on the drink, fed it to her commlink and her commlink's text to speech read her what the fizzy drink was.

"Dale's Own Best Pomegranate Juice,” chirped her commlink, quietly.

Fuzzy was proud of just how clever she was. She did feel a little bad that she was drinking Dale's drink though, whoever Dale was. She hoped he wouldn't mind. The tasty drink put her in a mood to share because she was being shared with after all. So she decided to share a little about herself. Sasha confided in her and Fuzzy regarded her as a friend. In fact she was Fuzzy’s only friend outside of Puyallup.

"Life for me is...Complicated," started Fuzzy, at first distracted, "Painful. It's hard to share with you. Not because it’s you, but because I'm not used to sharing."

Fuzzy bit her lip and looked down.

"I think you'd like me way less if you knew that side of me," she said, sadly.

Sasha looked at her for a time and frowned.

"You really believe that, don't you?" asked Sasha.

Fuzzy nodded slightly and felt miserable.

"Well...Maybe I can convince you that I'll like you no matter what,” said Sasha, happily, “We have all weekend, right?"

Fuzzy could tell that Sasha was trying to cheer her up and she appreciated that. She nodded again, but that was all Fuzzy had in her to share and Sasha didn't press her further.

The car stopped a few times, which Sasha explained was completely normal as they were going through security checkpoints. It started again a minute later and then stopped for a final time. The doors of the sedan opened and she and Sasha stepped outside. Fuzzy didn't know where she was; only that she was somewhere. It'd been dark after all. She stood before big doors, clear and wide. The logo then men wore was on the building, big and bold. Words were on it and she once again checked her commlink.

"Ares Macrotechnology,” chirped the commlink in her ear.

That meant nothing to her though. However, the building stretched high into the sky. As she followed Sasha inside, she saw men and women sat behind desks and looked attentive. Fuzzy followed Sasha through a sort of square door flanked by rails, though the door was just a frame. Sasha put her pack on some sort of moving floor at waist level and it went through a machine. Then she emptied her pockets into a plastic container at the man's ordering.

"Ugh," she complained, "No one else in upper management to do this. But no, rules are rules, dad says..."

She went through the door and it beeped and turned red.

"Check for any more metal please," said a man in a uniform.

She checked her pockets once more.

"Oh, sorry, missed a bottlecap. Can I just throw this away?" she asked.

The man nodded and she threw it away. Then man continued.

"Let's see...Sasha Oliver," he said, "You're scheduled for hunting time today. Is this your plus one?"

"Yeah,” said Sasha.

The man nodded and she stepped through. There was no sound this time. Fuzzy followed suit with her own pack. The guard eyed her suspiciously but there was no red light.

"Let's see...Your bow, arrows and spear were sent ahead by Miss Oliver's security team, but I see that you have...Two knives in your pack. Miss...Fuzzy?" he asked, dubiously, and then collected himself, "Miss Smith. Did you forget to give Miss Oliver's security team?"

Fuzzy had no idea who Miss Smith was, but she did have knives on her and he was talking to her. And it was so odd. All of these "security" people were dressed almost identically and many of them had cybernetics, especially in the eyes. She could even see herself in this man's eyes. And between the outfit and the cybernetics, it was really easy for her attention to skip across them like a stone. She really had to concentrate to see him as a person. Human, male, light skin, dark brown hair in a crew cut, chrome eyes, square jaw, thin lips, athletic build.

"I usually keep a knife or two on me," said Fuzzy, "I mean, not since I started going to school, but before."

There was an awkward pause before the security guard spoke again.

"The Ares Machrotenology Arcology does not allow weapons to be carried on the persons of unauthorized individuals," said the guard.

"But I'm going hunting today," said Fuzzy, confused, "You need a knife to hunt."

The guard's frown intensified as her backpack was taken by yet another guard. Fuzzy felt nervous. She looked to Sasha who looked confused.

"You go to the Blake Island School of Magic, correct?" he asked.

"Yes," said Fuzzy.

"Thank you. Miss Smith," said the man, "I'm going to need to ask you a few questions. Please step to the side."

Fuzzy looked to Sasha again, who looked alarmed and was guided by the man to another man took her just a few feet away. She was still within earshot of Sasha, which made her extremely uncomfortable for some reason.

"Hello miss...Fuzzy...Smith" said a guard, dubiously, "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience. I will need to temporarily confiscate your weapons."

The hairs on Fuzzy's neck stood up. Being disarmed at school was one thing. She was just getting used to that. But here? Among even more strangers? Some of them armed? She looked at the gun on the guard's hip and frowned.

"I'd like to leave," said Fuzzy, flatly.

"I'm sorry Miss Smith," said the guard, without a hint of apology in his voice, "Until this issue is resolved we cannot allow you to leave. Please slowly remove your blades and any other weapons you have and place them in the receptacle. As you are a guest of Miss Oliver, we will not touch you, but it is required that you temporarily give us your weapons."

Three more security guards approached her. Their weapons weren't out but their hands lingered near their pistols. She weighed her odds. She'd escaped from devil rats and ghouls, but people with their guns were different. It was hard to outrun someone intent on shooting you and with multiple people with guns, she didn't think her chances were good as far as escape. Fighting them was completely out of the question as well as they were armed, armored and ready for her. Plus she didn't weigh much and hadn't even learned a single spell yet.

So she did the only thing she could. She slowly removed her knives, still in their sheaths and placed them in the plastic container. Another security guard next to the one with the tub unsheathed her blade, which made her anxious. A naked blade was a definite threat, but he sheathed it after inspecting it for just a moment.

"Standard survival knife," said the inspecting guard, "Well used. Missing the chem light."

And then he inspected the next one.

"Skinning knife," said the guard, in the exact same tone, "Six inch wooden handle. Steel blade with a gut hook."

The interviewing guard spoke next.

"Do you have any other weapons on your person?" he asked.

"No," said Fuzzy, nervous and annoyed.

"Do you have any adept magic that is not on the list tied to your SIN?" asked the guard.

"My what?"

"Your social identification number."

Fuzzy still didn't know what that meant, but she decided to blunder through anyway.

"What's on it?" asked Fuzzy.

The guard's gaze didn't waver, but he seemed to "stare" through her despite the fact that his chrome eyes had no pupils. It was just a gut feeling.

"A class D talent affinity with animals," said the guard.

"I don't know what that means."

"A minor talent."

Fuzzy shook her head.

"Very well," said the guard, "Do you know any restricted spells from the combat or manipulation schools of magic?

"I don't know any spells," said Fuzzy, "It's why I'm going to school. To learn spells."

"I understand and apologize for any confusion," he said, unapologetically, "I'm just going to need to ask you a few questions to authenticate your system identification number. Full name please?"

Fuzzy noticed just how big he was as he loomed over her, but didn’t shy away.

"My name is Fuzzy…Uh…Smith…I guess,” she answered.

She’d never had a last name. Someone must have picked it for her. The man quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I see. And your date of birth?" he asked, slowly.

She looked back to Sasha only long enough to register more fear and confusion.

"I...Don't know,” answered Fuzzy, truthfully.

The guard raised both eyebrows.

"You don't know your date of birth?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"No,” she said, quietly.

A lot of people in the barrens didn't know when they were born. Some did, but many didn't.

"Current residence?" he asked.

“What?” asked Fuzzy.

“Where do you live,” said the man, without missing a beat.

"Blake Island,” said Fuzzy.

The man grunted and nodded.

"Well that checks out...However, miss, I'm not seeing you as registered to a previous home before that,” said the man, “Perhaps you could provide me with your last address so we can perform a standard search to alleviate any confusion."

"What?" asked Fuzzy, still confused.

The man didn't sigh. He was too well trained.

"Where did you live last?" he asked.

"I...Um..." she began.

The man said nothing. He merely waited.

"Puyallup barrens," she said, quietly, "In the ash wastes."

Without a single pause, the man put a finger up to his throat and spoke silently into his subvocal microphone. The guard with the container with her blades moved away and one of the two guards put a heavy hand on her shoulder from behind. It took all of her willpower to fight the urge to attack for long enough to create some confusion and flee. They'd made sure that if she fought, she'd lose, she knew that.

Fuzzy was led away into a side room and as she cast a last look at Sasha, who'd been furiously arguing with another guard, looked to Fuzzy and mouthed four words in shock.

"Puyallup Barrens?" asked Sasha, "Ash wastes?"

Her friend's mouth was agape as the security forces of Ares Macrotechnology lead her away. She'd only had a SIN for two weeks after all. They couldn't be too careful. Corporate saboteurs, spies and shadowrunners were everywhere.

There was yet another security guard in a room with a table and two chairs. He sat in one and when the door closed behind her, he pointed to the other.

"Please have a seat Miss Smith," said the security guard.

"I want to leave," said Fuzzy, with a confidence she didn't feel.

"You will be allowed to leave when we have ascertained exactly who you are," said the guard, "Please sit."

Fuzzy found it deeply strange how similar everyone looked. Same clothing, chrome eyes, crew cuts, everything. There were a few differences, but she figured that only the gangs looked this similar, but even the gangers had some sense of individuality about them. The only thing that really differentiated this security guard from the first one in her opinion is that his hair was dark, he was slightly shorter, slightly older and he had extra chrome at the temple. That was it.

For the next two hours, he asked her questions and he didn't stop asking the same ones until she finally answered. And she did because she could feel this calm, menacing presence radiating off him. Meanwhile, she sat in her chair and constantly fidgeted with her hands. She had a sense that answering these questions wrongly or lying would land her in even more trouble. So she told the truth as she understood it.

If she didn't know her date of birth, how old was she?

Fuzzy thought she was fifteen. Maybe fourteen. Maybe sixteen.

Where was she from?

The southeastern part of the Puyallup Barrens, west of Carbonado.

Does she indeed go to school at Blake Island School of Magic?

Yes, she took classes from Mother Bear in magical safety.

Was she a registered awakened?

She wasn't sure what that meant.

Was there anyone that could verify what she told them?

Yes, Julian, Mother Bear and Rat Man.

Who is Rat Man?

He's just Rat Man. She sold him pelts and she used to live with him.

This process repeated over and over, and to her credit she stuck to her story

"Well, it seems like you check out," said the security guard, "Apparently you were headhunted for your gifts. Lucky duck. Your teachers vouched for you. Apparently you're part of some new pilot program."

"Wait, headhunted?" asked Fuzzy, and fear spiked inside of her.

She wanted to keep her head on her shoulder, but the guard, understanding now that she knew very little after grilling her for two hours, did his best to soothe her. However, his presence wasn't very soothing at all.

"It means you were recruited for your talents," said the guard, "Anyway, you're free to go. You have my sincerest apologies for keeping you. However, this is for the safety of everyone. Please keep that in mind, Miss Fuzzy Smith."

"Thank you...So I can go?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, you can go," he said, "Remember that I'll be keeping my eye on you, Miss Fuzzy Smith."

He looked at her with his unreadable, shiny metal eyes that she’d been staring into for some time. She was escorted out. She heard a small click and turned her head as she was being moved. She saw the man had taken some sort of device and plugged it straight into that chromed area of his temple. She shuddered.

Fuzzy didn't see Sasha immediately, but a few seconds later she was let out of a room adjacent to hers. Sasha looked worse for wear. At first Fuzzy didn't look as if she was going to speak, but then she opened her mouth, closed it, frowned and then finally, she spoke.

"They asked me a lot of questions about you," she said, quietly.

"They asked me a lot of questions too," said Fuzzy, just as quietly.

A few heartbeats passed before Sasha spoke again.

"You're not corporate?" asked Sasha, slowly, "And you're from the Puyallup Barrens?"

Unable to deny it any longer, Fuzzy reluctantly nodded.

"Yeah," said Fuzzy, "I am."