Neon Dust [Progression Cyberpunk] 16. Attention

16 – Attention

As the man’s words registered, Addie felt like she was drifting out of herself. “Normal folks can’t see Dust?” Was that right? Had she seen sothing other people hadn’t noticed when she’d watched those glittering motes of sparkling…stuff pour out of his fingers and gather around everyone’s feet? Had she ever seen that before?

“Are you ssing with ?” She cocked her head to the side, watching his handso face, wondering if this was part of his bit or, worse, an attempt to flirt.

“Nah, why would I ss around about that? I can see that Dust-tech there.” He nodded to her drone, hovering noiselessly behind her. “You’ve got so good control; even when I did the old gravity flip, that thing didn’t budge. Can you use all the features?”

Addie wasn’t sure what he ant. “I can use the cams and, you know, send it around to, uh, film stuff.”

“It’s got an AI, though, doesn’t it?” He—Zane, if his poster was telling the truth—stared at her drone, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah, I’m almost certain that’s one of the original Horizon surveyor drones. You know they were made for going through the rift, right?”

Addie most certainly did not know that, and she was too flabbergasted to cover her ignorance. “Um, my grandma was a journalist, and she used the drone to—”

“Right, right. I an, after the station ca down and the rift closed, all that Horizon tech was repurposed.”

“You an people, um, we saw the rift? I thought it was just assud that Persephone opened sothing like that. I thought it was just the only plausible explanation for Dust! I thought—”

“Woah! Easy! I got way ahead of myself, didn’t I?” He held out a hand. “I’m Zane.”

Addie was struggling to contain herself. She felt like she’d just stepped into an episode of her favorite net serial, only it was all about characters she’d never seen before. Still, she managed to clamp down her endless questions and grasp Zane’s hand. It was warm, and his fingers were firm but gentle when he wrapped them around her hand to give it a shake. For so reason, the touch made her heart quicken and her breathing grow shallow.

Suddenly, the questions racing through her mind faded to background noise, and she just wanted to stare into Zane’s bright eyes, counting the little flecks of green and yellow in the brown. He held her hand long enough for the touch to be just the far side of appropriate, but Addie wasn’t complaining. When he let go and pulled his hand back, she almost wanted to reach out and grasp it again.

“So, yeah, when the company took in, they sent to a school for folks like . Like us. That’s where I learned so of this stuff that they don’t really teach in the corpo schools.”

“Like us?”

“Yeah. I an, I’m assuming, but I don’t think you’re just a gleam. You’ve gotta be a spark to run this drone without even thinking about it, especially with the AI disabled.”

Addie frowned. Glints, gleams, and sparks—the terms were all relatively aningless to her. She knew a spark was “stronger” with their dust talents, but that was about it. Tony wasn’t the first person to ask if she was a gleam. She’d heard her father talking to people her whole life, explaining away her ability with the drone: “She’s been playing with it since she was barely taller than my knee! Must have a knack she inherited from her granny.”

Addie had seen people claiming to be gleams around the district over the years, folks with an uncanny ability to guess which cup hid a marble or who could make little illusions in the air, but she’d never seen anyone do what Zane had done.

“I say sothing wrong?”

“Um—” Addie licked her lips and smiled. “No, I just, well, I don’t think I’m anything like that.” When Zane cocked his head at her, skeptical and perhaps unsure how to keep the conversation going, she hurriedly added, “Wouldn’t I know by now?”

“I dunno. I did, but then my older brother was big into this stuff and encouraged . Started with my dreams getting into his head at night. Hah! Let tell you, that wasn’t exactly funny for a thirteen-year-old boy. Well, at least it wasn’t to ! Harris thought it was hilarious.” Addie’s eyes widened at the story, and he smiled, shaking his head. “I’m rambling. Pretty girls always make babble.”

Addie’s eyes really widened. “Pretty—”

“Zane, you ready for another show?” Madeline called out from behind her.

He smiled and then directed his gaze over Addie’s shoulder. “Can you give ten? I need a break.”

“Sure, hon! I’ll put the sign on the door.”

Zane tilted his head toward the comfy couch on the other side of the Reader’s Haven. “Sit with a few? I have a feeling you have more questions for , and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you a little.”

Addie nodded slowly and followed him over, nearly collapsing onto the couch. Her mind was everywhere other than her motor skills. “When you disappeared…” She paused, again licking her lips with a tongue that felt as dry as sandpaper. “During the show, I an, is that like what a fade does?”

Zane frowned and leaned into the corner of the couch so he could shift to look at her more directly. He idly fidgeted with his fancy jacket’s lapel and shrugged. “Maybe? I dunno. So people think fades, reavers, dredges, and the like are folks who might have been sparks…or sothing stronger, but sothing went wrong in ’em.”

“Sothing stronger?” Addie’s voice cracked, and she smiled with half her mouth, a nervous tick of hers, and looked down.

Zane leaned closer and whispered, “There’s a guy working for Oldfellow-Ryburn—you know, Boxer’s parent company?” Addie nodded, and he continued, “The instructors at the school where they sent —they call him a ‘flare,’ and, before you ask, no, they wouldn’t define it.” He leaned back again and locked his big, hazel eyes on Addie’s, slowly tilting his chin to the side. “You ever thought about applying?”

“To-to Boxer?” Addie was so surprised that she stuttered. The idea of working for Boxer was so distasteful that she was sure she made a face. When Zane’s eyebrow shot up, and he opened his mouth to respond, Addie stamred the first words she could think of to hide her response, “I, um, I work with my dad.”

“Oh yeah? I’m not from the Blast, but it doesn’t seem like a place with tons of opportunity.”

“You’re not?” Again, Addie found her limited knowledge of the world outside District 17 to be a source of confusion. “Boxer pretty much runs the district. I thought—”

“That they hired all their employees here?” Zane chuckled and shook his head. “They recruit from all over the city, and, well, when Oldfellow-Ryburn bought ’em, they sent all sorts of upper managent in. Those guys have feelers out there—” He waved a hand like he could point to the distant reaches of the corporation. “—in the sister corps, pulling talent from everywhere.”

Again, he shook his head and chuckled at himself. “You got babbling again. Listen, I can put a word in for you. I know so of the recruiters. Think about it! You’ve got so talent; if they think you’ve got what it takes, they’ll send you for training. I could hardly do anything before they sent off.”

Addie seized the opening to ask about what had started her mind racing during Zane’s show. “Were you always able to disappear?”

“Oh, heck no! That was the hardest one! I spent six months of hell training that up with two psychologists assigned to monitor twenty-four-seven—long story.”

“I ask ’cause when you did it, it reminded of a fade I knew.” Addie was only partly lying, and she was mostly doing it to protect her dad if soone found out what was happening to her, so she excused herself as she continued, “She started out with just her hand disappearing. It happened at night when she was trying to sleep, usually—”

This story originates from . Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Zane leaned forward, snapping his fingers. “Oh shit! Seriously? That’s how mine started, too! And she beca a fade?”

Addie’s mouth felt even dryer, and she swallowed, her eyes darting from Zane’s face toward the rope barrier at the entrance to the bookshop. “Um, I think so. She moved away, but that’s the rumor.” She was a terrible liar, and she felt her face growing hot as she shifted toward the edge of the couch. “I’m, uh, sorry, but I promised a friend I’d watch him fight.”

“Fight?”

“The gym nearby has a contest for Boxer Day.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’m flicking you my contact info. Get it?”

Addie looked to the corner of her AUI, where a “package received” icon hovered. “Got it. Thank you for talking to , um, Zane, right?”

He nodded. “Mm-hmm. You never told your na. I an, I didn’t want to be pushy, but when we shook hands, I was hoping—”

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t? I’m sorry, my mind’s been racing ever since you said I might be a, um…”

Zane leaned really close, so much so that Addie could sll his minty breath when he whispered, “Spark.” His grin was ridiculous—the way his upper lip curved like a bow. “So?”

Addie blinked. “So?”

He laughed and ran a hand through his feathery, sandy-blond hair. “Your na? I an, your PAI’s set to private, so—”

“Addie!” she blurted. “Sheesh! I’m a space case! My na’s Addie.”

“Cool.” He smiled warmly, and Addie found herself staring way too hard at those big hazel eyes. “Well, you’ve got my contact info. Let know if you want to set up an interview.”

“Um, right, thanks.” She stood up, made another futile effort to spread so moisture around in her dry mouth, and offered a smile that felt incredibly la. Heat spread from the back of her neck toward her face, and she retreated toward the door. “Thank you,” she offered again, this ti over her shoulder. “Sorry, I have to run.”

“Nice eting you, Addie,” he called after her.

“Well, hon? Quite a guy, isn’t he?” Madeline asked as she passed by her counter. Addie jerked her gaze at her just in ti to catch her wink. Was she being cute? Was that why she’d encouraged her to go in? Because she knew Zane, the “Conjurer,” was fine as hell?

Addie’s cheeks were already flushed, but she laughed nervously. “Yeah, sothing else. Talk to you later, Madeline.” Then she slipped out the door and basked in the chilly evening air. “Holy…” She let her exclamation trail away when she felt her drone’s presence above her head. She hadn’t even thought about guiding it through the door when she’d hurriedly slipped out, yet here it was. It had known to speed up and stay close. Zane was right; she didn’t have any business controlling a drone so perfectly without even thinking about it.

She glanced at her AUI, noting the ti: 6:23. She still had a few minutes before Tony’s first fight. “Only a few, though,” she muttered, moving to the right, brushing her shoulder against the building to avoid bumping into a group of Helldogs. They were drinking, their hands empty of weapons, and their faces plastered with smiles. It was strange to see them that way. Addie recognized two of them—two guys she’d grown up with, just like Beef and his boys—but they ignored her, even as she tried to make eye contact.

She rembered the one with the mohawk; he’d been a shy kid, talented with free-hand drawing. In fact, Addie rembered having sothing of a crush on him and sitting still, little thrills running up and down her spine as he’d drawn an ani character on the inside of her wrist for her. How old had she been? It seed like yesterday, but she couldn’t have been more than fifteen. As the mory flashed through her mind, the bangers andered past, laughing and joking about how soone nad “Teacup” had gotten beaten up by his wife earlier that day.

“Ah, JJ,” Addie snarked, “nothing like so casual dostic violence on Boxer Day.”

“Excuse , Addie?”

“Never mind. JJ, research ‘Horizon surveyor drones,’ and have a report for when we get ho.” Addie wanted to figure out if Zane knew what he was talking about. Was there more to her grandma’s cara drone than she thought?

Before JJ could respond, her text window flashed, and Addie focused on it until it opened, displaying a new ssage from Jamal Hoshock:

Jamal H: Yo! You here or what?

Addie thought a response:

Addie: I’m here, heading over to Golden’s. Shepherd is fighting.

The idea had co to her the night before; Jamal wanted to et, but he also wanted to see “Shepherd.” Wouldn’t he be willing to et at the gym if that’s where the fights were going down?

Jamal H: No shit? Let’s et there! I’ll send you a ping.

Addie: Sounds good!

She smiled. What an interesting night! She’d learned so much already, and now she might get a break in her story. “And see Tony fight,” she added, though she wasn’t really excited about that part. She just hoped Golden was keeping things clean.

***

Tony inched his head back, letting “Big J’s” gloved knuckles barely graze his cheek as the man threw another haymaker. As most of his mind concentrated on the fight—ducking, jabbing, feinting—another part thanked whatever talent allowed him to function so well with one eye. He’d made a few calculated dodges that had been off by an inch or two, costing him a bloody lip and a glove burn under his left cheekbone, but overall, he’d tid things just about perfectly so far.

Big J was a tough guy with a cybernetic left leg and arm; Maisie told Tony he’d been run over by a garbage truck. Every so often, the guy would stutter-step back and whip that big tal and plastic leg around in a roundhouse that would probably send Tony flying out of the ring if it connected. Luckily, he wasn’t all that talented and projected his moves from a mile away. Tony bided his ti, wearing him down, landing a jab here, an inside leg kick there. His repeated blows were taking the steam out of the big guy and really putting a strain on his human limbs.

Tony could see his right leg trembling with the effort as Big J tried another roundhouse with his chanical leg, aiming to punt Tony with the hard plasteel plate on his shin. Tony saw it coming, knew it was coming from the pattern of the guy’s combos, and stepped forward, deflecting the kick up with his right arm’s dense, polyr elbow. He ducked low and stepped in close, bumping Big J’s extended thigh with his shoulder, throwing him off balance.

While the big fighter teetered, Tony wrapped up his other leg and drove forward, taking him to the mat with a crash. As Big J fell with a heavy thud, Tony maintained his forward montum, imdiately transitioning to secure top control. Pressing his weight down on Big J’s chest, he trapped the larger man’s right arm, pinning it beneath his knee to immobilize him.

Big J tried to buck Tony off, but Tony anticipated it, shifting his weight slightly to keep his balance. Seizing the opportunity, he slid his arm under Big J’s left shoulder and snaked it around the back of his neck, locking his hands together in a head-and-arm choke. With his forearm pressed firmly into Big J’s neck, Tony squeezed, leveraging his body weight to increase the pressure.

Big J’s struggles grew frantic as he felt the choke tighten, his hands clawing at Tony’s arms in a last attempt to pry him off. But Tony held steady, bearing down, centering his gravity directly over Big J’s neck and chest, his legs splayed out behind him like a tripod. Big J’s cybernetic arm was no joke, and he began to hamr on Tony’s shoulder, trying to get a blow in against his skull, but Tony tucked his chin, keeping his skull clear of the punishing blows.

Within seconds, Big J’s resistance faded, and his hand slapped the mat in a desperate tap. Tony released the hold imdiately, rolling back to his feet, leaving the other fighter gasping on the floor. The crowd was noisy, cheering and yelling all the ti, but it seed like they made a little more noise for his victory. Tony grinned, blood dripping down his chin as the ref lifted his arm and Golden announced his second win.

He slipped through the ropes to the ground and collected his jacket from the stool by the corner. Slinging it over his shoulder, Tony ducked his head as he tried to push his way through the crowd so he could get to the first-aid table; he wanted so ice for his head and face. He bit the cling-tight tab on his right glove, loosening it, and then pulled it off with his teeth. That was when Maisie pushed through the crowd to shove his shoulder, her eyes bright, her grin huge. “You won!”

Tony tried to smile with his glove still in his teeth, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “Hey,” he grunted, taking his glove in his cybernetic fingers.

“That was a smooth-ass takedown, brother!” She punched his shoulder again, her smile infectious. “Big J’s no joke; I’ve seen him take out so of the aner bangers!”

Tony nodded toward the first-aid table. “I wanna get an ice pack.”

“You need so blood-stop, too. That lip’s oozing.”

“Yeah, good call. How’d your fight go?”

“I’m out!” She made a pouty face, but it only lasted a second before she was grinning again. “No big deal; I didn’t expect to win the tournant.” She glanced at the big projection on the far wall showing the brackets. “Hey! You get a bye next round!”

“Shit, really?” Tony blinked the sweat out of his eye and peered over. Sure enough, he was getting through the third round without a fight. “Lucky .”

“That ans you’ve got so ti. Wanna get sothing cold to drink?” Before he could answer, she said, “Wait here,” then she turned and bolted toward the first-aid table. Tony watched her go, nimble and quick, slipping between the clusters of onlookers and fighters. She was fit, that was for sure. A few seconds later, she was running his way with an ice pack. When she got close, she held up an index finger, and he saw the opaque sar of gel on the tip. “Blood-stop.”

“Ah.” Tony smiled crookedly, trying not to stretch his cut lip.

“Lean down!”

“Right.” He leaned toward her, and she gently patted the gel into his cut. It stung at first, but then it went numb, and he smiled more naturally. “Thanks.” He took the ice pack and pressed it to the base of his skull behind his right ear, sighing in relief; Big J had gotten a pretty solid hit in there.

“So? How about sothing sweet and cold to drink? Mama Lo’s got bubble tea for sale across the street. You can still hear Golden on the speaker from there.” She frowned slightly and looked around. “You got soone else you need to check in with?”

Tony scanned the crowd and then looked up, his eye flicking from one drone to another. He didn’t see any sign of Addie. “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Maisie grabbed his wrist and tugged. “C’mon, then. You need to hydrate.”

Tony shrugged. If he were being honest, he’d admit he was enjoying the attention of a pretty girl. He wasn’t, though, so he rationalized that she was right—he needed to hydrate.