Jalcin cursed under her breath as her foot narrowly avoided one of the alley’s oil-slick puddles. She had gone through the trouble of dolling herself up for a long night cycle out, so the last thing she wanted was to clean up a mess. The distorted reflection of a neuroinhibitor ad from the billboard above danced on the puddle’s surface; she hated coming all the way out to Zone 4, but either Enforcement or the snobby Zone 1 elites had ruined most of her favorite spots.
She grimaced as she put her full weight into the rusted bar of an unmarked door. They had refused to fix the damn thing since way before she started coming here. Part of the industrial charm they said, but she knew it was bullshit. Even with the recent squeeze, the ridiculous cover charge could easily get them a new door.
It finally yielded to her persistence, budging open just enough for her to squeeze through before slamming shut behind her. The hum of machinery inside was an instant relief from the constant buzzing in her brain. Only a single lighting strip overhead pierced through the heavy air down to the factory floor. Orderly lines of manufacturing stations pumped away, churning out whatever consumer garbage this place spat out. The night cycle shift attendant sat at his station in the middle, hunched over his terminal without a sign of life besides his heavy breathing. Of course he had been paid off to ignore the streams of people cutting through, but just a little head turn would have been nice.
On the other end of the floor and next to a particularly vocal machine were rickety metallic stairs leading into the depths of the factory. It creaked and groaned with each step as Jalcin descended, threatening to collapse and send her plummeting down. “Industrial charm,” she muttered to herself as she gripped the sticky handrail. Five flights down and through an inconspicuous door was a cramped storage room. The automated lighting flickered on as she walked in, shedding its sterile glow onto rows and rows of packed boxes. Probably electronics she figured, some new model of low-end peripherals to be dumped onto corner stores across the city. Boring and superficial.
The satisfying clack of her shoes rang through the hollow space between the boxes as she made her way to the door on the other end. Of course some idiot had forgotten to lock the pallet cart in place, letting it drift in front of the door. The masses outside were insufferable, but it was not particularly rare that the other esteemed patrons of these refined establishments got on her nerves as well.
Shoving the cart aside (and actually locking it), she opened the door to a pitch black stairwell. After an embarrassing fall on her ass – her friend Dusk would never let her forget that night – she knew to take the descent slowly and intentionally. She stepped deeper and deeper, far beyond where the disgusting neon above could reach. The steady hum of machinery began to give way to an erratic thumping from below. It pulsed in chaotic rhythms, punctured by sharp noises and unintelligible shouts. Surely enough, the echoes of her asshole boss started to fade.
At the bottom of the stairs, she blindly felt in front of her until she felt the warm slab of metal. It was vibrating to the touch, unable to fully contain the cacophony behind it. A speaker above crackled to life, the distorted voice giggling before addressing her. “Good to see you back, I’ll let Ash know you swung by. Come say hi in admin if you’ve got the time, I’m here till light. Bring a drink too. Peripherals in the bin and I’ll buzz you in, enjoy your trip.”
The beep on the speaker was accompanied by a hollow clank to her side. Jalcin begrudgingly emptied her pockets into the slot that had opened in the wall. The policy was annoying, but necessary since Enforcement busted that one den in Zone 3. The slot slammed close and a click sounded in the wall before her. She pushed it open and a tidal wave of brutal sound washed over her. The bass pounded through her, erasing whatever else had been tumbling around in her brain. This was home, not the shitty overpriced Zone 4 apartment conveniently located near the lev-tram station. If there was any remote escape from the monotony of New Agamakar, it was down here.
She stumbled through the entrance hallway, her hand tracing the wall as she made her way to the beating heart of her third favorite dark den. The music grew louder, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness enough to make out rough shapes. Masses of bodies writhed between brief flashes of blue light. Screaming, laughing, moaning, cheering: all drowned out by the heavy beats of a passable synthshred set. She wished it was one of her friends playing tonight, but this would do.
It did not take long for her to push her way in and melt into the crowd. The elbows and knees knocking into her barely registered; it would not be the first time she would have to limp through work the next cycle. It was only in the middle of a painfully uninspired track that she could focus enough to notice the persistent shoving on her side. She had long since mastered the art of ignoring dark den junkies trying to get her attention, but the nagging hope that Ash had come down to check up on her won over.
Looking to her side, she was met by a pair of crazed eyes eagerly staring up at her. Even in the dim light, Jalcin could easily recognize the sentient meltdown next to her. The girl had only recently started showing up on the scene, popping up at a few of her favorite venues across the inner Zones. She was always flanked by a group of tweaked out thugs, but here she was alone. Her little clique had a distinct fondness for stirring up trouble before being removed by staff. Jalcin could only wonder how she had gotten into the most exclusive dens that had taken her megacycles to even become aware of. It was clearly not her charm; she looked like she had clawed her way from one gig to the next without sleeping or showering in between. Her lazy, overdone makeup was already streaming down her face and toward her torn fishnet shirt. Jalcin grimaced at the thought of being caught with this mess.
The girl tugged on Jalcin’s arm more forcefully, maintaining a toothy grin while nodding her head towards a nearby corner. The insistent pulling only grew stronger, enough to be more than a friendly request for attention. The tweakers usually got the message that she was not interested after a few seconds, but the girl’s grip tightened uncomfortably as she stared up unblinking. Her gaze was abruptly broken by a stray elbow colliding with her face, making her stumble back. Its owner – a towering guy with more gaudy piercings than Jalcin cared to count – only gave her a passing glance of surprise before turning back to the stage.
The girl’s attention shifted away from Jalcin as her eyes grew even wider. Accidents happened all the time; no doubt she had gotten clocked plenty already (if she was even lucid enough to feel it). Jalcin herself had nursed her share of bruises conveniently covered by her bulky lab coat the day after a gig. The girl must have taken it personally as she shoved her way back through the crowd towards him.
In a brief flash of blue light, Jalcin saw the girl lift her bulky boot and drive it into the back of the guy’s knee. He fell forward, pushing the person in front of him as he tumbled onto the floor. The lights flickered faster as the track swelled and blasted through Jalcin’s ears. She was pinned in place by the crowd, forced to watch the disjointed frames of violence. He was barely able to turn around and face up before the girl had mounted his chest, her fists crashing into his face. Some of the people immediately around them recoiled away, but awareness quickly dissolved into the crowd. His screams were completely swallowed up by the awful, repetitive bassline until his body went motionless.
The monotonous thumping continued as Jalcin was forcibly pulled from her spot. She could not see the girl dragging her through the sea of bodies, but she could feel the grasp on her wrist: slick with blood but painfully tight. Flashes of blissful faces flew by, lost in each other and the Essence dregs pumping through them. A heavy door flew open and Jalcin found herself thrown down onto the cold metal of a maintenance stairwell.
“Fuckin’ drones,” the girl fumed as she slammed the door behind her. Her manic shout just barely rose over the dampened thumps that came through the thick walls. “Can’t go out and enjoy yourself without some idiot junkie ruining the mood. No manners at all any more, couldn’t even take a little tap.”
She turned to face Jalcin, the flickering light strip of the stairwell barely illuminating her as she shambled over. Scrapes and splotches of blood covered her heavily tattooed hand as she extended it.
“Right right right, name’s Kimmy,” she said as a light-hearted afterthought. “Got a little distracted earlier, sorry. We got off on the wrong foot, but I know how to be a proper lady when I want to.”
Jalcin scrambled backwards up the stairs, her fingers scraping against the cold metal. Unable to get either traction or full control of her limbs, she screamed in the desperate hope that someone outside could hear her. “What the fuck do you want? Stay away from me you fucking creep!”
“Let’s all just relax,” Kimmy said through gritted teeth. The clanking of her boots echoed through the stairwell as she slowly climbed up towards Jalcin. “We’re here to have fun, right? Isn’t that why you keep coming back? Everything else outside is just so boring.”
Jalcin yelped as her hand slipped, her back falling down onto the hard stair. Her view of the grimy ceiling was replaced with Kimmy’s unblinking eyes. “See I was hoping we could be friends,” Kimmy whispered as she leaned in closer. “I’ve got a soft spot for pretty girls, you know. And friends help each other out.”
Before Jalcin could reach up to push her away, she felt her wrist slammed into the wall. She could feel the blood smearing on her skin as Kimmy gripped her cheeks.
“Your boss,” Kimmy seethed. She was leaning in closer, her hot breath washing over Jalcin’s face. “You should introduce us. Call it…professional networking. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”
Jalcin’s thoughts raced as adrenaline flooded through her. “Who, Arialis?” she stammered. “She left the city already, she’s gone.”
The grip tightened and Jalcin’s muscles screamed. “I know I know,” Kimmy pouted, “it’s such a shame. You’ll just have to pass on a little message for me.”
Shifting to take her weight off, Kimmy leaned back and her face disappeared from view. Jalcin felt the warm hand trace up her leg until it reached her pocket, depositing a minidrive inside with a gentle pat.
“Now be a good friend,” Kimmy mused as she stood back up, “make sure that gets to her. If I hear back, I’ll get you front row tickets to a real party.”
Jalcin slumped down the stairs, her head swimming as the ceiling spun around above her. “Oh yeah,” Kimmy added, “might want to skip this den for a while. Just a friendly warning. The drinks here are shit anyways.”
The monotonous thumping briefly flooded in until the door slammed shut. Jalcin’s breath slowly evened out while the hollow echo of the track rang through the stairwell. She really missed that smaller den in Zone 3.