The barista guessed anyway. “Nah,” he said; “I’m just fucking with you.”
JD nodded toward the basement door. “Khoder in?”
“Does the kid ever leave?”
“Thanks.”
JD carried his drink to the rear corner, sipping his espresso before he could spill any. He pushed through a door that led to the basement stairs and descended slowly into purple-hued, blacklit darkness. The door swung closed behind him, and the music became muffled, deadened further with each step he took below the surface. Descending beneath ground level, all JD could picture were the layers of compressed garbage on all sides—the countless tons of ocean waste that created the foundations of the city.
Khoder’s door read the friendly tag on JD’s phone and slid open on silent apparatus. The air inside was blood-hot. Khoder reclined in a SOTA virt chair in the middle of the room, his head encased in a bulbous sphere for complete peripheral vision. His black haptic-feedback suit ran with folds like gills where it clung to the kid’s skinny frame. The door closed and an eerie silence descended on the space. The dense quiet amplified the slow thud of JD’s heart, the gurgle of his gut, and the painful click of his knee; all those sounds of the meat engine.
Fragmented grabs from in-game fell slow across the walls—among the black of space rare spots of color drifted like machine snow. Explosions bloomed, scattered to form a leering deathmask drawn in abstract. JD shuddered despite the heat.
“Hey, Khoder.”
No response.
JD counted out two hundred euro from the envelope and dropped the notes on Khoder’s chest.
“Khoder,” JD said again. He shook his head and sat with his back against the wall and his sore leg stretched out. He finished his coffee, placed the cup down near a pile of takeout containers growing from the corner, then took his phone from his pocket and logged into VOIDWAR.
JD held the phone close to his face to block the view of Khoder’s room, and his contex painted the in-game world over his eyes in stripped-down, third-person view. His corvette drifted in the barren solar system his home rig was slowly assembling. Far-off stars glimmered on the edges and the local sun slowly grew, a churn of pulsing light in the center of the gestation. He turned his ship to the jumpgate, and scanned his friends list to find Khoder’s location.
He took three jumps through the galaxy’s transit system and arrived in Ertl—his mobile processor struggling to render the wide belt of asteroids and massively eroded planets of the quarry system. Just off-center, near the sun, two fleets circled one another, streaks of light filling the void between them.
“Khoder,” JD said, stern over voice chat.
“You sound pissed, bro,” was the kid’s curt response.
“I’m in the room.”
“Room?” Khoder said, sounding vague.
JD reached an arm out and found a sticky ecoboard takeout container. He lobbed the box at Khoder; it bounced off the kid’s helmet and clattered to the floor.
“Oh, the fucking room. Why are you here?” Khoder said, his voice betraying the very teenage resentment of meeting in the real.
“I told you I was coming. I wanted to give you your cut from that repo job.”
“Money transfer, bro,” Khoder said, muffled murmur coming from inside his helmet while his voice came clear through the game.
JD hesitated, surveillance vigilance telling him to keep his mouth shut. “I’ve got another job, in the real this time.”
“Good for you, bro.”
JD almost swore. Instead he clenched his free hand and his jaw. “I need a hacker, and you’re the best I know.”
“Best there is, but I’m busy.”
JD winced as he stood. He walked over to Khoder and slapped the side of his helmet three times. “Get out here and talk to me, you little shit.”
“Okay, bro, fuck. One minute.”
JD went back and leaned against the wall. “Kids these days,” he mumbled to himself.
In-game he let his corvette loiter by the jumpgate, keeping clear of the battle engulfing more and more of Ertl. A blur of light pulled away from the melee, rushed at JD, and stopped dead mere kilometers away. JD took his eyes from the screen at the sound of creaking leather. The whole room seemed to vibrate as Khoder sat up—the money slipped from his chest onto his lap. He removed the helmet; his black hair was glossy with grease and a shadow of a moustache crept across his upper lip.
“Fucking rude, bro.”
“Money,” JD said, pointing at Khoder’s lap.
Khoder snatched up the notes and held them under his nose. “If this happened every time I came out, maybe I’d visit the real more often.”
“Thanks again for the assist,” JD said.
“Money is its own reward,” Khoder said with a sly grin. He stood and held the helmet against his side like one of those old astronauts back from space. “Bro, one day you’re going to walk in here while I’m balls-deep in some VR fucking. Teach you to come uninvited.”
“We both know you’d never soil that haptic suit.”
Khoder looked down at his outfit, matte black material edged with silver accents. He shrugged and nodded—JD was right.
“What’s this job that’s so fucking important?”
“Can you secure the room?” JD asked.
“Already done.” As Khoder spoke the drifting snatches of VOIDWAR surrounding them fell to the floor and disappeared, quickly replaced by padlock icons tiled over every surface.
JD found a slot at the base of Khoder’s virt chair and plugged in Soo-hyun’s datacube. The room’s OS automatically sifted through the information, grouping pieces of data together and neatly arranging it across each of the room’s four walls.
Building blueprints and security camera stills took up the north and east wall, street surveillance footage and neighborhood maps covered the south, and documents tiled the west wall, text too pixelated to read. Handwritten addenda were highlighted, scanned, and translated into text—a brief rundown of security protocols, potential issues, and dire warnings, all scrawled in Soo-hyun’s tight script.
Khoder whistled, crossed his arms over his thin chest, and took it all in, turning slowly to inspect each data
