White ceramic planters lined the corridors, potted with plants that JD couldn’t name. Their leaves were so brightly green and shiny that they looked plastic. JD pressed a wide leaf between his thumb and forefinger, felt the subtle grain of the plant—too fine to be anything but organic.
It was the most high-class residence JD had ever been inside—floors laid with authentic marble tiles, corridor walls decorated with boring art that had obviously been bought in bulk, the kind you see in hotel rooms and the background of advertisements. The corridor was, by definition, a liminal space, but JD imagined the vapid interior decoration extended into the apartments themselves; the residents all wealthy enough to own a number of homes situated around the globe, each as lifeless as the next. It made JD want to spit, so he did. A moment later one of the squat cleaning robots passed over the sputum, erasing his worthless protest.
“Kid, what’s your status?”
“Why ‘kid’ all of a sudden, bro? It’s disrespectful.”
“It’s your codename.”
“Bro,” Khoder said, dragging out the single syllable, apparently impressed. “Should I use your codename, bro? What’s your codename?”
“Just keep calling me ‘bro,’ ” JD said. “What’s your status?”
“I’m already in, bro.”
“Really?”
“Yup. They’ve got vulnerability scans running on the network perimeter, but there’s always a way in. Usually management or internal bullshit means there’s an IP range not getting scanned. I just had to find it.”
JD was certain that was the most words he’d ever heard Khoder speak consecutively. “So, we’re good?”
“I’ve disabled the internal alarms. Couldn’t stop it from calling out, but I was able to change the number it calls. Any alarms you trigger are going straight to the nearest Reggae Chicken.”
JD chuckled.
“Heads up,” Khoder said; “security coming your way.”
“Alright, thanks,” JD said. “Keep an eye out, and tell me what Shades is up to.”
“Will do, bro.”
According to Omar, the guards made regular rounds to earn their keep, but the first one wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes. JD heard the guard before he saw him—the thud and squeal of heavy-soled boots over tiled floor. He took the mop from Omar’s cart and began mopping just behind the cleaning robot, looking busy, pretending the bot missed a spot. It hadn’t, but sometimes they did, and according to Omar that was the only reason they even had a human cleaner on-site. Clean up after the cleaning robots. Repair the repair robots. Soon, the only jobs left would be robot manager, robot foreman, or robot medic.
In the corner of his eye, JD saw the security guard round the corner and stop. “Hey,” the guard called out.
JD’s stomach sank. He could feel the weight of the taser pressing against his leg, but he’d have to get close before he could use it. He turned and looked at the guard—a young, thickset Korean with unkempt hair.
“You’re not watching the game?” the guard asked.
JD grinned with relief. He tapped his headset. “I am listening to it,” he called out, mimicking Omar’s overly proper speech patterns. They didn’t look anything alike—Omar was fifty pounds lighter and a few shades darker—but if the guard didn’t want to see the differences, he wouldn’t. “I’ll watch the replay later.”
The guard smiled and called out, “Daehan Minguk,” in the singsong soccer chant for the Republic of Korea.
JD just smiled back, and the guard kept walking.
“Bro? What’s happening?”
“Must be getting his rounds out of the way before the match starts. Have you got the game up on-screen?”
“Yeah, bro.”
“Let me know when they kick off.”
JD continued to tail the cleaning bots, spot-cleaning here and there, but mostly just sweating in his coveralls while the polisher hummed behind him. When they reached the elevators, JD hit the call button and waited.
“You found Shades yet, Kid?”
“No movement on any of the cameras.”
“Alright. How you holding up?”
“Bored as fuck, bro. I thought this was gonna be hard, like my cock, not easy like your mother.”
JD winced. “You’re really not her type.”
The elevator doors opened and JD stepped inside. The bots crowded in around him in a vaguely threatening way—their infrared sensors like dark angry eyes, the flat line of a seam in their casing making a distinct frown. JD checked his reflection—the disguise looked convincing, apart from the dark patches of sweat that seeped from beneath his arms.
Omar would take the robots up to level two and continue his cleaning route, but JD hit the button for the fourth floor and the skybridge between buildings.
“I see Shades, bro.”
“Where are they?”
“Far side of the street. System keeps trying to spike to yellow alert when the cameras get a glimpse of all those delinquent losers, but I’ve got it clamped down.”
“I thought we wanted the system to flag them,” JD said.
“Not until after. Head of security will only come on-site for a big problem. They see it unfolding slow, maybe they think their lackeys can handle it.”
The elevator doors dinged open on the fourth floor, and a couple stood waiting to get inside. They stepped back and turned their heads to avoid even looking at JD, let alone acknowledging his existence or humanity. I hope you never feel safe in this building after tonight, JD thought bitterly.
The bots followed JD out of the elevator, and the residents disappeared inside the metal cube.
“Kickoff,” Khoder said.
“That’s the signal.” JD switched channel: “Shades.”
No response.
The bots began cleaning the corridor, so JD left them to it and walked ahead, passing more bland art, smell like bathroom air freshener—a nauseatingly artificial scent.
He rounded the corner and came to the skybridge, the hallway opening onto a long stretch of glass that thrummed in the breeze. Planters were spaced evenly along the suspended corridor, but otherwise it was clear. Both walls and ceiling were glass, and handprints collected at chest height all along the length of the bridge. Beyond the transparent pane, the city stretched out, seemingly endless, with lights reaching to the horizon and climbing into the sky.
