The lobby was underwhelming and cold. This was some cheap fly-by-night joint, cashing in on the station nearby without attention to quality. An employee—an honest to gods human—walked up with a tablet. Not even a hologram! What type of Hightower business didn’t have a pushy holo-greeter?
I took in the ordered row of doors behind him and noted that each guest got a room. Good place to wait out the mercs.
“Welcome to Dream Photographs, what dream would you like—”
“Anything.” I bounced on my heels.
He didn’t look up, and he was tapping the tablet way more than required. Probably playing a game. “Romantic beach, mountain vista, formation of the galaxy, field of puppies—”
“Field of puppies!” Myka blurted.
I looked at her.
She shrugged. “I like puppies.”
The employee swiped at his tablet. “Okay, Room Four is ready for you. Photographs will be taken automatically. Puppies are real, the grass is not.” He looked up. “Why are you two handcuffed together?”
I was already pulling Myka to Room Four. “It’s a kink thing,” I called over my shoulder.
If the employee had an objection, I didn’t hear it. We were safely in the studio. Or, well, we were in a holographic field of tall grass. The image of a sun cast rays without the warmth and blurry, knee-high grass spread as far as we could see. A close look revealed chasms of pixelation that wavered with a non-existent wind.
“This is so cheap.” I walked right through the blobby, green prairie, footsteps sounding on the hard cement.
Myka looked at the horizon. “Where are the puppies?”
As if summoned, a door opened, and a flurry of puppies sprinted across the studio, zeroing in on the lone humans. Myka dropped to her knees, and I had little choice but to do the same. Only a second later we were overwhelmed, assaulted by wiggly masses of fur and slobber and fucking delight.
A janky hover-camera was snapping candid shots. I ignored it. The puppies fought over who got to lick Myka’s face. Myka was laughing, eyes bright, petting first one puppy, then the next, then as many as crowded her. She looked at me.
That was it. Her real smile.
I was idly giving this one spotted puppy a belly rub, and I got kinda lost watching Myka. She was beautiful when she was happy. I’d never noticed. Her eyes were bright, and all semblance of subterfuge vanished. She looked sweet. Like a person who laughed all the time and found the joy in life no matter what. The holo-sun’s rays were fake, but the glow around Myka wasn’t. She shined.
I leaned past the twirl of puppies and caught her lips in a kiss. One of those firm but quick kisses. When I pulled away, her look was inscrutable. To be fair, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling at that moment either. No, what I was thinking was impossible, but in that swell of happiness I didn’t care.
Myka tended to a golden puppy dancing on her lap. “I’ve always wanted a dog, but it’s just not feasible with what I do.”
“What she does”. Being a contractor, at Glezos’s beck and call, prepared to travel at the snap of her boss’s fingers. All of Myka’s loyalty and devotion went to Cadinoff. There wasn’t room for a dog.
I flopped a puppy’s droopy ears, considering. “I could dog-sit for you.”
She gave me the look that suggestion deserved: Mocking skepticism. Of course I wouldn’t dog-sit for her. I hated her.
The field vanished, and we were left in a small, bare studio. The puppies skittered on the floor as they started carousing away from us, called by some unheard signal. Then it was just Myka and me and a lot of confusion.
Myka cleared her throat. “We should get to the station.”
“Right.” Because we were in the middle of some shit.
As if in silent agreement not to discuss things, we exited the studio. We’d only stepped from the door when that employee popped up.
“Would you like to see the selection of photos?”
A family exited Room Three. Mom, Dad, and a boy and a girl. The kids were being boisterous, so Dad was yelling at them. Must have lost his patience during the formation of the galaxy. My stomach flipped. I hated when people yelled at kids.
“No.” Myka answered the employee.
My attention was stuck on the family. The boy was a being a little shit, like kids often were. The Dad, a hefty guy, snatched his son by the back of the neck and whispered sharp words. The boy’s face furrowed up with a sickening expression as the Dad stood straight, grip still tight on his son’s neck. When the boy staggered, the Dad violently shook him like he was rolling dice.
Myka tugged at my hand. “El, we need to go.”
That kid was marched to the exit. He knew what was gonna happen when he got home. He knew, and he couldn’t do anything about it. It made him so angry to be so helpless. He was also scared, and he hated being scared. It was all over his face, and my chest ached with my pounding heart.
“Elly.”
The entry door slammed shut as the family left. Myka hadn’t noticed. I unclenched my fist and took a deliberate breath.
“We need to go.”
We did. I let Myka lead us to the station and onto the train. Everything was a blur until we sat on a grubby seat where a split in the upholstery spit up curls of padding. I wanted a smoke. A smoke would clear things up. Or a drink. Or a something.
I knew the statistics, okay? People who grew up in fucked up homes like mine created their own fucked up homes when they
