Chapter Text
A buzz gently awoke Joey from his half-lull, alerting him to another customer. Though it wasn’t really the customer that woke him up so much as the sound itself. A slew of gentle blips alerted him to any traffic the store got. Customers in the hundreds, the thousands, even, between the hours of 10 PM and 4 AM. The higher the note became, the more full they were until, sometimes, he was required to check his computer monitor and see which rooms had filled up.
Digital libraries—that is, stores that offered specialised Internet space for specialised experiences that no longer existed on Earth—always filled up at night. When the blips became too high-pitched, he had to divert incoming customers one way or another. Make a new server; kick off people who’d been “experiencing” too long. Anything to sell another experience and make the boss, whoever the hell it was that owned the space or the technology, a few more credits.
But the buzz wasn’t a blip. It wasn’t a customer somewhere halfway across the world, or even one down the street. The buzz was foreign and weird.
Twisting in his chair, Joey swivelled towards the door.
A digital library was a small place. About two and half closets. If it was bought, it would probably be size of an apartment that a family of four could reasonably squeeze into. Six panes of LED glass, evenly spaced from one another, protruded up from the floor and created mock shelves constantly scrolling with information so fast that he couldn’t comprehend it. Most of it was in some foreign language, anyways. All to experience. Experience descriptions, books, pictures. Whatever. Whatever the customer was looking for. All they would have to do is tap the screen—after they had paid, of course—and they could find whatever it was they wanted to see, read, or know.
He thought the source of the noise was one of those screens short-circuiting. They were two-generations old and always in need of repair. The library owner said he’d call a technician, but that was over two months ago. Because really, they didn’t need repairing. There was no reason to, because libraries weren’t necessary for their pictures or information, just their experiences. So no one ever physically entered the building.
At least, not until they did.
Joey leaned forward. So forward, his face was pressed to the bullet-proof glass he sat behind. He wiped off the steam and peered at the tall shadow dancing between the glass panes.
“Hey.”
The shadow leaned to the side, waving their hand in front of the screen before tucking it into the pocket of his neat chinos.
“Hey, you.”
The shadow stood up straight but didn’t turn.
Joey wiped off more of glass, getting a better look at the character in front of him. A man. Maybe a man, he was lithe but shapely in his hips and shoulders. That wasn’t the confusing part. Gender didn’t matter all that much, least of all to Joey. It was the fact that a human being stood in front of him, existed in person. Living and breathing.
When was the last time he saw another human being?
The man was tall. Giraffe tall, pale, with neat combed chestnut hair that hung close to his eyes. Blue eyes. Glowing deep in the shimmering of the information flooding across the panes. The man looked up to the ceiling and stared, dead-eyed, just being. Existing.
Great, a smog-junkie.
That explained a lot. There wasn’t anything that the Portal couldn’t provide someone online. School, jobs, entertainment, social gatherings, shopping, even travel. There was no need to leave the Portal for anything. And if people did, it was for short periods of time. Mostly. Joey could count the number of times he’d physically spoken to a person, and the number of words he’d said, on both hands. Maybe a big toe, too. Because if he did run into someone on the streets, it was a smog-junkie. Someone who'd sat out in the grimy air outside and stared at the sky and it’s low-looming clouds and lived in their personal fantasy world and talked to no one.
“Hey, junkman, if you ain’t buyin’, ya gotta get out,” Joey said, trying to be easy.
The owner said he didn’t want smog-junkies clogging up the place. “Give them an inch, and they’ll piss on the floor,” he'd said over voicechat. It was a place of business, but Joey couldn’t help but be a mix of curious and sympathetic. He doubted smog-junkies sat outside because they liked it.
Joey rapped on the glass. “Ya got fifteen minutes, man. Get cooled off or whatever, but there’s no free samples. An’ I don’t have the credits to spare ya, neither.”
The man rocked forward and pressed his hand to the glass. The information floated to a crawl. With the other hand, he swiped through a long list that Joey tried to read but couldn’t. He was more interested in the state-of-the-art watch on the man's wrist. It's face was fine crystal with numbers constantly flashing.
The man either didn’t know he was being watched, or didn’t care. He observed the glass panes, unamused, unexpressive, until he eventually he set both hands on the glass and lowered his head. He laughed. Long and loud, barking until he couldn’t breathe.
Joey grimaced. “A’right, man. That’s enough, it’s time to go,” he said.
The man rested his back against the glass and went back to looking at the ceiling, his laughter tapering.
Joey unlocked the door and exited the desk. He rounded to the glass panes, taking careful steps. The switchblade in his front pocket was suddenly heavy. He hadn’t used that thing for a long time, and it probably last opened a box. He gripped it tight, wondering briefly if he should just run back and be safe behind the glass.
The curiosity to be close to another human being was too enticing. He licked his lips and got within inches. The man had slid down the pane and sat on the floor. Even splayed out loosely, he held himself together. His shoulders and hips were even. Hands folded on his knees. A formerly well-to-do smog-junkie Joey guessed, what with his watch and all.
“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” Joey began. “I get that it’s a tough world out there. Hot as balls, too, but ya can’t stay here. There’s a hospital not too far from here. They don’t need credits, least not upfront, but you can get three hots and cot there, maybe get the smog outta your lungs an’—,”
The man’s head thunked against the glass. A menacing smile split his face. “You’re actually not up to date. I can’t believe it.”
“N-no. Not in store. The Portal plug-in is though. All ya gotta do is...”
“I know how it works. Trust me, I know how it works.”
“Oh-kay. Okay. Yeesh.” The tension in Joey’s shoulders eased. He let go of the knife. “Ya know how it works. Got it. What are ya doin’ here, then? Here here?”
“Why does anyone need to come to the physical location?”
Joey shrugged.
“Of course you don’t know,” the man said, hopping up. “I suppose, for this job, all you need to be is Pavlov’s dog.”
“A what now?”
“Tch. You work in information, look it up.”
“Hey now! Even if I’m a whatever, at least I’m not a junkman bargin’ in here an’ bein’ an asshole. I have a job.”
“And? Do you want a trophy?”
“That’s it. Fifteen minutes was me bein’ nice, but since you’re a jerk, it’s time for you to go. No credits, no service.”
The man jammed his watch against the glass. Pixels floated around it, forming a makeshift payment kiosk. As it loaded information, dialling into the Portal and accessing a banking server, the man glowered at Joey. Even his eyebrows were shapely, though hidden. He was a strangely put together character, sharp in his cheekbones, with a slender but uneven bridge of his nose. Broken. So he was very familiar with other people.
The screen went blank before a box appeared.
Booting Portal v. 3.1.2
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Launching User.Access.Registry.
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Unlimited Access Verified
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Welcome back, Mister Seto Kaiba
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||Select Experience...||
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“Unlimited access...”Joey muttered. The pixels died, and fluttered to a series of selected experiences that, realistically, were only useful when plugged into the Portal. “I thought that was a myth.”
“Its not available to public peons like you,” the man, Seto Kaiba, said.
Joey sizzled in annoyance, but he didn’t back away from Kaiba’s death-glare. It was deeply, truly hateful, with a mix of jest in the middle, lifted by his little smirk. But it was a pulling gaze, too. This wasn’t an avatar. His eyes weren’t simulated. The true, deep blue really existed. The blemish on his cheeks and the sweat glistening in his pores was real, too.
“I—I ain’t a peon.“
“Hmph.”
“Or whatever dog-thing ya called me. You don’t look so special to me, neither.” Joey crossed his arms and did an up-down on Kaiba, coveting every divot, fold, and crease of his clothes. The name burned in the back of his brain.
Kaiba.
Seto Kaiba.
Kaiba. Kaiba. Kaiba.
Where had he heard it before?
“Then you’re very unqualified to work in the information sector,” Kaiba replied. He flicked through screens and drop-downs with practiced ease. “You don’t know me. You don’t know why people come to physical locations. You don’t know what Pavlov’s dog is. Useless.”
“Fine then, if I’m so damn useless, I’ll go be useless over here. Don’t ask me for any help,” Joey said, turning towards the whistling notes coming from behind the desk. Servers full.
“Fine. Go on doggie. Respond to your bell.”
The door slammed behind Joey, and he punched in the lock code before falling into his chair. In reality, readjusting the servers was easy. A few keystrokes and button presses, plus just a little bit of analysis. He could do it in his sleep. He did do it in his sleep.
But as he set up the next server, he found himself watching his customer. Which was weird to think. He had a customer actively browsing the digital library. For what, he couldn’t tell. Kaiba was robotically searching through menus and different libraries of information for something that looked very archaic and labyrinthine. Walls upon walls of codified information being sorted through and tapped at, before he finally extracted small bits of data and transferred it to his watch with a few taps against the crystalline screen.
Kaiba huffed the whole time.
“People come in for porn, usually,” Joey said after the first hour.
Kaiba didn’t reply, and he rounded the edge of the store before taking up access on a different pane of glass.
“But I haven’t seen that in over a year. The boss hasn’t exactly made this place look too open. I light up the sign if I remember, but the shutters are all closed up. Door needs a little bit of oil or somethin’ to get goin’ again. I mean, you see it yourself. Inside’s clean enough. I get around to that at night when it gets real dull, but there’s only so many times you can clean a floor.”
Briefly, Kaiba looked towards Joey. A passing thought, a question rounded on his pale lips. Just a shade deeper than his skin. Not pink, but not bad or cracked. He seemed less like a smog-junkie and more like someone with Sloth Sickness. Not that anyone actually knew what they looked like, not until they died. But he was pale and stick-like, same as the photos Joey had seen pop up on the newsfeeds. Still, he said nothing and continued combing the information.
On the second hour, Joey said: “I don’t think you’re looking for porn. You’d’ve left by now, an’ I’d be cleanin’ up your mess. Which reminds me: we don’t have a bathroom that customers can use. You’ll have t’ go to the public bathroom at the end of the block. By the ExpressBake. It’s hidin’ behind the delivery rate sign.”
“Why are you talking?” Kaiba asked.
Joey knew and didn’t know. He blew air out his nose and replied, “You’re here. And even if you’re an asshole, it beats a blank.”
The outline of a book shimmered in Kaiba’s hands, and he flicked through the pages. Paper ruffled off-time to his flips, but the noise made Joey smile. It felt like an actual library, for once. Not a porn shop. Or a specialised experience shop. And Kaiba’s hands were meticulous and long, with polished, clean nails. Pointed. Probably warm, too, like the rest of his sweat-dotted skin.
“If ya ask nicely, I can help you find what you’re lookin’ for.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Two heads are better than one; you’re workin’ hard on figurin’ out somethin’. It’d be easier to plug-in to the Portal, y’know.”
Kaiba rolled his eyes and shoulders, all at once, and calmly asked: “Do you think I came to this dump because it’s scenic?”
“I...no?”
Carding his fingers through his hair, Kaiba went back to work.
Joey spent the quiet time wondering where he knew the name Kaiba from, what kind of connotation his name, his being, might have. It was something he heard on a newsfeed, or from some reporter. A ticker reel, or an advertisement before accessing the Portal himself. There were a thousand possibilities. The constant stream of information that he drowned out when he had the chance. It was all noise and static in his brain. Which was probably why the name was stuck in the garbage pit.
Not knowing who Kaiba was was irritating, but not necessary. Joey would have been curious one way or another. And while he could have looked up all his user information, ran it through the database and pulled up every scrap the library had on him, Joey preferred not to. He watched instead. The same way he stared out his apartment window and hoped something interesting would pass by. Delivery trucks and their automated workers were too dull. He once thought there had to be people in those trucks, but its delivery service was systematic. It pulled up to his apartment complex and put packages in the chute by the door, sending it through the building and into the proper apartment. No human contact required.
It was weird. He heard people. Hundreds of families lived around him, but he never saw them. He wondered if they noticed the dim or broken lights in the halls, the curling carpet, the chipped linoleum. Or maybe that was just him; he walked it everyday, took the elevator down and crossed the block to an old alley that let him into the store. He didn’t see his coworkers during shift change. They didn’t work physically—everything could managed in-home, at their own Portal, but Joey was something of an anachronist. Old-fashioned, hopeful. Plus someone needed to clean the store, just in case, and the owner wasn’t too peeved to let someone else do his job.
It paid off every so often. And he stared, unrelenting, memorising every detail of Kaiba and wishing he would get closer.
“Ya seemed surprised it was outta date,” Joey said after the third hour.
Kaiba squatted down to read. “I was.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I dunno. That’s why I was askin’ you. Ya don’t gotta be an ass about everythin’.” Joey kept close to the glass, wiping it off as the steam set in again. The air conditioner rattled awake behind him. “Do ya always talk to other people like that?”
“What other people?”
“Y’know, on voicechat or the avatars or whatever.”
“I don’t talk to other people,” Kaiba said. “Least of all on the Portal.”
The brunet’s legs shook, and he rocked back, sitting cross-legged. His attention never faltered from the book.
“Ya got unlimited access though. Why wouldn’t ya go onto the Portal all the time? Gotta be more interesting than tryin’ to look up somethin’ here. Faster, too.” Joey hated asking after he did. It sounded like he wanted to run Kaiba off, which was anything but true. Even if he didn’t have the manners to talk to people, talk was talk. “Whatever. If ya like it outta date, who am I to judge? Do you, rich-boy.”
Kaiba’s head rose. Their eyes met for a split second. “You figure out who I am yet?”
“Nah. But your watch is nice. I wouldn’t let the smog-junkies see it.”
“Mm.”
Soon, the sun began to light the overcast clouds, leaking through the front shutters, and woke Joey from his vigilante haze of Kaiba. He stood, sending the books back into the glass panes and closing out of every program he had accessed. It was almost time for shift change for Joey, too.
“All done for the night?” Joey asked.
“Yes. I need you to do something, if you’re even capable.”
A sour comment was held back. “What?”
“Delete all records of my access.”
“I...I don’t...” Joey cleared his throat. “That’s a tall order, y’know. All records need back-up. Jus’ in case there’s a problem later down the line. Credits and all that.”
“What credits?”
True, Joey thought, what credits exchanged hands? The mythical unlimited access was something bought upfront and didn’t require constant in-put. The simple and free use of the Internet and the Portal.
“I kinda know how,” he finally said. “But ya better make it worth it.”
Huffing, Kaiba approached the desk. “Open the slot.”
Joey did so, and he Kaiba stuck his hands through. “What the heck—?”
“How much do you want?” Kaiba asked, tapping on the watch face.
“Want of what?”
“Credits, you idiot.”
Joey planted his hand on top of Kaiba’s. It wasn’t as warm as he thought it would be, but it was slick and soft. As if he’d stuck his hand in a glove of lotion.
“I’m good,” he said, knowing how much extra credits could help. But the touch was far more worth it. And he hung on, adding: “Jus’...I hope ya stop by again. It’s prolly gonna stay outta date.”
“Hmph. I doubt it. Nothing’s that behind.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Kaiba pulled his hand away and slammed the slot closed. “Just make sure you delete the information and we’ll see about a proper arrangement,” he said, and coolly walked out the door, flooding the room in orange light.
Joey swallowed his swollen tongue and got to work. Deleting all the information would take a good half-hour. More than that, because his hand shook from having Kaiba’s beneath his. He was crass and rude, and probably never coming back, but Joey held onto the feeling and did the task asked of him with hope humming in his chest.