Chapter Text
cecil almost laughs as she hears the thunder rumbling outside. lightning flashes against the lab’s glass windows in quick, jittering intervals. in the dark of the room, the gun in glory’s hand glints against the light.
“don’t you dare move.” glory coolly says. her other hand clutches a hard drive. cecil’s hard drive. “don’t make this harder for yourself.”
cecil’s ears are ringing. loud. disorienting. it drowns out everything but the sound of glory’s voice.
“is that it?” cecil grits through her teeth. “i thought—you—we were going to do this together.” tears prick at her eyes. she can barely think. “how could you—“
in front of her, glory remains impassive. the gun in her hand barely moving an inch. aimed straight at cecil’s heart.
“how could you do this to me?”
“when things no longer serve their purpose, you throw them away.”
cecil chokes out a laugh, rough against her throat. she wants to disappear. to crumple into the ground and fold into herself until it all goes quiet. but instead she gets mean.
“and what are you going to do then?” she roughly points at the hard drive. “do you actually think you’re capable of doing what i’ve done? don’t be fucking stupid. you will never understand what i’ve created. and in the years that it’ll take to reach my level, i’d have already surpassed you.” she’s shouting now, but she doesn’t care. she just needs glory to hurt. she needs her to listen. to stay.
glory almost looks bored. “are you done begging? you’re the one that doesn’t understand. it’s over. now get out of my way.”
her finger moves to press the trigger. cecil screams.
around them, glass shatters. glory clutches her head in pain, the other hand blindly moves to shoot. on instinct, cecil grabs the gun and smashes it against glory’s head. outside, thunder bellows.
glory falls to the floor and cecil follows. lightning flashes. glory’s skull cracks against the gun. thunder. both of cecil’s hands grip the gun as she smashes it again and again against glory’s head. lightning. her hands shake but she doesn’t stop. thunder. blood starts to pool at her knees. lightning. she’s crying now, teardrops intermingling with the blood on glory’s face. thunder.
when she finally puts down the gun, the ringing in her ears is deafening.
she falls against her body, sobs echoing against glory’s chest. she lets out another scream, twisted and guttural. but this time no glass shatters, and glory remains still beneath her.
suddenly, something vibrates against her chest. glory’s phone. cecil scrambles to stand. glory remains unmoving. the phone continues to chime. driven by panic, cecil grabs the hard drive, now long forgotten on the floor, and stuffs it into her backpack. she grabs the rest of her things, and without looking back, she runs.
x
the rain is unrelenting as cecil stands in front of the doors of the odd workshop. the traces of dried blood on her clothes having faded a bit after being soaked in the rain. she spent most of the ride here in trance. in hindsight, it was a dangerous move on her part, but all she could think about was glory.
her words. the lack of emotion. her voice. cold and thin. her face. the mess of blood and tears—
cecil huddles closer in the cold of the rain. it’s like glory said, it’s over. and now she has to move on. she knocks on the door.
“no new commissions this week.” a muffled voice calls out from behind the door. “if it’s a rush job, the fee is triple.”
“it’s me.” cecil calls back, unwilling to reveal her name in public. “from the university.”
she hears soft scuffling from behind the door. after a few moments, it opens. a man in his 40s peeks out. “you guys are late—“
he takes pause at only seeing cecil. “where’s the other one?”
“she couldn’t make it.”
the man gives her a once over. his eyes catch on the blood. “i see. can you still work?”
cecil nods. “of course.”
he opens the door wider for her to step in. inside, cecil is grateful for the warmth. in the center of the room is a telescope-looking mechanism. it points up at the large glass dome of the workshop. outside, the stars glitter like jewels against the night sky.
“just put your bags down wherever. i expected two of you, so i placed some sleeping bags by the corner over there. do what you want with the extra.” he walks back to a corner of the room where a table and some hologram monitors are placed.
“once you’ve warmed up, head over to that station over there.” he points over his shoulder to a table with a computer and surgical looking instruments are placed. “i assume you’ve read the brief i sent over. if you have any questions, just ask.”
while in the midst of his explanation, cecil stares at the night sky above. she feels the hum of the machines in the workshop. a mechanical choir. despite it all, it’s beautiful out here. she wishes glory were here with her.
“hey? cecil, you there?”
she snaps back to reality at the sound of her name. “oh yeah, yeah. just. . . really fucking cold.”
she walks to her station and sets down her bags beside it. she shrugs off her damp jacket and hangs it behind the chair. she surveys the instruments on the table. tools she could only dream of using freely back in the university. she boots up the computer and acquaints herself with the commission given.
“rough night?”
she glances at him. “what?”
“i said, rough night?” he continues to work, not sparing a glance. cecil wonders if it’s concern or something else lacing his voice.
“as rough as it gets in the n109 zone, i suppose.” she shrugs. she takes a laser from the table and cuts into the protocore in front of her. it’s a simple enough job. alteration to increase capacity and form compaction. she could do this in her sleep. but she throws her mind to it. anything to forget. to move on. she focuses on the frequency of the protocore as it buzzes against the laser.
the man, on the other hand, has other plans. “i just figured, you being late and all. . .” he trails off, waiting for her to explain. she doesn’t.
“sorry about that, mr. phillip—”
“please, just phillip. i’m not that old.”
“sorry, phillip.” cecil corrects herself. “it was unplanned. i promise i won’t be late again.” she keeps looking at the protocore. keeps working.
“and the fact that only one of you showed up?” phillip probes.
“i told you, she couldn’t make it.”
“permanently?”
“don’t worry,” she places the protocore into a scanner. she inputs the appropriate codes into the computer. “i can do the work for the both of us.”
“and the blood?”
cecil’s hands still for just a moment on the keyboard but then she continues typing. her face doesn’t leave the screen. “sorry, i’ll dress better tomorrow.”
phillip sighs. she senses him turn to look at her. “look, i didn’t hire you to bring trouble. there’s enough of that to go around here. so if you and glory—“
“there’s nothing to it.” cecil interrupts. “she changed her mind. it’s like you said, it was a rough night. so now i’m the only one here.”
“really?”
she turns to look at him. phillip’s brow is furrowed, not quite believing her story.
“really.” she says.
phillip stares her down. cecil’s face remains still. with a final sigh, he turns back to his desk. she does the same.
they work in silence the rest of the night. cecil wills herself not to think of anything else.
x
a few hours later, phillip is packing up for the day. cecil glances at the clock on the computer: 11:45 PM.
“if you go out, make sure to lock up.” he shrugs on a coat that was previously hanging by the door. “i don’t care what you get up to outside of work hours. just make sure to keep the workshop safe and be back by 10 AM tomorrow.”
cecil absentmindedly nods. it’s not like she has anywhere to go to anyway.
“there’s a 24hr convenience store two blocks down. there’s a relatively affordable weapons shop three blocks after it.” phillip says, “just in case.”
“i’ll check it out sometime.” her mind briefly flashes to the bloody gun in her bag. she inputs some adjustments into the computer.
“well,” phillip stands by the open door. “that’s it. congrats on your first day here.”
“good night.” she says, flashing phillip a closed mouth smile.
with a nod, phillip is out the door. cecil hears the whir of the lock mechanism as it closes behind him. after she’s sure he’s not coming back, she grabs her backpack and heads to the bathroom.
after making sure the door is locked, cecil gets to work. she pulls the gun out of her bag. she unwraps the blood soaked handkerchief that she haphazardly applied while on the run. she puts the cloth aside and starts disassembling.
glory’s voice echoes in her head. unload the gun. remove the slide from the frame. make sure to put the smaller parts aside. get all the debris out. apply lubricant as needed. then, wipe it all down. easy enough, right? and cecil follows.
blood swirls in the bathroom sink. cecil washes it all away. after a few minutes, she’s finished. it needs some lubricant, but she figures she’ll get some later. against the bathroom light, the silver gun gleams quietly. her eyes stop at the engraving on the slide: two protocores, intertwined.
cecil goes to sit on the tiled floor, her head falling to her knees. for the second time that day, she cries.
x
cecil wakes to the shrill melody of her phone alarm. with a groan, she gets up. like routine, she goes to check her messages. empty.
oh right, she changed numbers. she checks her social media, a luxury she couldn’t quite get herself to erase. she locked her profile from messages but kept her account up. scrolling through posts about graduation and grad programs acceptances, cecil starts to question her decision to keep this thread to her old life alive. it’s self-flagellation at this point. she puts the phone down.
it’s over, she repeats to herself. she goes to shower.
after freshening up, she goes to check on the clothes she had washed last night. well, tried to. it’s still a little damp, but most of the blood had been washed away. she’s grateful that she chose to wear something dark. she grabs her jacket and goes to dry it a bit more by a fan phillip kept in the workshop. once satisfied, she puts it on and tucks the gun in an inner pocket. she’d need a holster.
she checks the time on her phone: 9:16 AM. it’s probably enough time to get some food, too.
after making sure the workshop was secured, she sets off.
the walk to the convenience store is calm enough. but cecil huddles just a bit closer to herself. she keeps her vision straight and her walk decisive. cars wiz past her, going over every speed limit possible. people walk down the sidewalk. some were even walking their dogs. it was almost normal. but ever so often cecil would walk past someone and hear the sound frequency of metal against their persons. sometimes a knife. sometimes a gun.
eventually, she makes it to the store. it would’ve been like the stores back in linkon if not for the big metal bars blocking both the entrance and windows. a hologram displays at the door: RING TO BE BUZZED IN.
cecil presses the button by the door and waits. a tiny red light blinks above it. it doesn’t move, but she feels the thrum of its electrical emissions on her. a scanner. there’s a beep, and then the door opens.
interesting, she thinks. it didn’t react to the weapon.
inside, a bored looking cashier sits behind bulletproof glass. radio pop plays through the store’s speakers.
cecil walks over to the fresh meals. she almost curses out loud upon seeing the prices: $250 for a rice bowl, 175$ for a ham and cheese sandwich, 295$ for fried chicken and mashed potatoes. she walks over to the cup noodles before she can feel anymore miserable. but that offers no reprieve either, with the cheapest cup costing 75$.
“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” she curses under her breath. she could practically hear glory’s voice saying that this was a highway robbery.
dejected, she takes a cup. she also grabs an iced coffee from the drink machines. at the counter, the register blares her total on the screen: 125$. cecil tries not to sigh when she taps her card to pay.
sipping on her coffee, she makes the walk to the weapons shop. it’s more of the same as the walk to the convenience store. despite it being morning, the n109 sky is dark and misty above her.
the shop didn’t have a buzzer, but she hears the same hum of a scanner as she walks in the store.
“what can i get you?” the shopkeeper asks from behind the counter. he looks to be around phillip’s age.
“a holster, a bottle of lubricant, and two standard 9mm ammo—21 rounds each.” cecil keeps her voice even. the shopkeeper is amiable enough, but there’s that unmistakable look on his face when he saw her’s. an outsider, it seemed to say.
“alright.” the shopkeeper turns to get her items. “our holsters are on that wall over there. bring over what you like while i fix up the rest of your order.”
there’s a wide array to pick from. she spots some chest holsters, some appendix ones. all with price tags that almost make her choke. she can only imagine what her total would be. and to think phillip said this store was affordable.
she settles on a vertical shoulder system. black genuine leather, with a 1,100$ price tag to match. after trying it on to get a feel for it, she heads back to the counter.
“i’ll be using it out.” she says. the shopkeeper nods in ackowledgement.
“gotcha. lemme just scan it.” he rings her up and the total on the screen practically taunts her: 2,325$.
cecil shrugs her jacket back on, the gun now firmly secure against her person with the holster. she tucks the ammo she just bought into the pouch on the right. she grabs the rest of her things and heads out.
when she finally makes it back to the workshop, phillip is already inside.
“good morning.” he says. cecil greets him back.
after getting some hot water for her cup noodles, cecil settles in for the work day. she quickly learns that phillip was going easy on her yesterday: she’d been assigned to three commissions, both with a deadline for next friday.
nine days—eleven if she worked over the weekend—to alter a protocore to withstand quick replacements between two custom guns, another protocore weapon alteration, and a spurtail alteration to adjust its laser. on the other side of the room, phillip is already tampering with the currently dormant wanderer.
she inhales the rest of her food and gets to work.
x
in a blink of an eye—and with a more stiff back—cecil makes it to next friday. sitting on the steps leading to the workstations, she stares at the banking app on her phone: an even two million was transferred to it 15 minutes ago.
“not bad for 35%, right?” phillip grins. “in a year you could be making double that per week.”
she pulls up a local protocore and associated materials website. looking at the prices, it’s actually pretty bad. she doesn’t even dare to look at apartment listings. cecil drops her head into her hands.
“what? don’t tell me you’re getting cocky on me?” phillip says, but his tone remains lighthearted.
no, but cecil was tired. tired from the fast-paced workload. tired from the drastic change of life in the n109. tired of sleeping on the floor. tired from eating salty and overpriced cup noodles. tired from constantly fighting away thoughts of glory and the life they could’ve had. she already feels the preemptive fatigue she’ll feel over the weekend if she wants to get any progress on her research. so against her better judgement, cecil gets vulnerable.
“i left everything behind. everything. it’s all gone and now, i can barely afford to recreate everything if i want to make it to the exhibition preliminaries. much less fucking eat.” she grits her teeth. “shit. forget i said any—“
“the zenith tech one?”
cecil sighs. “yeah. . . yeah, it’s in twelve weeks. and even if i do make it, it’ll just get harder for the finals.” she and glory were supposed to enter it together, but now she has to carry the burden alone.
“i can assign you to more commissions, but you best believe i expect the same level of quality.” phillip says. “unfortunately, the real money is in the solo work. that’ll take time. building up your portfolio, your reputation. no one wants to work with a nobody.”
cecil didn’t have the luxury of time. the exhibition would prove moving here was worth it. that she was smart enough—good enough.
suddenly, glory’s voice: you’re the one that doesn’t understand. her face scrunches. maybe she really was an idiot with dreams too big for what she is. maybe she should’ve died in that laboratory. maybe she deserv—
a hand on her shoulder interrupts her thoughts.
“it’ll be hard. lonely. but you just have to keep going.” phillip says beside her. “it was hell, rebuilding everything a decade ago. but i made it, and you will, too. time will sort everything out.”
it’s a sweet sentiment, but cecil is too bitter to accept meaningless words. again, glory’s voice, loud in her head: when things no longer serve their purpose, you throw them away. her eyes start to sting.
“i just need to make it to the exhibition. that’s it.” she manages to say.
before phillip can say anything else, cecil gets up. she pulls up the website earlier and orders the materials she needs. the zeroes in her account balance drop just as fast as it rose.
“the offer to do research in the shop still stands, right?” cecil asks. she walks back to her station. all while avoiding phillip’s gaze.
phillip makes no move to get up, but his brows furrow in concern.
“just use your own shit and don’t break anything, yeah.” he says.
cecil is already on her laptop. she looks through the files on her hard drive. in another window she types out systems that could recreate her research in the environment and with the materials she had right now. the university only provided simulations for wanderers, and after working on the spurtail this week, she realized there were so many other things she had to account for.
“and make sure you’re not a fraud living someone else’s dream.”
she whips her head to stare at him. confusion, murky like rainwater on a sidewalk bubbles up inside her. and then: anger, white-hot piercing her gut and making her ears ring.
“you don’t fucking know me.” the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them. “i stay out of your business, so stay out of mine.”
but phillip is already putting on his coat. “good night, cecil.” he says, and then he’s out of the workshop. the doors lock behind him quietly.
amidst the hum of the machines, and the vast n109 night sky above her, cecil feels more alone than she’s ever felt.