Chapter Text
Rel stared up at the night sky, a bluish black shade too defiled by light pollution to see the heavens.
"Real shame you can't see the stars, huh, Rel?" Cantro's voice was soft, but not disappointed. Of course. He could always find the beauty in anything, be it a dark sky or a foggy city street, or even Rel himself.
"Yeah." Rel turned his head to look at him, feeling almost nauseous. The motion felt too fast, the night too warm. A thousand unsaid words bit at his tongue, threatening to spill out.
Who needs stars in the sky when there's one right here next to me?
Then it all came crashing down.
Bee-beep. Bee-beep. Rel dragged himself out of bed with a groan, slamming his hand down on the alarm clock. The good dreams were worse than the bad ones. He'd rather hear Cantro screaming at him in his subconcious for being responsible for his death than wake up expecting a cheery good morning text from him. He trudged to the bathroom, hopping over piles of dirty laundry and empty beer cans, dead eyes staring into dead eyes as he looked in the mirror.
"Another dream. Pull yourself together, you sentimental clown." And yet, he could still hear Cantro's laugh ringing in his ears, smell his cologne biting at his nostrils addictively. It felt like if he reached out, he'd feel Cantro's shoulder beside him, a quiet comfort.
"Five years. Five years and you still haven't gotten over that goddamn man."
"Awww, don't be so rough of yourself. It's not your fault."
Rel didn't turn around. He didn't have to to know it wasn't Cantro. It wasn't Cantro because it hadn't been Cantro the hundreds of other times before, when Rel had turned around.
A shadow appeared in the mirror, then it became Cantro, his mouth turned down in a frown. "What, you don't want to see me?"
Don't turn around.
Cantro walked forward and wrapped his arms around Rel's waist. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, but Rel could feel Cantro's arms through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and it felt like every place that Cantro touched was on fire.
Don't turn around.
Cantro's hand drifted lower on Rel's waist as he lightly kissed his cheek. "C'mon, we both know you miss me."
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When Rel turned, there was nothing there. There was never anything there, and there never would be.
Rel took a shower, then pulled on clothes, a prime example of Rel's coture fashion style, "not caring." Baggy jeans and a grey oversized hoodide, accessorized with a forest green beanie and fingerless gloves. He didn't bother to shave the brown stubble that poked at his chin. Rel grabbed his keys and sauntered out the door.
As Rel pulled out of the parking lot of his appartment building in a beat-up 2058 Mercedes from nearly 20 years ago, he was instantly surrounded by self-driving cars.
"…Newfangled clanker crap," he muttered under his breath as a billboard flashed the words, "Make our roads safer for everyone. Join the future by purchasing a self driving car today!" It almlst seemef although the advertisement was directed specifically at him specifically, seeing as how he was the only not self driving car on this stretch of road as far as the eye could see. Not very far in an urban city, but Rel knew the self driving cars stretched on for mile after mile. Hell, he might be the only person who still drives his own car in all of Nu York.
The logo on the billboard mocked Rel. "Strider Industries," a name Rel could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. And suddenly a memory hit him like a freight train.
"Whaaaaaat?! You don't like technology? But I own a self driving car company. Strider Industries."
"Yeah, sure, but… I dunno. I just don't trust those AI cars to not glitch out."
"So you don't think my company can make things well? That's mean, Rel."
"No! That's not it, I just trust myself more than a program. It's not you, Cantro."
Rel had been right to trust his instincts. That night, if he hadn't asked Cantro to stay for a few mpre days, he'd be alive and they'd be happy and maybe…
He remembers the scene all too well. A police's voice, muffled, explaining how the self driving cars had glitched at the worst possible second. A roaring sound like the ocean rushing in his ears as he stared at the mangled mess of the two cars. The scent of blood hanging in the air so sharp you can almost taste it.
Rel's attention snapped back to the road, because as tempting as it was to simply stop driving and let himself join Cantro, he knows there's no point. He wouldn't end up hiting any of the other cars, and such would just crash into a stretlight, leaving Rel with a totaled car but still very much alive. And if he totaled his car, he'd be forced to buy one of the accursed self driving cars.
As he arrived at his job, Rel stared up at the grey building, a stony spire the same color as the sky. It was an office supply company, and Rel worked in the factory line, a mind numbing, repetetive job checking to make sure the pencil weren't broken. The factory line was always empty except fot him, so it tended to be a quiet job. Well, except for his thoughts of course.
Quality control was one of the few jobs not yet stolen by AI. Not yet, at least. Most people didn't have jobs nowadays. Rel kept one to have cash for other things he wanted that weren't free, like desserts and alcohol. Because robots tended the farms, the food was free. Doctors and lawyers were found unneeded when it was discovered that robots could do their jobs better than them. Even the government was colntrolled by AI. No voting, no politics, just some calculations about what code needed to be changed. And crtics applauded as the gas prices were lower than ever, turning a blnd eye to the mountainous suicide rate and the millions of other people who wanted to commit. Rel suposed that everything he'd heard about the past governments couldn't possibly be true. It couldn't be worse then it was now. Couldn't it?
The work day at the factory was boring and repetitive, Rel's eyes glazing overas he stared down at the rows and rows of pencils coming down the conveyor belt. The pencils were rarely broken considering the machine's surrounding him's perfect work. At times like these, his mind always drifted off and the voice returned.
"You know, you could join Strider Industries. Your job would be less boring, that's for sure. And we both know you're qualified."
Rel didn't say anything. He knew that if he responded, it would jut be harder for him to convince himself that Cantro wasn't real.
"Maybe you don't realize this, but my sister would hire you in a heartbeat. Maisie'd hire you just because you're, well, were mine.
Rel's breathing got heavier as he felt a hand brush his shoulder. Cantro's voice washed over him like a wave, suffocating him in the sweet words that began to fall from.his lips. Arms draped around Rel's neck as a warm breath, and then lips brushed against his cheek in turn.
"It's okay, my love, I know why you keep this job." A soft laugh as Cantro lightly turned Rel's head towards him. "You want to spend more time with me."
Rel's heart almost stopped as Cantro kissed him. He realized with a start that he could see him, just before his eyes slid shut.
A broken pencil churned past along a factory line, unnoticed, as a broken man stood alone in an empty factory, surrounded by the cold embrace of machines and a dream.