Work Text:
The air chilled Avie to the bone as it streamed through her clothing. There was a zip zip noise that accompanied her on her path. She was skimming just above the rooftops of a town that looked like it was straight out of a fairytale, the houses were constructed out of dark wooden beams and blonde stone, and they were laid out in an organic jumble along twisting streets that rolled along with the uneven elevation of the ground.
She looked ahead of her to catch sight of her destination, which was a massive white wall that rose up even higher than she was flying just above the rooftops.
There were others around her, skimming the rooftops like she was. They all wore the same— uniform? High leather boots like the ones used for show riding, khaki pants, a large and cumbersome utility belts with square cases worn on either side of the hips and green hooded cloaks with some kind of complex shield shaped emblem embroidered on the back.
None of this was familiar to Avie, and yet she knew that she belonged there— was wearing the same uniform even— that she was in the middle of some task, the doing of which laid heavy in her chest.
She knew some of these who flew beside her would not make it back alive, that the task they were to complete far exceeded the bounds that she knew to be achievable by mere humans.
Yet the task must be done, and she must be the one to see it through.
The static buzz of the alarm woke Avie from her sleep.
She fumbled about her cluttered night stand for the sleep trigger, and the alarm stopped. The media system in her apartment started playing a relaxing, lo-fi tune with a complex bass line that was just loud and sonically interesting enough to keep her from falling back asleep but not as insistently unpleasant as the alarm.
Shit! Shit! Avie remembered she had a meeting in Mitras that day and she needed to be at the mono-rail station twenty minutes ago if she wanted to beat the inter-spoke commute traffic. She was too blasted on synth-drugs to set the early alarm when she arrived home the night before.
Avie rolled out of bed and dug through the wreckage of last nights pod-stream. Shoes, expensive and stylish clothes donated by sponsors, personal belongings and her pod-drone all lay on disorderly heaps on the floor.
Some part of her brain nagged her that she was real scum to live like this, but who had time for that shit trying to make a living as an experience artist in the sunken cities of Eldia.
Avie threw on a clean black button up, a pair of jeans that didn't have too many aesthetic rips in them, and a pair of plan black platform boots. Plain enough for an artist.
She liked the boots because they added a couple of inches to her height. Standing at five foot three inches, Avie needed all the help she could get.
Her siblings always made fun of her for her shorter than average height. Almost no one these days was as short as Avie, and her clan especially was known for being tall, imposing and serious.
They were all very unlike Avie with her short stature and creative pursuits.
She took a quick stop in the bathroom to attend to her hygiene and get a glance at herself in the mirror. Avie was pretty, but she always seemed to have permanent dark circles under her eyes from her late night activities.
She swabbed her piercings with some disinfectant cleanser and threw on a daily base to even out her complexion, applied eyeliner to match the natural plum colored stains under her eyes, and ran a palm-full of styling gel through her short hair.
Everything about her was stylized to be fashionably alternative, while contrasting her natural beauty with a hard edged aesthetic.
When Avie got to the vast vaulted dome of the transport hub, she groaned. The floor was full of commuters and the info-screens all over the station flashed waring after warning that the mono-trains were delayed due to increased bio-morph activity in the wastes.
Perfect.
Avie buys her fair and sits in a corner of the crowded waiting area, and she pulls out her cell and dials the number of the staffing agency where she's to interview.
"Hello, is this Inter-Dome Staffing," Avie says to the auto-operator on the other line.
"Hi, this is about my interview today at 030," she continues. "Sure, I'll hold for an operator."
"Interdome Staffing," the operator's voice has the timbre of humanity on the other end of the call, "who is calling?"
"Avie Ackerman, it's about my interview later," said Avie as she wondered wether she was taking to a real human or just another AI.
"Avie— yes, you're scheduled to interview at 030," said the voice.
"Yea, I wanted to let you know that there's a lot of traffic at the hub today and that I might be late," said Avie.
"Hmmm— Avie Ackerman, hey I watched your pod-stream last night. Yea, I can see why you're running late," said the voice with a snigger.
Avie was chagrined that the evidentially real human on the line had seen through her cunning excuse.
"Here, I can put you at 040," said the operator, "does that work for you."
"Yes," said Avie, "that works, thanks."
"No problem, I love your work," said the operator, "is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No that's it," said Avie.
"See you at four then," said the operator and hung up.
Avie sighed, maybe the helpful operator wouldn't put the late mark on her file and it wouldn't count against her in the interview but she doubted it. Regardless of social niceties, everything was tracked and logged in Mitras, nothing went unreported to the central agency. The job interview was screwed but missing the interview would also be a mark against her.
Avie absently scrolled through her phone. There were messages from her sisters, and her mother wanting to know if she'd be home for the Midwinter Celebrations.
She knew her family loved her but she had always been such a black sheep in the clan. It was like she wasn't meant to have a family and spending time around them made her feel inexplicably lonely for some reason.
She scrolled pass those messages without responding. She'd figure it out later.
There was a message from Onya, wanting to know if she got home safe last night. She write a quick response to him, letting him know she was all right.
Avie put her cell away and closed her eyes to think about her flying dream she'd been having that morning. Even though those dreams came with a sense of heavy responsibility and sometimes tragedy, they made her wish that she could be living that life instead of the one she was living now.
To her, those dreams represented freedom.
When Avie de-boarded the monorail in Mitras station, she thought she saw a familiar, messy brown head among the crowd, but she told herself she was probably just paranoid and overstimulated from last nights endeavors. Besides there was probably more than one overgrown chestnut shag in the whole city of Mitras.
As Avie exited the state and started down the pedestrian avenues festooned with holo-ads and street stalls, and the crowd began to thin, she thought she caught a glimpse of the shag again.
Avie rounded a corner and another one to see if the person was really following her.
There!
She spotted the shag again. It was him! Well— or her. Avie wasn't sure if the person who seemed to be stalking her was a man or a woman. They were tall, wore conservative slacks and button ups, and glasses. But their face could have been either the face of an effeminate man or a handsome woman.
"Hey, who the fuck do you think you are!" yelled Avie at the person who was definitely following her.
They startled and started to turn away but Avie was too fast approaching them, and grabbed the sleeve of their yellow collared shirt before they could make a break for it.
The person froze and turned around to face Avie with both hands raised in a gesture of reconciliation. They seemed nervous about the confrontation.
Now that Avie had a good look at this person, there was something oddly familiar about their energy?
"Who the hell are you and why have you been following me for the last month," said Avie quietly, with threat in her voice.
The person fidgeted and hummed as they answered, " ah— well you see— I'm a umm— scientist and I work for the government."
"The fuck does the government want with me?" said Avie.
The person pulled out their cell and started scrolling through information on their screen that Avie couldn't see.
"You're in Mitras for a job interview, right? Hmm— but it seems like you just called to reschedule. Probably not a lot of chance you're going to be getting the job you're interviewing for then," they said.
"Well, how about this, I'm here to offer you a job!"
Avie just stared at the messy scientist with incredulity.
"My name is Hans Zoë," said the person standing before her, "he/they."
Hans presented his right hand to shake and Avie took it.
"Um, Avie Ackerman,— she/her, I guess," said Avie.
Hans. The messy scientist had a name and it was Hans. Which was nice. Somehow.
Avie was aware that giving pronouns was an expected part of social niceties in Mitras 985, but she had never much understood how other people were so sure of those matters to have such a preference for any particular set. She never did, so she just went with what was practical. She was too short, too pretty, for anyone to mistake her for a man.
Hans eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, he was amused with her uncertain introduction. They abruptly thrust themselves forward, and bent so that their faces were level and far too close. Their intense gaze was unsettling.
"Huh, interesting," said Hans. Before Avie could deflect, he put his hand up to her cheek and brushed what felt like warm moisture off with the tip of his finger.
Avie put her own hands up to feel two rivulets of tears streaming from her eyes. She was— crying.
But why?
Hans pulled out a notebook form somewhere and started jotting down notes. They were mumbling to themselves and saying things like, "curious", and "involuntary somatic reaction."
"Hey! Four-eyes! What the hell do you think you're doing! I'm a human not your test subject!" Avie shouted. That type of shit made her angry.
Hans stopped jotting in the notebook and hid it away in a hidden pocket about his person.
"My apologies," said Hans who at least had the decency to look humbled, "But I think we have a lot to talk about. Can I buy you a coffee? There's a cafe just a few blocks from here."
Avie sighed, however weird this Hans was, he was right about her not getting the job she was originally meant to interview for. She felt she could trust them enough to sit at a cafe and drink coffee with them, at lest.
"Sure Hans," said Avie," Lead the way."
The cafe was a bright, airy spot, decorated with green plants in round bio-chambers on the ground floor of a small, residential apartment and most of the customers seemed to be regulars from the housing about the cafe.
Hans ordered a black coffee for himself and added way too much sugar to it at the coffee bar. Avie ordered an earl gray latte for herself. True to their word, Hans pulled out a sleek, unmarked credit chip and paid for both of their drinks.
When they were seated at a small table, Hans got right down to explanations.
"So," said Hans, "let me tell you a little about my research and then maybe that will help explain why I'm here talking to you. I'm a geneticist, and I work for the world government." They showed Avie their universal ID screen and the information there did appear to fit with what they were claiming.
"My current area of research is special Eldian bloodlines," they continued.
Avie rolled her eyes. "You're following me around because I'm an Ackerman right?"
At least the latte was good.
"Precisely, umm— I guess I can say that I'm currently working on the T.I.T.A.N. program, and well— the reason why we're so interested in you is because you're a direct descendant of one of the great Heroes of Paradis. Actually, most of us in the T.I.T.A.N. program have family ties to the old regime in some way, but that probably had more to do with nepotism than any special genetic traits," said Hans and then he exploded into a mirthful chuckle that was only slightly mad.
"So, listen, I'm an Ackerman, sure," said Avie, "but so are my sisters, and my mother, and there are several aunts and uncles, and some of them even work for the government already. Why don't you ask one of them?"
"Ah well— it's not quite that simple really, see. We've been profiling you and— not just any Ackerman will do. It has to be you," said Hans.
Avie scowled at them. They were staring back and making big, excited puppy dog eyes that pulled Avie in a way that made her want to hit them. But Avie didn't do that type of thing. She had taken a vow of non-violence at her community sangha last year. She would never strike someone, even if out of sheer annoyance.
"I'm sorry," said Avie, "but I fundamentally disagree with what the world government stands for and how they believe in suppression the fundamental freedoms of the population and using state sanctioned violence to maintain a false sens of social order. I will never work for the government."
Hans didn't skip a beat. He pulled a card out of another hidden pocket. The card was a real printed piece of paper, not a virtual card, which was an archaic sort of way to transmit personal information. He laid it on the table between them.
Hans said in a solemn tone,"Be that as it may, I would still like to invite you to meet our boss at headquarters, and if you need anything,— anything at all— don't hesitate to reach out."
Then, without giving Avie a chance to respond, Hans finished the rest of his coffee and stood. He had said his piece, Avie supposed.
"It was nice meeting you Avie," they said. They gave an odd sort of salute with their clenched fist on the center of their chest, and left the cafe.
Avie was alone.
For whatever reason, she wanted to reach out and call for this mysterious Hans Zoë to come back, to keep talking to her, but she suppressed that urge.
Instead, Avie picked up the paper card on the table in front of her and read the inscription. It read:
Hans Zoë
Lead Genetic Researcher
33-5-238845-09
Huh, that was weird for a phone number.
Avie pocketed the card and finished her latte. Then she made the walk back to Mitras station. Even if her trip had amounted to nothing, it was certainly a story she could share with her viewers. They always loved the odd personal anecdote.
Avie boarded the monorail train and found herself a seat for the long ride. The traffic going out Mitras wasn't as bad and the traffic going in, which was a small consolation.
Avie chatted with Onya on her cell.
O: You're seriously telling me that guy was FROM THE GOVERNMENT!
A: Yep, that's what they said, super weird right?
O: haha it's cause you are a freak and they want to study your freaky ways.
A: If I'm a freak than you're an even bigger freak, that's why I like hanging out with you :P
Avie hit send on the last message but an error message popped up with a big read X on it which indicated that the message didn't go through.
Avie looked up from her cell to see that the train's info-screens were flashing an alarming emergency message.
WARNING, TRAIN STOPPING
and
PLEASE REMAIN SEATED AND BRACE FOR RAPID DECELERATION.
The lights on the train flickered and Avie grabbed the handrails to her sides and the tain jolted and screeched.
"Fuck!" Avie yelled.
But her alarmed outburst came in good company. Other passengers were screaming and yelling invectives just as she did. Her cell leapt from her hands and skittered somewhere among the passenger seats.
The monorail train screeched to a halt.
Avie looked out the window, blanking the shade so she could see what what outside.
The monorail train was halted on a raised track. All around them, as far as she could see, stretched the wastes.