“Did you hear what I said, Ms. Kawamune?”

I shake myself from my reverie and look up at the suit in front of me. “Yes, yes. You’re letting me go.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I understand that you have been with us for a number of years now, unfortunately this decision is out of my hands.”

“No, I understand,” I reply.

He holds out his hand toward me and for a moment I think he’s offering sympathy, then I realise he’s asking my ID chip. I finger the nape of my neck until I find the port and trigger the switch. Its warm as a drop it into his waiting palm.

I don’t remember leaving the building, I’m on autopilot until I’m out the front door. It doesn’t really hit me until I’m on the Loop, the rhythmic flashing of lights and hum of the ēterumotor triggers something and I begin crying. No, not crying, sobbing. A full breakdown. The man sitting next to me moves away, but I barely notice. When I hear the announcement for my stop, I look up to find someone has left some tissues beside me.

I think about Aeko as we slide to a gentle stop and the automated voice tells me to mind my step. How am I gonna tell her?

As I step onto the station, I throw the soaked wad into a bin. It nearly blows away as the Loop wooshes out of the station, leaving a tesselating trail of detritus floating behind it. I scurry down the platform, not wanting to breath it in. Shit stinks.

The neon buzz of Machida Street tries to distract me from my depression, but I have a head start; years of avoiding hypervisual advertisements. I keep my head down as an ēteruholo image of man invites me into a restaurant and another assures me that they serve only the finest atsusake. I slip down an alleyway, the sounds and lights fading behind me. A momentary reprieve. I intend to extend it.

“Good evening Suko,” I hear as I duck under a curtain.

I nod. “Hama. Something hard,” I say, wasting no time on pleasantries. “And cold,” I add, as I perch on a stool at the bar. Hama nods. Professional as ever.

“Hard drink for a hard day,” he says as he places a glass in front of me. Black liquid on ice. Kurozake. It stings my throat as I slam the glass back on the counter. Hama is already refilling it when I open my eyes. Earning his tip.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I shake my head, staring down at the black lines dripping down my glass. A black hole, nothingness inside. I throw it back, hoping it will devour me from the inside.

“I got fired,” I say as Hama pours me another.

He nods and meets my eyes. There is sympathy in them, too much for me. I look away. He clears his throat, as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. I think maybe he doesn’t know what to say to me. I don’t blame him. I don’t know what to say either. Not to myself, and definitely not to Aeko. She’ll be home from the academy by now, already heating something in the microrange. Lamen, probably. Her favourite.

I throw back a dozen more glasses before Hama cuts me off.

“No more, Suko. I’m sorry. I’ll buzz a cab.”

“No. No cab. I can walk.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure,” I say as a stagger to the door. As I walk through the curtain, I call over my shoulder, “Thanks for the drinks.”

It’s past midnight by the time I stumble up the tower steps and thumb the elevator button. I mash it until it buzzes and the grille slides open halfway. It takes a good thump for it to open enough for me to climb in. My leg starts to shake as the elevator grinds skyward, providing a picturesque view of the concrete tower courtyard. A rainbow whirlwind of garbage circles in the centre. Glorious. It quivers and fades as my vision blurs.

My other leg starts shaking too. Shit. How much did I drink? As the elevator clunks loudly, announcing its arrival and then buzzes for good measure, I can barely stand. I hit the grille as it starts to open, thankfully it slides all the way open.

Vision blurred, legs barely obeying me, I stagger for my apartment door. Just a bit further. Just round the mezzanine. I lean against the wall, breathing heavily. Breath short. Feels like I’m choking. I’m gonna die. Pain starts shooting through my legs and my arms start shaking too. I push off the wall. Stagger a dozen paces and catch myself on the wall again.

I’m only a few steps from the door now. I half throw myself towards it. Feeling the cold metal of the door on my cheek as I fumble for the bioreader. I find it, press my fingers into it and feel the door slide open. The pain shoots up my arms, into my chest, my head. It’s so overwhelming I barely feel the floor as my face smashes into it. My vision shakes and then fades to black.

I hear Aeko scream, muffled, like I’m being held underwater.

Then I’m lost in nothingness.

  •  Zagaroth   ( @Zagaroth@beehaw.org ) 
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    1 year ago

    Hmm, trying to decide if she’s having an unusually strong adverse reaction to the drink, a coincidental event in time with a resurgence of magic (you did say it was magipunk, so I assume this means Shadowrun style and the writing fits right into that), or the start of an Isekai from a cyberpunk world into a magical one. :)

    I will say I tend to prefer third-person narration while following a particular point of view closely over first-person, but it’s not a make-or-break value.

    • Thanks for taking the time to read and comment! I’m glad I’ve intrigued you as to what’s happening to Suko.

      I also usually write in third-person past-tense, but I wanted to try something different for this story and decided on first-person present-tense.

      If you’re interested in reading a couple of chapters, I can PM you a preview. I’d love some more feedback on them.