“Everything’s going to be fine.”


    Joe leaned against the corner of the subway stairs. Foot traffic, thin as it was at 3pm, wove around him. Like a stick dropped in a stream, he mattered not one bit to the water. He pressed his hands into his back and stretched his chest forward as far as he could, savoring the popping sensation in his spine as he did.


    “Right. Everything. Fine.”


    He rubbed his fingers together, aching for a psych-oil pen or even some orals. Not that either of those would fix anything, but at least he could sleep tonight.


    “Damn Francis and his “unsanctioned expenses.”


    Damn me and my stupid porn habit.


    Joe scratched at the corner of his eye as he continued down the stairs. Despite several whispered conferences, neither he nor Francis had come any closer to hiding the source of their guilt.


    In front of the underground map, Joe paused and considered his destination. Gertrude’s bar let him turn in corp info for drinks. And without any other illegals, he had to use something to quiet his mind, specifically his Segregated Executive Partition, which refused to stop trying to worry out his problems, regardless of how high Joe tried to adjust his apathy.


    Next week I need to see about adjusting it again.


    As he stepped into the train for Gert’s, a woman jumped between the doors as they closed. All he saw of her face was a pert nose and platinum blond hair. She fell into his arms and looked up at him.


    Gorgeous.


    It felt like the universe reaching out and taking pity on him like the fool he was. His vision swam as the woman adjusted herself and pressed her bosom into his chest.


    She whispered,


    “Thank you. Joe.”


    Her turf green eyes narrowed as he turned his head to question her. She preempted his words with her own:


    “Mandelbrotdeclination Gorgonzola Annihilation.”


    Joe blinked at the woman’s words, his mouth frozen as if she had pricked him with a paralytic or gassed him with the same. She pointed her index finger to a wrist display. It showed a woman wearing a modest gray business suit with the shave-around look popular among upper management recently.


    Joe hated that style.


    The woman handed him a slim metal block, about twenty centimeters long and 25mm wide.


    When she finished pointing, the woman disabled her display and fell back into Joe’s chest, sighing as she did. In response, he squeezed her tight and the woman squirmed into him.


    At the next stop, she pulled away from Joe, his arms automatically releasing her as she did.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “Remember now, hurry up and head to Terrence Station. Don’t be late.”


    The woman flicked her eye to the map hanging on the opposite wall of the station.


    If he stayed on his current train, he would find himself where the strange woman wanted him. She waved to him while others boarded the train. Once again, they moved around him as if they could not see him, even though Joe stood in the middle of the door. This time, the beatific expression on his face made them turn away and give him space.


    The woman leaned in as the last of the early commuters found their places aboard the subway.


    “Forget me Joe. Remember nothing but your mission.”


    From the safety of this SEP, Joe should have been able to ignore her. Maybe other people ignored the warnings, but Joe helped update them recently. According to those warnings, what the strange woman did should have been impossible.


    And then like that, as if waking from a day dream, Joe found himself standing on the G-line headed to Terrence Station. He glanced at his wrist display and noted the time. He would need to run.


    Suddenly, he could see his whole route overlaid on his vision in VR. From his current location on the subway to the exact spot where he needed to stand. The cold metal in his hand felt light, but his knuckles turned white as he clutched it. No matter what happened, he had to hang onto this. It was important.


    The moment the doors opened at the intended station, he jumped out. A woman wearing a branded uniform yelled at him as he bowled her and two others over. Heedless of the commotion he caused, no, this had it’s purpose too, Joe ran to where he needed to be standing. He had only minutes left.


    He passed adverts sprayed directly into his AR feed: a companion for the night, the illusion of a family, or an adventure on an exotic planet. All he had to do was buy a subscription and jack in through his VR rig.


    But those were nothing compared to body rocking pleasure of a well-crafted psych-oil pen. And that was nothing compared to the visceral pleasure of advancing his mission.


    Huffing and pressing his palms into his knees, Joe waited. He had gained two minutes on his target. Nothing left to do but wait and hope he managed to succeed. As long as he succeeded, everything would be fine.


    Joe could feel it in his bones. Nothing mattered but this mission. It would clear away the problems with Francis and with Telepersona. This way, Joe would be able to keep his job and his implants.


    When the time came, he felt a remote code injection. Another impossibility for a mere Gamma such as Joe. Like a spider crawling over his hand, a skill wound its way into his mind. Alerts flashed as the code package overwhelmed his available memory. From his SEP, Joe ejected some childhood memories, an aunt he never particularly cared for as well as a cat who peed on the foot of his bed.


    Twenty seconds remaining and Joe spotted the car. A black security sedan with weapon resistant plating and an escort. From his Executive Partition, he panicked. But his body took over the moment his principle appeared.


    “Ms Gartner! Ms Gartner!”


    A guard twice as big as Joe stepped between him and the target.


    Joe said,


    “I work at Telepersona. At the Document Review Division. Do you have a moment for us to setup a skip-level meeting?”


    The guard frowned at Joe, letting his massive pipe-like arms hang loose from his shoulders.


    “Oh let him by, Henry.”


    Ms Gartner looked elegant and well kept, older than the normal partners Joe sought. She smiled as the guard took a half step to the side.


    “What did you say your name was, young man?”


    “I didn’t, sorry. I’m Joe. Again, sorry about this ma’am.”


    Ms Gartner waved her hand at Joe as if she were about to tell him not to apologize. Somewhere in the Segregated Executive Partition in his mind, he felt regret and sadness. All he had to do was stop, but helplessness and desperation overwhelmed him.


    There was no other other way.


    He raised his wrist as if to share a display with Ms Gartner and pressed the small button on the palmed cylinder that he now knew to be the trigger. A wide flash of light burst forth missing his fingers by fractions of a millimeter.


    Neither the guard nor Ms Gartner had a chance to react. Seconds later, most of her head was missing. Blood and viscera spurted from the exposed flesh as her corpse fell to the ground. The guard hit Joe and his body hit the ground before he could turn the weapon on himself.


    It’s okay, Everything’s going to be fine now.


    It was his final thought.