I turned my music down as my surroundings grew louder. Joyful pop replaced my melancholic synths. I kept my head down while walking through the film district, not wanting to distract myself with the advertisements for the latest tenth or eleventh edition of some formulaic action movie. Anything with a predictable plot and the latest actor idol was beyond my… zeg, I sounded pretentious even to myself. My taste in mind shows was unique, but it was nothing to the selection of foreign shows that Ali had shown me.


    Was he going to hate me when we saw each other again? If his people had destroyed mine, I would be furious, regardless of who he was. I left my old home behind because of their actions. That was enough, right?


    Maybe talking about my past would clarify my position. I had no secrets, rather only memories that pained me to revisit.


    I knew I had found the place when all the holos and ads shined with violet and indigo; colors beyond my worth for the sake of bringing me to contribute to their entertainment empire. I wonder what life would have been like back when entertainment was a mere corporation and not part of the government. Society fed actors enough attention, given to be idols so much that we made them into the powers that ruled us. Entertainment hadn’t held the presidency since the time before the SocStans, and now Pharma, but they were never far from influence.


    Some holo-projections cast blue images of classic bands, still holding on to the strings and horns of the past. I enjoyed jazz and orchestral music from time to time, but electronic waves had a deeper hold on me. Synths were nice, I thought as I passed the row of masked DJs, but they were nothing compared to the Finian music that held our generation.


    How the dolphin cyborgs had worked their way up to swimming in violet wealth was astounding and unbelievable until one heard the music their kind produced. Though they still relied on humans to stand as the musicians, the Finian production was unmistakable. Finians were never the performers. Their impact was more influential in the music''s creation.


    Indigo and dark blue shone around me as I walked further into the projected concerts and dancing holos of Finian pop. The sonorous voices and electronic beats went beyond my imagination to paint pictures in my vision as if I was hallucinating. Maybe that was the secret to their ethereal music magic. I never tried the puffer fish toxins the Finians loved to get high on–hearing that it was even more destructive to the human body than it was to theirs–yet I continued to use fixes to my pleasure.


    I wanted a fix. Alone because of my tendencies towards isolation, I needed the warmth of a socitab. As I walked, the need diminished as the hypnotic voice of the most famous pop idol in the Republic of Capital soothed me.


    I stopped before a stage upon which a holo concert was projected. The star was bigger than her actual size, large enough for all to feast their eyes upon. Rather than the company spending their full violet light, they added a stylistic visibility, bleeding rich violet with the worthless red and yellow lights for a bright pink that reflected off of the faces of each spectator.


    The Neon Idol walked across the stage, singing one of her more intimate pieces rather than the power anthems that earned the devotion of every youth who would spend all their light just to see her in person.


    I almost thought she stopped to look at me, thin legs crossed atop blue platform heels. Blending light was a common trick, one made much easier since light became physical. Our money, ammunition, and the world''s power all came from the spectrum of light.


    She leaned down with her head sideways, chin-length teal hair floating down to expose small blue earrings on her pink ears. Multi-colored strands of hair framed her face, but left the sleek eyes to bask in. Her short skirt and sleeveless top shined in bright pink.


    Her eyes caught mine.


    Naoma.


    My heart shuddered. It was just a projection of a pre-recorded performance, but I felt the light violet of her eyes pierce my cynical glare. Her projected eyeliner was blue with white eyelash accents, just like the pink that made her. Violet fingernails of a vibrant holopaint, likely the same light paint she actually paid to wear, danced near her pink holopaint lips.


    Light was power. Why not adorn yourself with it to show how wealthy you were? With such extravagant style, would the wealthy eventually identify as the colors they live in?


    I turned away from her lustful lyrics, rejecting the allure she used to prime the youth for the adult products and entertainment her parent-company would sell. Mind shows, music, virtual reality, it didn’t matter. Throughout human existence, sex always sold. If a company could hone into a human''s hunger, they made them into an animalistic consumer.


    I was no better, reaching for my fix. I told myself to resist it out of principle. Had the Finian music not been so distracting, I would have failed.


    I walked away to let my mind destimulate itself with something simpler. Perhaps some jazz would help calm my demons of addiction.


    The Finian music was still plenty loud as I left Naoma’s performance. The mind-projected images of pulsing magenta and pink followed me. Faces of reluctant lovers floated in my vision until they kissed with utmost passion before dissolving like mist in the wind.


    Naoma’s lyrics followed me, banishing any other thought until a deeper addiction kicked in. Unheeded fix addictions were but an itch compared to the hunger that seized me. It hadn’t been too long since I last fed, but that hadn''t been enough. I burned more energy touching the evolved senses that came with my curse. Deleon’s gift granted power with a vile cost.


    My eyes widened and my chest pounded. Each breath was loud and shaky.


    I was in the middle of Zingang with countless civilians walking around me. Many were focused on their neurospaces, but I was still open to their attention.


    I needed to eat teeth.


    I held onto the wall of the alley as stars danced across my blackening vision. Zegging idiot, why did you have to leave the others to live out your melodrama? If I passed out, no one would be able to help me. I had never let it happen before, but Tevon said that doing so would turn us into rabid predators with a loss of control until we satiated the hunger. We had no reason to believe him, but even less reason to test his theory.


    Laughter ahead told me to veer right when the opportunity arose.


    I had to feed.


    It had to be a living victim. Living teeth were pure. Dead teeth could satisfy the craving for a second, but living teeth were needed to power our Bites in full.


    If anyone saw me, I prayed it would only be my victim.


    I stopped for a moment and let myself free from leaning on the wall. My vision was clear, but weak.


    Even though the blue district was affluent enough, those from the yellow, even orange, district still found themselves lost in the blue heart of Zingang. One had to make enough blue light to pay for life. Some people, like Deleon, chose to earn that light in less ethical ways. When fixes are too expensive for an orange dweller, blossom would do. It was simple to make with the right tech. Cannabis and methamphetamine were common enough in the yellow districts and were even worse for addicts when made into the blossoms that were the drug. If you weren’t caught, you could make a living in the blue just by selling to visitors from the lower districts that couldn’t afford to pay.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    These thoughts hung in my mind as the smoke of the blossom lured me to the right. I never sunk so low to use it and hated the smell, but it was sure to leave someone inebriated. Vulnerable. Even if a blossom smoking vagabond had companions, they would all be zegged out of their minds.


    I turned right, drawing farther from the light of the city, as if Zingang ignored the dark underworkings within its cracks. The sky to the east looked more teal than blue. The Green district was close in spirit, yet it was a fairly distant ride.


    The alleyway was littered with broken bottles, a variety of upload chips with who-knows-what varieties of fixes that fell all along the spectrum of legality. Countless blossom buds and ashes filled the cracks and corners with a lingering stench to match.


    Continuing down the alley, I couldn''t find anyone hiding behind a dumpster to sleep and did not want to risk the group talking a few alleys behind me. Cursing myself for the horrid aftertaste that would follow, I turned left towards the lingering stench of freshly lit blossom.


    Dead eyes turned towards me, though the bum''s gaze never landed. His disheveled hair fell to his shoulders onto a torn jacket with some Pharma company logo. While healthcare couldn''t save him from his addiction, he continued to advertise their brand as a sign of societal failure. A silver arm powered by lines of yellow light held what remained of a burning cigarette with another fresh one between the next two fingers.


    He took a pull on his cigarette, coughing with a metallic scraping as he scratched a metal neck. While the glowing neck implants were likely the only thing keeping him alive, techbone would take the rest of him eventually, now that cancer was no longer a threat to society.


    The human body was not meant to be upgraded by artificial means. Pride, greed, and convenience argued otherwise. How long could humanity go? Who was I to speak? I was as much a part of the problem as everyone else.


    I glanced around, my patience expiring like a weak bladder.


    “Wahyu wanna from me?” Drool fell as the bum spoke.


    He’s a victim, just like you. He doesn’t deserve this.


    No one does. I could never allow sympathy to reach my shrinking soul. I thought about starving myself when the hunger first began, but Deleon had a promise to fulfill. Others would suffer, but I would uphold my side of the deal by living through until the bitter end.


    He held out an unlit blossom cigarette with fingers stained yellow. “Light?”


    I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to light it, if he was offering it, or merely asking for some spare light to spend to get him through to his next pack of smokes.


    I crouched before him and held his head between my hands. Even looking into his eyes I found no present soul.. I could consider this a mercy, but that was just another excuse. I knew what I was doing, hated it, and yet continued.


    Using the speed modification “gifted” to me by Deleon for my hypothalamic implant, I pulsed my hands with a violent vibration. The man’s eyes drifted further apart and pink ooze drained from his nose after a few seconds. Turning someone’s brain to mush was unpleasant, but better than the alternative.


    I reached my hand inside his mouth, pleased to find that most of his teeth remained and pulled my hands apart with a speed-enhanced jolt. His mandible popped as I broke his jaw and ripped teeth from pale gums.


    I tossed out the few metal replacements he had—five in total—then began with the incisors. I wanted the heartiness of the molars, but had spare resolve left to keep them until the end.


    Energy shot through my spine, pulsing out to each limb with restorative strength. Breathing was easier. Clouds cleared from my mind. Each thought was birthed from a clear mind compared to the feral addict that I had been moments before.


    Moving past the frontmost teeth, I relished the pleasure that was the molars. Each bite was greater than the juiciest and most tender meat, though its texture argued otherwise.


    I wanted to run across the entire Republic of Capital, swim across the oceans, fly above the layers of pollution.


    Teeth were greater than any drug one could create. They became my idol, my very life. My hunger was satiated to keep me mentally and physically stable, though it would return to me most unwelcome.


    As blood pooled and drained from his broken mouth, I became aware of his blood that coated my mouth and hands. I leaned down to wipe it away with the edge of his holey shirt, not bothered by the mix of body odor and brush smoke that filled my enhanced sense of smell.


    Staring down, the man had become to me like discarded fishbones. It had not been a rich feast, as it would have been with a healthy indigo citizen. This man was the equivalent of microwaved fish. His teeth were worn and unkept. It was a poor meal but quenched the hunger.


    Ready to leave, I turned and found myself caught by the stare of a man and woman in violet suits, their eyes hidden behind an implant or covering. I could not tell. I could not think straight. They had seen me feast. They knew what I was. I had no reason to hide.


    I ran up the wall and jumped to the other before I could slip. My speed modification burned the few teeth I had eaten. I would have to eat soon but now was not the time to reserve what I had.


    They walked towards me, not rushing as I did.


    Deleon was going to zegging kill me.


    I prayed to the lights that he wouldn''t dig into my neurospace memories. There would be no reason for him to unless I returned with warranted suspicion.


    Hands firm enough to dent the edge of the metal roof, I hauled myself atop the building and ran. If the violet-suited pair was following me, I had other matters to worry about than merely being seen.


    I hopped along the uneven rooftops of the light blue residential district. The bright neon of the blue center shined to my right and subtle green colored the horizon to my left.


    There was no reason for violet-wearing elites to be strolling through the poorest parts of Zingang. Had I been followed? Did my feeding solidify the evidence of some investigation?


    I tried to calm my anxiety, but it was difficult not to be paranoid in my circumstances.


    I approached the edge of the district. I slowed as I landed on a rooftop with a high wall around the edges and a closed latch rather than a door for anyone to enter or leave it.


    I rolled as I landed atop it and moved to the wall, sitting in a slouch as I caught my breath.


    Zegging shac, you''re better than this.


    Deleon''s past reprimands replayed in my mind. “Never let your hunger endanger you. If you feel hunger coming on, make sure you make plans to eat in private.”


    Zeg him. What did he know? What did he know about any of this? What was our owner''s goal? Would it be so bad to be caught by some violet elites? Let them experiment on me. It couldn''t be worse than Deleon''s jobs. It would be better for our victims whose vengeful souls increased tenfold daily.


    Such a surrender would nullify Deleon’s promise. I betrayed humanity by serving him, but there were those who needed justice through fulfilling his oath. No matter how much I hated the man, he never broke a deal. Those who broke his, faced his wrath. They faced us.


    I stood, the energy from the teeth kept my mind clear. The few teeth I had eaten from the vagabond helped the hunger pass, but it would soon return.


    A message appeared in my vision, though it was only visible to me. I checked it in my neurospace.


    Deleon: Be careful the next time you eat. We don’t want any unwelcome followers.


    All thoughts of appetite vanished. My heart felt as if it pumped ice through my mutant veins. There were no cameras. Deleon had upgraded our neurospaces to detect them. I never granted Deleon permission to view through my eyes. Even if he bypassed the allowance, I would have known.


    No one had seen me.


    No one except the couple in violet suits.


    No one working for Deleon’s Osteolyte was a violet resident. His whole plan was to climb the societal ladder to reach that point.


    Who the zeg are you, Deleon? What do you actually want?