I couldn’t ignore the clock. I enjoyed the ride, but struggled to do so, knowing that we would be thrown back at the mercy of the world when we landed in the Indigo District. The world had been cruel, and I had no hope in its kindness.


    An hour had passed since we told Naoma how we had come to meet her. The story itself was straightforward, but we got caught on a tangent trying to explain what we were even doing for Deleon.


    “So your boss wants to reach the presidency by destroying Techvax and the associated competitors?” she asked.


    “Something like that,” I said. “He sent us out to weaken certain pillars of society, but he seemed most interested in eliminating anyone who wanted to use jelly fiends. When we told him what we found at Firstlight, he kind of freaked out and sent everything to eliminate them. He’s obsessive and impulsive, but I had never seen him so concerned. I assume he knew what we would find and that we were just sent to confirm his suspicions.”


    “He’s confusing like that,” said Boyband.


    “More like illogical,” said Naoma. “I don’t see what jelly fiends have to do with the presidency.”


    I shrugged. “Maybe they are the key to the cure. If someone is on the same course as he is, he’s set on eliminating them.”


    “And why did he want to send you to the SocStans?”


    “He needed every connection to Firstlight out of the way,” I said, “even if only some of the parties have connections. We’ll see if we can find anything. Even if we are not complaining about his assignment, it might be good to know what he is thinking.”


    She looked at Boyband. “But solving your parents’ murder is our main goal, right?”


    “I hope so.”


    “Yes,” I said. “Everything we deal with seems to be connected somehow, but I want to set Deleon aside for some time if we can. He’s always manipulating us, so maybe we’ll discover that he didn’t actually kill the Eclaines and that their deaths are connected to jelly fiend research. I don’t know. I don’t know how big his company actually is. Maybe they are just a piece in a larger puzzle like Reef or Firstlight.”


    “What about his promise, Petya?”


    “What promise?” Naoma asked.


    “Petya is loyal to him because Deleon made him a promise.”


    “I thought you said you just needed money after losing everything?” she asked.


    “Yeah, I did, but…”


    “He always avoids talking about his past. He was some celebrity or politician, something like that, but will never tell me about what really motivates him.”


    “Then why don’t we talk about your past, Boyband?” she grinned.


    “You will soon enough. We’re literally flying to my family farm.”


    “Fair enough.” She looked at me, eyebrows slightly raised to compliment her pitying smile.


    “Oh, come on,” I said.


    “Only if you want to.” She faced ahead.


    “I only avoid talking about it because it pains me. It sounds stupid, I know. I like the Republic, despite what I’ve experienced. It''s corrupted and imperfect, but better than Medislavia. Aside from the feral consumerism, I appreciate the values that formed the Republic. I mean–just don’t take what I see as hate speech. People complain about inequality, the economy, sure there are plenty of problems with the Republic, but the immigration system is atrocious. The Republic used to be a sanctuary for freedom and–zeg–‘living out your dreams,’ but it''s gone against all of that. Deleon promised me to help change that, but to see what I mean, I’ll have to tell you the rest of how I came here.”


    Boyband looked down to hide his grin.


    I recounted everything I had told Boyband about my political motives and social ascendancy. While Naoma and I were both known by most in our respective countries, the politics she campaigned for in her lyrics were more accepted than my anti-Medislavian proclamations.


    “Medislavian control assassinated one of my close friends–a once mentor–and passed it off as an ignominious suicide in prison. I had no choice but to free the country of my birth.”


    “So you did?” Boyband asked.


    I stared at him.


    “Sorry, just trying to stay engaged.”


    “Are you involved in politics, Naoma? I mean, of course you are, but are you familiar with the intricacies of the Arabasia war?”


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “No, and don’t overestimate my political involvement. Most of who or what I was, was a construct of Reef Record’s purposes.”


    “I’d like to get to know your true stance on matters.”


    “Now is the time for your story, not mine.”


    “Right. Well, suffice it to say that the Arabasians are victims, any Medislavian motive other than control or greed is a lie, and so forth. I left my country and found refuge in South America, just beyond the Republic’s border.


    “Knowing that illegal immigration is still a politically charged topic, I made sure to do my research before hoping to walk across the border. I was given a date to cross the border and had the next few years planned out. Plenty of Arabasians had done this process, and I figured we were both refugees from my country’s regime. Why not follow their path? I crossed the border, spent a year in ‘detainment,’ i.e. a prison, and was left to fend on my own in the Republic. When I left my country, I had a year’s worth of salary, plenty of valuables to trade for necessities upon arrival, and a whole backpack of sentimental possessions. When I left the detainment center, I had an out-of-date neurospace that had been deactivated upon crossing the border, a pair of worn sandals, and my tattered jumpsuit. They confiscated everything else, though I am sure the guards never reported finding them as they left their job with months of stolen lumens in their neurospace bank.”


    “Petya,” Naoma began, “I’m–I don''t know what to say.”


    “Sure, everyone praises the refuge and freedom the Republic offers, but it conveniently forgets those with similar circumstances as mine. I’ve met plenty of other Medislavian refugees along the way. The Republic Immigration Control System, RICS, had no problem separating couples, families. I saw them take everyone who spoke sign language away from a deaf refugee. How the zeg is that just?”


    “Zeg, man,” Boyband muttered.


    “They woke us up at four in the morning to feed us, then didn’t give us anything until sundown. I have always been slim, but I lost thirty pounds within my first few weeks. You’ll find this funny, Naoma, based on our particular ‘diet’.” I tapped my teeth. “I used to be a vegetarian. A real health nut, but they would only feed us hyper-processed garbage that even the worst eaters in the Republic would refuse. I’m not talking about the living meat logs they created to generate quick cuts, I mean rats, organ sausages, and printed meat, if we were lucky. I don’t think I saw anything green on my plate the whole time. Sure, I get it, we were never living in luxury, but they couldn’t even bother with printing produce or giving us cheap replications of what one would consider a plant. They gave us plenty of printed bread, though. Cheap and filling, even though cardboard would have been better on the stomach.” I chuckled. “I was so constipated that by the time I left and had my first real meal, I think I shat out another ten pounds.”


    They laughed, but they were reserved.


    “Look, I could complain for hours. Time has passed and I’ve learned to move on, but that doesn’t mean I forgot. What did Deleon promise me? Change. Zeg me if I was too na?ve to believe him, but I think he would actually do something for me if I helped him reach the presidency.”


    Naoma chuckled.


    I remained stern. “I get it. It is laughable. Zeg, everyone wants to be the next Haven Health, but Deleon is the only one who has actually cured techbone.”


    “What do you mean?” she asked.


    “That’s what we are. We joined, or at least I did, for medical testing with a high payout. I was too desperate, starving, and zegged up on socitabs to even think he might give me techbone. What else would anyone worry about curing? Cancer was cured decades ago and Alzheimer’s is a distant memory.” I would have laughed, but no one seemed to get the joke. I couldn’t blame them. I was in the middle of a rage-fueled rant.


    “We joined, he gave us the virus, or whatever it is, and then stopped it with our hypothalamic implants.” I tapped the base of my neck. “Our ‘Bites’ as we call them, keep the bones continually growing beyond techbone’s disintegration, but of course, we have to feed them.


    “Deleon would never use this technology on the public, but if he can make something close enough to a cure, I think he might be the one that can actually do it. Techvax’s vaccine didn’t prove flawless. If Deleon wants to wipe them out and anyone else using the fiends, I think he might pull it off. If he does, and if I’m loyal, then he can help refugees avoid the mistreatment I faced. A corrupt side of me tells me that all the killing I do is worth it if I can change the Republic in just one way for the better.”


    “So, do you want to help him?” Naoma asked.


    “Zeg, I don’t know. Either I stay a prisoner, or he does when we expose him. Maybe I was too na?ve to think he could do anything.”


    “I’ll keep his promise,” Boyband said.


    “You? How?” I asked.


    “The SocStan party may not be the current president, but they still have plenty of power from the last two terms. Zeg Deleon. Let’s prove that he killed my parents and I can guarantee the rest of the SocStan party will side with us in the name of justice for the Eclaines.”


    “It’s a nice thought, kid, but–”


    “Shut the zeg up. And don’t ‘kid’ me. We are going to do this, just like you said. This was your idea. Now, let''s follow through with it. I get it if you doubted yourself and if you still do, but I want more than revenge. I want freedom and I can’t have that with Deleon breathing down my back.”


    I smirked and nodded. “We’ll see what your people have to offer.”


    “It’ll be tough, but just because I was the only survivor, does not mean I don’t have any connections.”


    He pointed at Naoma. “And what about her?”


    “What about me?”


    “How in the light are we going to hide the biggest pop idol in the Republic? Farmland isn’t what it was in the old mindshows set in the twenty-first century. It will look rural, but it is just as connected to the world as everything else.”


    Naoma tapped her temple. The violet glowpaint on her eyelids and nails disappeared. Her hair was the same length, but of a dark brown shade with small light streaks. She no longer looked like she was of Asian descent but was a pale white like me.


    “This won’t be the first time I have to blend in,” she said and tapped her temple, returning to her former fashion. “I figure we’ll all want a change of clothes after the Red District, anyway.”


    “That will work for a bit,” said Boyband, “but the whole world will know you are missing.”


    “Then let’s take care of everything so I can make a reappearance.”


    “Take care of what?” I asked.


    “Gain the SocStan support and eliminate the zeg outta Reef Records, Techvax, and anyone else who wants to enslave me again.”