Chapter Thirty-Nine – I Want to Lick Your Eyeball

Chapter Thirty-Nine – I Want to Lick Your Eyeball

“Do not, under any circumstance, lick someone’s eyeball.

We do not endorse any eyeball-licking memes.”

–PSA from the Ophthalmologists Association of USTwo, 2041

***

I found Rac all geared up and waiting for me by the entrance. She was in her skin-tight armoured suit, but with a loose t-shirt and shorts atop it, as well as a beaten up old denim jacket. “I’m digging the mixed material look,” I said.

“The what?” she asked.

“You know, fancy high tech undersuit, low tech grunge over it?” I asked.

Rac gave me a look, as if she was questioning my sanity which… alright, fair. Rac was one of those few who grew up in a situation shittier than my own, she deserved a break. “Do you mind if I come with you again? Or would you rather I stay here to work?”

“You mean with the printer?” I asked.

She nodded. “I loaded it this morning, and brought some prosthetics down to the clinic already. Miss See-Three took those I made this morning and the batch from last night too.”

“You got two batches off since last night?” I asked. I was moderately impressed. “When did you even start?”

“This morning?” she said. “It’s almost noon.”

Oh, right. Some people woke up early. “You’re a morning person, then?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t need much sleep.”

We both stepped into the elevator while I chewed on that. “You know, you’ll never grow big and tall if you don’t get enough sleep, right?”

“Is that why you’re tall? You sleep a lot?”

I poked her in the shoulder. “Rude. But probably not entirely inaccurate, to be honest. I’m an expert at napping.”

The elevator stopped at the parking garage, and we stepped out and towards my bike which was parked nearby. We got on, took off, and soon were zipping across New Montreal heading north again. I was totally ready to bee-line straight to the Big Gun site when I got spooked by Myalis talking in my head.

There are several monitoring systems observing you.

“Oh, shit,” I said. We were just out of the city limits, past the new walls. “Should I start evasive manoeuvres?”

No. There have always been a number of systems that have observed your flight. Most of these related to traffic control, or part of the New Montreal defensive grid–tracking system for the close-in weapons systems mounted on the walls.

“We’re being aimed at?” I asked.

You always have. The tracking systems I’ve noticed now are new, and specifically tuned to notice your bike.

I gave my bike a bit more gas to move along faster. “If anything opens up on us, I want you to buy some decoy grenades, please.”

Understood.

What should have been a nice, calming flight out of the city was a little more white-knuckled than I was used to, but nothing happened. No gunshots, no missiles ramming up my tailpipe, no surprise explosions.

“Can you trace who put those trackers out there?” I asked.

Certainly. I have already, though I’m afraid the trail goes cold rather rapidly. The devices were delivered to a few rooftops via hovercars. The cars are registered by–or have been recently used by–several freelance mercenaries. The devices are all commercial-use trackers with mostly default programming. There are a few avenues I can dig into some more, but most trails have been obscured from the start.

“Damn,” I muttered.

“Is everything okay?” Rac asked from behind me.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I called back. “Someone playing games is all.”

Might I suggest taking a slight detour. You might not want to lead anyone investigating you right to the Big Gun project site.