Chapter Thirty-One – Obsolete Worries

Chapter Thirty-One – Obsolete Worries

“Never question a Samurai about what they might think are personal things.

Remember your three Cs:
Courtesy,
Care,
Common Sense.”

–Part of a training manual for Welcome Inn International staff, 2046

***

It felt a bit strange just walking out of the Hour Men headquarters. We just went up one floor and left out the main entrance. I even waved to the old lady at the nail salon on the way out. There was a squad of Police-Tech enforcers rushing over to the scene, but when they saw us they averted their eyes and rushed to cordon off the area without so much as trying to stop us.

Gomorrah stretched her arms up until her back popped audibly. “That was interesting,” she said.

“It was, I guess,” I said. I shifted a bit to get the grapple pack I was carrying to sit better over my shoulder. “I wasn’t sure we’d get anything out of it, but… yeah. A name and all that.”

“You were told to find the girl by someone, right?” Gomorrah asked.

I nodded. “Deus Ex. It was her job, but she dropped it on my head because she’s a little shit.”

“In that case you should probably inform her of our progress so far. Make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Shouldn’t I call her after we save the girl?” I asked.

Gomorrah shook her head. “No, this way if something goes wrong, you get to share the blame around a bit more. Haven’t you ever had a job before?”

I chuckled. “No. At least, nothing more than doing odds-and-ends. That’s a weird way of looking at things. They teach you that at the covent?”

“It’s a lesson you learn from experience rather than from a book.”

We left the building, took an elevator up a few floors, then continued on our way back to Gomorrah’s car. The area had cleared up of people. Maybe they’d gotten the warning about Samurai mucking about. I certainly would have pissed off if I knew there was a Samurai fight going down. At least, I would have before becoming one.

“You ever find it weird that you’re a Samurai?” I asked.

Gomorrah glanced my way for a bit. “I don’t know? I suppose it is a little strange, but I can’t say I’ve given it that much thought. I just am now.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda rolling with it too. But then sometimes I’ll forget and all those worries I had come back, you know?”

“Worries?”

I reached up to scratch the side of my nose, then remembered my helmet. “Yeah, you know. I have all these kids to take care of. I mean, they’re not mine, but they’re kinda my responsibility? And… I guess I was planning to kind of run away from all that, try to make a life for myself. Didn’t have much going for me though.”

“Uneducated orphans aren’t in high demand?”

I snorted. “Yeah, pretty much. I mean, there are some jobs available for anyone, but they don’t pay all that well. I’d be in debt over my head just trying to get an apartment or something. Could become a joytoy, but that’s not something I’d want to do.”

Gomorrah shook her head. “No, I think I understand. You had all those worries, and now they’re moot.”

“Moot? Uh, yeah, I guess. I have… less than a hundred credits to my name. I couldn’t buy a soda right now. But it’s not a problem anymore. It’s just–I don’t know–weird. Same with the kittens. That’s the brats Lucy and I watch over. They were on a fast track to getting fucked over, but now we just don’t need to worry anymore? Lucy was talking about getting them to school. That’s just so weird.”

The nun patted me on the shoulder. “It’s fine. I think this is probably what people that won the lottery feel like.”

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To be entirely too pedantic, the likelihood of becoming a Samurai isn’t as random-based as the likelihood of winning a lottery. There are characteristics and experiences that make some candidates more likely to become Samurai.

I hummed. “So you’re saying I was chosen for my good looks?”

No. Nor did your awful sense of humour factor into it much.

“You wound me,” I said.