Chapter 9:

We Need to Talk

Red Pretender

Mark stared at the glowing message on his communication chip for the hundredth time that evening:

"We need to talk about your father."

The words hung in his mind like a dark cloud, unsettling and urgent.

He was still recovering from a mild fever, but the thought of his father’s virtual gambling debts and drinking binges overshadowed his discomfort. This has to be about him again, Mark thought bitterly. His mother had been trying to intervene for years, but his father always found a way to spiral back into chaos.
Mark groaned and rolled over in his levitating bed. Earlier that evening, Neon had offered to take care of him starting tomorrow, suggesting they spend time together while he recovered. Though he’d secretly loved the idea, he had rejected her offer. He didn’t want to neglect his mother and family.

She had tried to hide her disappointment, but he could still feel it.

Instead, she went to watch Luke play Ballyball, a high-energy futuristic sport played on a responsive floor designed to amplify jumps and speed. The goal was to shoot a glowing ball into a small holographic target, and Mark knew Luke was one of the best players in their circle. The thought of her cheering for someone else while he lay in bed or deals with his father's stupidity again made him feel worse than the fever.

Reluctantly, he sent a reply to his mother:

"I’ll come by tomorrow."

The next morning, Mark’s aerial transport docked outside his mother’s apartment. The building’s automated greeting system projected soothing holographic welcomes in soft tones as he approached.
Mark stepped off the platform, his slight nausea from the flight amplified by his anxiety. The gentle hum of the city’s shield grid was the only sound as he approached the apartment’s entrance.

His mother’s door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing her standing there, a worried look etched across her face. She was still in her robe, her hair tied back hastily.

"Mark, you didn’t have to rush over. You still look pale," she said, ushering him inside.

"I’m fine,"Mark replied curtly, brushing past her. "What did he do this time?"

His mother’s face faltered. She led him to the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of brewed synth-tea filled the air. The kitchen was a blend of old and new, with her antique ceramic cups sitting beside a sleek food synthesizer. She gestured for him to sit, her movements slow and deliberate.

"This isn’t about his holo gambling," she began carefully. “It’s... it’s something else.”

Mark little bit frustrated asked. "Then what?"

She activated a sleek holographic notepad on the table between them and turned to notifications page with a swipe. A notification from the Health Bureau materialized in mid-air, the glowing text sharp and clinical. Mark’s pulse quickened as he read the words:

"Patient Dean H. : Early-onset Neural Decay Syndrome detected."

He looked up at his mother, his throat dry. "What does this mean?"

Her lips quivered, but she steadied herself. "It means your father’s drinking and his overuse of virtual systems have caught up to him. The doctors say it’s progressing faster than they’ve seen before. If he doesn’t stop..." She trailed off, unable to finish.

Mark sank back in his chair, his chest tightening. His father’s habits had always been destructive; but this this was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Does he know?” Mark finally asked.

His mother nodded. "I told him yesterday. He’s agreed to start treatment, but you know how he is. It’s hard to trust he’ll stick with it. I... I need your help, Mark."

Mark’s hands clenched into fists on the table. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him like an invisible force. He wasn’t ready to deal with this, not when his own life felt like it was still falling into place. But as he looked at his mother’s pleading eyes, he knew he couldn’t walk away from it either.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I’ll see what I can do."

His mother’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you. He’s at the clinic now, I’ll send you the address."

Mark nodded, standing up. His fever forgotten, he steeled himself for the difficult road ahead. Family had always been complicated, but maybe, just maybe this was their chance to start fixing what had long been broken.

Neon stood in the buzzing arena, her eyes glued to the game of Ballyball. The players darted across the floor at amazing speeds, their jumps aided by the enhanced flooring that sent them soaring into the air. Luke moved like a force of nature, his every leap and maneuver precise and electrifying. He caught the glowing ball mid-air, spun, and hurled it into the shimmering holo target with flawless accuracy. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Neon couldn’t help but be impressed.

She muttered to herself, "It’s official gravity has given up on this guy." Then, as an afterthought: "And probably charged him rent for ignoring it."

As the game progressed, Luke’s gaze occasionally found hers in the stands. His confident smile and unyielding energy made her chest tighten in a way she hadn’t expected. She clapped and cheered with the rest of the crowd, but her thoughts wandered.

Mark and Luke both so different yet captivating in their own ways. Mark taken her to a digital flower field he had designed himself, an intimate and breathtaking memory that still lingered in her mind.

They had hit it off, spending time together exploring digital parks, coffee shops, and even avant-garde virtual galleries. Mark was thoughtful, creative, and enigmatic, but his tendency to pull away sometimes left her questioning where she stood with him. Luke, on the other hand, was open, vibrant, and magnetic, always wearing his heart on his sleeve.

As Luke landed another impossible shot and looked back at her with a triumphant smile, Neon felt a subtle shift in her feelings. Maybe it was the thrill of the game or the way he made her feel seen, but for the first time, she wondered if her heart was starting to lean in his direction.

The final buzzer echoed, and the crowd erupted as Luke made his way off the court. Neon leaned against the wall, trying to shake off the nagging feeling that had settled in her chest. She had been thinking about Mark a lot lately his distance, his quiet moods but there was something about Luke’s presence now that felt different.

She watched him as he walked past, his eyes met hers for just a second before he looked away. The brief glance left her heart racing, something unspoken lingering between them. Neon opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat as Luke quickened his pace, disappearing down the hallway.

Was it just her imagination, or had there been more in that glance than she was willing to admit? And why did it suddenly feel like everything with Mark was slipping through her fingers?