Yellow Simon

The soft hum of the shield surrounding the city blended into the usual buzz of daily life. Neon leaned against the railing of the observation deck, her eyes tracing the skyline. The light from the shield refracted gently, giving the city a faint, iridescent glow. It was one of her favorite spots to think a place where the chaos below felt a little more distant.

“You’re hard to keep up with, you know,” Mark’s voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his expression as warm as ever.

“Mark,” she said with a small smile. “I thought you’d still be holed up in the workshop.”

“Took a break,” he replied, stepping closer. “Figured I’d find you here.”

Neon shrugged, leaning back against the railing. “It’s peaceful. Helps me clear my head.”

Mark studied her for a moment, then leaned beside her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “You’ve got a lot on your mind lately.”

She nodded. “Don’t we all?”

Meanwhile, Ash and Layla were at Ash’s house, deep into a holo-gaming session. The duo had discovered an experimental cooperative mode in one of their favorite games. It wasn’t long before the living room was transformed into a battlefield, holographic enemies pouring in from all sides.

“Cover me!” Layla yelled, launching a digital grenade toward a group of advancing foes.

“I’m on it!” Ash replied, her avatar diving into action. She maneuvered through the chaos, blasting enemies with pinpoint accuracy. Just as they seemed to gain the upper hand, a surprise boss appeared, towering over them with glowing red eyes.

“You didn’t tell me there was a boss in this level!” Ash exclaimed.

Layla smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The battle was intense, but their teamwork shone through. By the end, they were both laughing and breathless, their avatars victorious amidst the virtual wreckage.

“Not bad,” Ash said. “You might actually be better at this than me.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Might? Please.”

Back at the observation deck, Mark and Neon had fallen into an easy silence. He finally broke it with a suggestion. “Have you ever tried holo-paintball?”

Neon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Can’t say I have. Why?”

Mark grinned. “Because you need a break, and it’s a lot more fun than brooding up here. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Before she could protest, he had her following him to the holo-arena. The place buzzed with energy, neon lights reflecting off the sleek walls. Mark quickly set them up with gear, explaining the basics as they walked onto the field.

The match began, and Neon quickly discovered that Mark was far more competitive than he let on. He darted between obstacles with surprising agility, his laughter echoing every time he managed to tag her. At one point, she managed to outmaneuver him, tagging him from behind. His surprised laugh made her grin triumphantly. By the end, they were both breathless and grinning like kids.

“That,” Neon said, pulling off her visor, “was surprisingly fun.”

“Told you,” Mark replied, his smile widening. “You’re not bad for a first-timer.”

She nudged him playfully. “Don’t get cocky. I’ll beat you next time.”

Later that evening, Neon’s holo-communicator buzzed. It was Luke.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm. “What are you up to?”

“Just finished a match of holo-paintball with Mark,” she replied. “Why?”

Luke chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve had an active day. Feel like keeping it going? I was about to hit the holo-court for some basketball. Thought you might want to join.”

Neon hesitated for a moment but then smiled. “Why not? Send me the coordinates.”

When she arrived, Luke was already on the court, shooting hoops with his usual precision. He handed her a visor, and the game began. Unlike the chaotic fun of paintball, holo-basketball was about strategy and skill. Luke was a natural, but Neon quickly adapted, her competitive streak pushing her to match his intensity. During one particularly close round, she managed to steal the ball and score, earning an impressed grin from Luke.

By the end of the session, they were both laughing, drenched in sweat but exhilarated. “You’re better than I expected,” Luke admitted, tossing her a water bottle.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Neon shot back with a smile. “I can hold my own.”

Luke nodded, I never doubted that.”

The following day, Mark invited Neon to an art gallery in the heart of the city. The venue was a blend of classical and modern styles, with holographic installations alongside traditional paintings. Mark guided her through the exhibits, his passion for art evident in the way he spoke about each piece. Neon found herself drawn to his perspective, seeing the world through his eyes for the first time.

“Art’s a weird kind of freedom,” Mark said, gesturing at the holographic mural as it shimmered like a disco ball with a mind of its own. “You throw your soul into it, and if people hate it, at least you can say, ‘Well, it’s mine.’”

Neon smirked, tilting their head at the mural. “So, it’s like freedom with a side of existential dread? Bold strategy.”

“Exactly,” Mark deadpanned. “And if it really flops, you can always say it’s ‘avant-garde’ and confuse the hell out of them.”

That evening, Mark let the food printer handle dinner while he set the table, sipping on sparkling water. He held the glass up to the light with a wry smile. “You know, my dad used to joke that I’d end up running a bar. I guess he wasn’t wrong except now it’s just me and my sparkling water. Cheers, Dad.”

Neon tilted her head, sensing the bittersweet tone. “You miss him?”

“Yeah,” Mark admitted, his smile faltering. “Mostly when I see Mom trying to act normal. She keeps making his coffee every morning like he’s gonna walk in and drink it. I don’t have the heart to tell her the food printer makes it better anyway.”

Neon winced. “At least she’s coping. I just yell at mirrors for making me look tired, like that’s their fault.”

Mark smiled, glancing at her. “Hey, at least mirrors don’t come with a minibar. I had to fight those things like they were boss battles.”

Neon raised her glass of wine. “To surviving mirrors and minibars.”

Mark clinked his water glass against hers with a small smile. “I’ll drink to that. Figuratively.”

The next day, Luke invited Neon to test out a new holo-skating feature at the park. The digital rink shimmered under simulated lights, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Luke, ever the athlete, demonstrated flawless moves, guiding Neon as she hesitantly stepped onto the rink.

“Come on,” Luke called, holding out his hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

With a deep breath, Neon took his hand, allowing him to guide her across the rink. Midway through, Neon’s confidence grew, and she began skating on her own, laughing at the occasional wobbles and near-falls.

By the end of the session, they were sitting on the edge of the rink, watching the holograms shift and sparkle. Neon turned to Luke. “You always make things look so easy.”

Luke smirked. “It’s not about ease. It’s about practice and balance.”

That evening, both Mark and Luke reached out to Neon, suggesting plans for the next day. Mark mentioned a cooking class he wanted to try, while Luke proposed another holo-game challenge.

Neon smiled at their enthusiasm but sighed softly. “Sorry, guys. I already have plans tomorrow.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “With who?”

“Simon,” Neon replied casually, her tone revealing nothing.

The silence that followed hung in the air as the name echoed in their minds. Neither Mark nor Luke pressed further, but the unspoken questions lingered.

Who was Simon?

And what did he mean to Neon?