Is Something Burning?

“Damn,” Ignacio said.

Celeste leaned her head backward. “If they interview someone from Specterveil and get cut off, you owe me a lunchkit.”

Ignacio shook his head with a smile. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”

“We’ll now take you to a live interview with the Specterveil team as they leave their quarters in Grandyne,” the holographic Carlos said. “The team has just undergone a final analysis for Etherpsychosis and were found clear of all symptoms. Let’s hope it stays that way till tomorrow.”

The live audience laughed at that for some reason.

The scene switched to a rendition of the news channel’s logo—a bull with a pair of old-fashioned headphones through its nose instead of a ring—and the screen flashed to a live feed of the Specterveil team walking down a flight of stairs from a massive skyscraper.

Reporters swarmed them, three of the four members climbing into a giant hover-car while the fourth turned to the camera with a deadpan expression.

“I’ll take a few questions,” the man said, a flash of daylight sliding across his sleek silver glasses.

A small drone-mic drifted into frame, hovering in the air below his sharp chin.

“Oh, he is so cool,” Celeste said, resting her chin on her fist. “He’s so quiet and… mysterious.”

Ignacio rolled his eyes.

“Dario,” the interviewer asked, “this must be a huge moment for the Specterveil Psyonic crew. Can you tell us what it was like being in the Ethergeist for so many days in a row?”

The man tilted his head to the side, his neatly trimmed black hair swaying. “It was hell.”

The interviewer paused as Dario stared into the camera. Ignacio winced. How could they be so thoughtless? He’d always wanted to go into the Ethergeist, but even he knew the dangers involved. He couldn’t imagine going in every day for a month.

“Of course,” the interviewer said, “um… how long did it take you to capture the Psywyrm?”

“Why don’t you start by asking how many Psyonics did you lose?” Dario said, sky-blue eyes narrowing with anger.

The interviewer went quiet again, then stammered a few words before one formed.

“Of course, it- it must have been difficult for you to, uh, lose three-”

Dario cleared his throat. “Four,” he said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Four, sorry. Four members of your crew during this mission. Do you believe the advancements that will be made in pursuit of pushing the limits of human cognition and perception will be worth the cost in the end?”

Dario sighed. “I hope so.”

Another pause. Ignacio placed his hand over his face.

“This is painful,” he said.

“Shh,” Celeste said, waving a hand.

“Final question,” the interviewer said, “a lot of people out there are speculating whether or not this could be the final step, or at least the next step in training someone to be the first Nexus. What are your thoughts on that?”

“What do I think of a concept made up by the executive of Cypher Corp to so obviously sell more tech?”

The interviewer laughed. But Dario didn’t. He just stared into the camera, his eyes emotionless.

“What are your thoughts on the rival Psyonics?” another interviewer piped up. “Genesys has been making comments about the length of the mission, what would your response be?”

Dario frowned. “If they think they can do better, they can try it themselves.”

The first interviewer pushed a little closer to Dario, the camera moving with them.

“Dario, now that this mission is done, what do you think comes next for Specterveil?”

Dario sighed, pushing the drone-mic away. “I think ending this interview would be a good place to start.”

The last line came out soft, and Dario climbed into the hover-car with the rest of his team, the door slamming shut behind him automatically.

“Hah!” Celeste said, throwing her fists up as she turned to him. “You owe me a lunchkit.”

Ignacio covered his mouth. “That was that, huh?”

Celeste sighed, her fists dropping as she turned back to the hologram. “I was hoping for more information than that. Oh, well.”

The holo-screen flashed the logo again, cutting to the anchor as he chuckled.

“We’ll be right back after this special offer from Cypher Corp,” the anchor said.

“Ugh,” Celeste said. “Ads.”

Ignacio sniffed as the scent of smoke reached his nostrils.

“Is something burning?”

Celeste jumped up. “Oh snap,” she yelled, running to the kitchen.

He shook his head, stomach growling again. Looked like he would have to go to bed hungry again.

“Damnit,” Celeste shouted from the kitchen. “I was trying to warm up the food for you. Sorry, Ace.”

Ignacio sighed, but couldn’t hold back his smile. She tried. That was more than he could say about most people out there.

His eyes settled on a table in the corner of the room. At its centre stood a synthetic, heart-shaped cactus. Beside it, a round frame holding a picture of him and Celeste with their mother. They’d wanted a real cactus, a real wooden picture frame. But just those cost more than six-month’s rent.

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking down the passage toward the bathroom. “I ate on the way back home.”

Which might not have been a lie. He couldn’t remember a thing up until the point he walked up to their apartment block.

“Cypher Corp’s latest innovation, the medi-drone,” the holo-screen said. “Now, with a tier three medi-care subscription and higher, you and your loved ones will have twenty-four hour access to medi-drone assistance in the most desperate of times.”

Ignacio shook his head, walking away. Being a nurse had its downsides. But it beat the hell out of working for Cypher Corp, like ninety percent of the population did. Though he was pretty sure Doctor Ivo would be following soon.

He stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, unzipping his boots and pulling them off.

Nothing felt better than the cold tiles against his bare feet after a long day of running up and down. Not that he could remember running up and down that day. But they hurt like any other day of the week so he must have done something of the sort.

He walked over to the sink, the water running as he placed his hands under the faucet. He splashed the cool liquid on his face, dragging his skin with his finger tips as he looked up at the mirror.

Black hair high and sharp, his collar up, his black overalls still zipped up to his throat. He stared at his brown eyes, frowning.

Think, Ace, he told himself, lowering his head as he leaned both hands against the sink.

What on earth had he done at work? Had he even been at work? The last thing he remembered was going to bed the previous night.

Just forget about it, he thought, chuckling at himself. Forget about forgetting.

He leaned over, sticking his mouth under the faucet and gulped the water. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished. At least now she wouldn’t be able to hear his stomach growl.

He walked out the bathroom to his bedroom door, coughing as he pushed it open.

“Light,” he said, and the room flickered with a warm glow coming from the single light-orb hanging from the ceiling.

His room was empty aside from the single bed in one corner and the table and chair in the other. His visors lay folded on the table before a row of medical books. Pretty much everything had been digitized and accessed through the neuronet, but they were his father’s old books.

The reason he worked at doctor Ivo’s clinic. The reason they weren’t out on the streets, yet. He ran his fingertips across their tops as he sighed.

His visors lit up as a call connected, a soft ringtone coming from it. He lifted them, flicking the handles open and placing them over his eyes.

The call connected, showing a young man about his age sitting on air across the room.

“Ah, there you are,” Thiago said, leaning back on nothing with outstretched arms. “How are you doin,’ Ace? Good day?”

Ignacio shrugged. “I don’t know. You?”

“I’ve had better,” Thiago said, stretching his arms.

He wore a sleep-suit, the black, polymer-based fabric clinging to his wiry frame. He crossed his ankle over his knee, foot shaking as it did when he was excited about something.

“You see the news?” Thiago asked.

“About the Specterveil project? Yeah I saw it,” Ignacio said. “What does your dad think?”

Thiago rolled his eyes. “You know him. He said that there’s a Psyonic crew he’s funding to try and capture a Psywyrm alive to study it. All in all, he thinks the whole “next phase of cognitive evolution” thing is a bit far-fetched.”

Ignacio sat on his bed, the projection of Thiago now snapping to the chair in the other corner of the room as if he were sitting at the desk in person.

“I can see your dad saying that,” Ignacio said, folding his arms. “I think it’s more of an exaggeration, you know? Science people always like telling us they have the keys to the future when they haven’t even found the door yet.”

“Hah, that’s what I’m thinking as well,” Thiago shrugged. “But oh well, guess we’re gonna find out.”