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The Searcher

Uari Orthen wakes up and is certain of who he is: a poor freelancer who sorts through AI-produced music. He knows he is poor, and also average-looking. He knows he has no ambition. He leaves his house one night and he thinks that maybe he was once someone else. His apartment is full of things he should not have - some illegal and many extremely expensive. He has reflexes he should not have from sitting in front of an Interface all day. He knows things automatically and does not remember why or how he knows them. A community lurks in the shadows, beckoning him; a world familiar-but-unfamiliar warns him; a group of people he does not know, but who adore him. Uari Orthen is a high-ranking member of some organisation, and he's had his memories wiped, but why? ************************************************** Additional Novel Details Cover Art by itommyfrank

Carmichael · sci-fi
Zu wenig Bewertungen
40 Chs

Chapter 10 - In the Future, Children are Still Expensive

Plans had changed. What he needed to do now was to grab and go.

First - to calm her down without informing those outside.

He pulled his hand upwards and put a finger over his mouth, heart in his ears and hope in his chest. It didn't take her long to notice, and he felt eyes training on him even as her hiccups were interrupted. He couldn't be certain she could understand, but she stayed quiet even as he got up from the ground slowly.

He motioned her over to him, and as she scrambled over quietly he hefted her tiny body into his arms.

"Sweetie," the moniker fell naturally from his mouth, a humming nostalgia that he breathed. "Can you tell me quietly about what's happening outside?"

Her tears had stopped fully at this point and she unhesitatingly wiped her snot on his shirt—that was a habit he would need to correct later. "Th-the bad people took me from the alley," she was besieged by another set of hiccups as he rocked her gently, "and they said mommy would be in here. They said I could go in and they would stay outside."

"How many of them are there, sweetie?"

"Four bad people, mommy."

The volume of her voice would draw attention if he wasn't careful. He put a finger over her mouth and raised his eyebrows—as her emotions regulated, he could sense her getting more alert. She quietened, eyes still trained on him, only the occasional sniffle making her way out and muffled by his clothes.

"Sweetie, we're going to get out of here, okay?" He swallowed his pride. "You'll come with...with mommy, but I need you to hold onto me very tightly, alright?"

He remembered the layout of the city vaguely. He couldn't stay in North Southernland but likewise couldn't go back home. While he wasn't sure of who his allies were, he and his child would need to be on the move, and he would need reinforcements and time.

He wasn't sure what had happened to Wizah, but he didn't have time to think about her right now. While she was undergoing a memory wipe, he would borrow her dinky little clinic space instead, and get his stuff while he was at it. Maybe he would ransack Gaunt Man's place too.

He wasn't under any delusions that it would likely be a place of suspicion, and that they would come for him. The only advantage he had left was his hidden toe-ring—a long-distance teleportation key that would allow him to 'retrace' the steps of his last hundred hours.

That would put him just slightly over halfway back to Wizah's place, or about 3 days ahead of any other capturers even if they managed to figure out their path through Wizah's memories prior to scrubbing them out of her brain.

That start would be reduced to a single miserable day if someone also had a long-distance teleportation ability, but that one day should be enough to put some unknown distance between them.

Decision made to evacuate, he took his shoe off and held it in his right hand, where his daughter was also positioned, nestled against his chest and holding on for dear life. He then bent down again and turned the upper band of the toe ring three rounds to the right.

The room began to fade around them with a loud "voooooooong", and as several people rushed in, aiming at them and firing haphazard shots, Uari found himself unconsciously shielding his daughter and turning away.

An empty, dusty road flashed into view. Neither of them was hurt.

Uari gripped his daughter tightly and took in her appearance for the first time in the evening light: dark hair and bright, dark eyes; ripped, faded clothes and bruises marring every inch of skin; bones jutting out and a body that was way too light for her five years of age.

He put aside the notion of how he knew how old she was and set aside the bubbling anger that rose with the number of bruises she had. They had other things to get on with, and so the pair began to walk in the direction of the closest city nearby: Wren.

Wren was home to Central Southernland's speciality of violent tramps, and it was seen, heard, and smelt very acutely.

A weirdly ionic, gelatinous odour rose from metallic streets, baking in the sun and stinging his nose and eyes. As the sounds of a fight broke out and the buzz of lustre crackled louder, Uari watched his daughter turn curious eyes at everything. She was still hugging his neck closely, so he let her, but he wished that Wren hadn't been the first place they'd visited together after leaving North Southernland.

They trudged forward, the sun beating down on sweat-soaked backs as street urchins ogled at the child in his arms. They didn't look that different from any other citizen in Wren, what with the filth and stench that clung to them, but they were new faces and new faces drew interest.

Scrap heaps of used metal and plastics littered the grounds, half-melted in the incredible heat of the deserts of Central Southernland and threatening to burn anyone who came even remotely near. Uari skipped around them, carefully ensuring his daughter didn't make contact with any of them.

With Wizah, they had avoided Wren entirely and skittishly. Uari suspected it might have had something to do with Wizah's shady little clinic business, but had politely kept his mouth shut. Now that he was actually picking his way through the metal scrap heaps of Wren, he thought regretfully that he should have prodded Wizah a little. She might have had some advice.

They avoided the heated, metallic heaps and eventually collapsed in the slight shade of a VendoStor. These branches really are everywhere, Uari thought snidely, but he couldn't help but feel grateful as he coaxed his daughter into drinking the better part of a bottle of water.

He used a good portion of his savings to buy necessities like water and food but hesitated in front of the last vending machine, hovering. They were clothes. The flashing hologram informed him of the appropriate wear for travelling through deserts: long shirts, long pants, and a big hat. Anything that covered the skin, really, to prevent sunburn.

Uari wouldn't have bought any for himself, but he felt his daughter grab his leg and simultaneously felt his heart melt. How could he let his daughter suffer in the heat?

He gave in and bought their cheapest options - two long robes that would provide cover and whose looseness would allow air to pass through freely. Uari dressed them both in the robes, then packed their supplies in the rucksack he bought and picked up his daughter.

They left Wren poorer, but with sufficient supplies to get them back to South Southernland. There, as he planned, they would camp out in Wizah's place and regroup.