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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 5 - A Sale Like This

"Hold on, hold on," Wizah sidled up in front of him before he could make his dramatic exit from her 'clinic'. "I get what's going on now. I can help. Sit down."

He eyed her warily, knowing he could just bowl her over if he really wanted to. She put her hands up and dropped her shiv, then kicked it to the other side of the room.

He eyed her mouth warily.

"Don't worry, I don't bite...much." She puckered her mouth and made kissy noises instead, and he sat back down out of pure disgust.

"Okay, so obviously you need some help. The memory wipe didn't work—you might be compromised, and you need people to clean up and put you back under." She shuffled a little bit closer. "Either way, you'll need to get back to base and reconvene with the rest of the team, but since you obviously don't have anything on you, you'll need help getting there."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, you really are a sharp one, aren't you?" She grinned loudly, and it was metal that shone in the light instead of enamel. "I want money."

Uari was disappointed that he had ever given her the benefit of potentially being a person with some kind of depth to her personality. He pondered his reply briefly, before answering: "...how much do you want?"

What? He had to get somewhere, somehow. Plus he might have hidden a couple of stashes somewhere given that he was able to get so much godforsaken wood in his apartment.

She seemed thrown off, and he knew—with some irritation—that she hadn't been expecting that answer from him. She floundered a little, and he watched as she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "A billion GeegleCoins."

"That's enough to buy a whole house, so no." He stated flatly. "Give me another number."

"900 million GeegleCoins."

"No."

"Last offer: 600 million GeegleCoins. You won't find a sale like this anywhere else-"

"Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"Fine!" She scowled, cajoling failed. "100 million GeegleCoins and I'll take you to base and clean your shit up for you."

"Just take me to the base, you damned woman." He still wasn't over the weapon that was her mouth. By every other measure, she was an average Southernland citizen, but her mouth had immediately propelled her to the ranks of 'DO NOT APPROACH'. He was allowing himself to be ripped off still—50 million coins could buy him a wonderfully high-end Interface—because he was scared, dammit, and he didn't want his head to end up between those teeth. He would just sell one of his very many wooden crates.

She smiled at him toothily. "Nice doing business with you."

He shuddered. "Don't point those things at me."

"How rude," she tutted. "C'mon then."

He followed her out of the room, still tied to the chair via handcuffs. He didn't ask her to take them off, and she didn't offer. Together they entered the room next door, and she began to shove some stuff in a bag.

"What're you standing around for? Go pack your shit. I'm not helping you out if you die of thirst."

He rattled the cuffs. Wizah rolled her eyes. Insufferable woman.

She unlocked them kindly, bitching at him the whole way. "Be back in exactly one hour or the deal's off."

He was late making it back to his apartment because he hadn't known where the clinic was, so he just grabbed a bag, threw a few measly cans of beans in it, ransacked the VendoStor for as many bottles of water as he could carry, and then turned up at Wizah's backdoor again with little more than a minute to spare.

There was a scowl on her face as she locked up. "I was kinda hoping you wouldn't turn up."

"Suck it up, I guess."

The two unhappy companions set off on their journey, and Uari had no idea how far it would be going. He probably should have updated the Subtler he was working with about his sudden departure from work, but it was too late now. He would deal with the consequences (and lack of cash) when he got back.

The journey took a whole damned week, and he had been unable to weasel the exact location out of her until they were holed up in some shitty motel in North Southernland, teeth chattering from the cold of the rainy season and bemoaning the lack of good blankets.

"We'll reach the base tomorrow," she told him over a cold can of beans. He only nodded, too annoyed with their situation to contest any information coming from her as he did religiously at the start of their awful shared quest. He just wanted to be somewhere warm and comfortable for a change of pace, and from what he heard the base was exactly that.

He thought about what he would do once he reached the base, but he didn't quite have an idea yet. He was obviously involved in some pretty shady shit and was far enough up the chain that people either knew him and treated him with respect. He was supposed to have been on some undercover nonsense, then, but it had been compromised because he had realised very quickly that something was wrong with his environment.

What mission had he been on that required such a deep dive? Was there anyone near to him that he was supposed to be keeping track of, that he'd had to hide from? What did this organisation or community or whatever do, and what was their shared history? Why did he have so much wood and so many plants in his apartment?

They passed through the city, Wizah attempting to lead him around in circles to confuse his sense of direction but only irritating them both further. They finally ended up in front of another dingy shack, and he raised one eyebrow, whipping around to glare at her accusingly. "This is base?"

Before he could say anything else, he felt the barrel of his pistol press against his side.

It wasn't Wizah.