*This is a work in progress. Mistakes may be present.
Nila. Londbridge, Europa. 20 October, 2222
Somewhere outside, beyond the reinforced concrete and glass, imposed on the cacophony of the street jumble, she heard the high whine of a drone–likely MetSec, short for Metropolitan Security.
Wireless -RecieveOnly -RefusePing
The room was dark and appeared to be uninhabited. It was small and lit only from the blazing kaleidoscope outside the narrow window. As a single room, four meters long and two meters wide it didn’t have much besides stale funk and must from years of abandonment. Right inside the door–one of those that slide to the side into the adjacent wall to save space–there was what might have been sold as a kitchenette having a small refrigerator and microwave with a narrow counter between them. The counter extended beyond the refrigerator/microwave stack to provide a half meter square table with a retractable bench-seat under it.
On the other side, opposite the kitchenette area, there was an enclosed bathroom. It had another pocket door, a thinner version of the entrance door, and contained a narrow, credit-operated shower, a small, similarly credit-operated recessed sink and a toilet, fueled by grey-water from the shower and sink.
In places like this one would expect the lights to either automatically come on, or if not, then to be voice activated. It remained dark and Nila was hesitant to say anything out loud until the place had been determined to be unoccupied and cleared of surveillance tech.
Eyes-lowlight
Eyes-overlayExternals -wirelessTransmistion -AVSensors -local
There were obvious benefits to having mod-ed eyes. Her silver-grey irises dilated even more than they were already. The features of the room came into crystal clear view. There were no audio-visual sensors that she could detect, at least not facing inward, but the device that she passively noticed from outside, was clearly highlighted sitting on the sill of the window, mounted on a wiry, flexible tripod. It glowed yellow in her visual cortex.
The sound of the MetSec drone passed after a moment, so she reactivated her wireless.
>KCN: you here?
>UNKNOWN: no
>KCN: well,…you contacted me…
Nila’s fingers felt over the small of her back, feeling for Cockchester-Raj 9mm that wasn’t there.
I don’t need firearms. I am Siva.
>KCN: ok, im game
>…
>UNKNOWN: go to the top
>KCN: of…?
>UNKNOWN: this location. floor 380.
She scooped up the palm-sized device from the sill on her way out.
After a nauseatingly long ride up, Nila left the elevator on floor 375. The doors opened and closed like medieval clock doors, with her still dripping, coat-shrouded body as the cookoo.
With a long circuit of the restricted penthouse floor–don’t trip over the silk carpets and gold-plated pissbins–the arc was pyramidal in form, so the top floor was smaller than the base.
–Nila found a service access point for what amounted to the roof of the massive structure. In old times when geology did these things they called them massifs–now they are just enormous buildings.
The door did not resist overmuch. Magnetic bold just flew out when she kicked it heartily.
Nearly two klicks above street, Nila was affronted by the relatively fresh air. The twinkling lights of the vast city not just below but on every horizon, except for the not-so-far sea-side, where the glimmering city turned to inky black.
The map says it’s that column there. Nila looked up at the 500 meter rail column mast. It towered over the roughly square rooftop. A thin lip a meter tall ran around the edge, although she imagined sliding or rolling down the long sides of the pyramid below, rattling the hard glass shell until reaching the edge of the incline, where the sloping walls abruptly became vertical and dropped 50 meters to the street.
Four designated landing pads sat in their respective corners–all unoccupied, but lit by red and green pulsing landing lights like fireflies.
There’s no fucking way I’m climbing that.
>UNKNOWN: acceptable I can see you from here
Did I initiate? protocols no longer made sense.
It was like UNKNOWN was reading her mind–not just transiting, or insinuating, the linked aspects, but inside.
>KCN: What is it you want?
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