"Shit," Spiro gasps, jerking upright under the thinning blanket splayed out over the floor, grabbing for his phone. The screen is cracked, and the case is dented. The charger yanks out of the wall when he pulls it towards him. The cable is held together with inches of black electrical tape, wound around the parts where the original casing has frayed. "Orion, what the hell?"

> I did attempt to wake you as best I could without disturbing the neighbors, Orion says. Perhaps in the future you ought to equip me with some physical appendages.

"The neighbors are crack addicts on one side and- at least, I'm pretty sure- mobsters on the other," Spiro grits, scrambling into a sitting position, tugging beat sneakers on his feet. "I don't know if you have to worry much about disturbing them."

> Members of criminal organizations are statistically violence-prone, Orion says. I believe it would be unwise to antagonize them.

"Well, if Mendoza kills me for being-" Spiro squints at the time on his cracked phone display, "-shit, 45 minutes late first thing in the morning, I don't think I'll have to worry about getting my head bashed in by the neighbor, will I?"

> This is true, Orion replies. However, the probability of Charles Mendoza committing a fatal act of violence towards your person is lower than 6.649886%.

Spiro pauses and glances up at the monitor.

"You mean there's a chance?" He mutters. "Wow. The old guy has some issues."

> Were you dreaming the same dream again? Orion asks.

Spiro stiffens. He pauses in pulling a jacket over his arms.

"...you know I did," he says.

> As consistent as always? Orion says. Spiro sighs. "Yeah," he says.

"Same one. The one about the ocean."

> Recurring dreams can be a mental representation of stressors in the real world, Orion provides.

"What, did you read that on the old-school information archives?" Spiro says, pulling on his jacket. "Think maybe I have a subliminal fear of drowning? I've never even been to the ocean. I've only seen it in pictures."

Orion's text cursor blinks.

"I have to go," Spiro says, opening the door in a haste. "See you later. Don't let the gangsters break into my place."

> And how exactly would I prevent that? Orion says, almost exasperatedly, if machines had a concept of a temper. Spiro has already shut the door behind him.

--

"You're late," Charles Mendoza scowls. His tanned leather-hide face is creased in annoyance. Mendoza is built like a bruiser, average height and stocky with no muscle mass lost to age. The only signs of complacency are the beer gut caused by the man's heavy compulsive drinking and the extra fat around his broad jawline.

"Sorry about that," Spiro pants, pushing his bike into the tiny shop and heading for the storage closet. "I overslept."

"Hah," Mendoza scoffs. "Young people these days. Oversleeping. You are all so leisurely. If you worked for the Company, and they caught you slacking, they would have your head."

"You say that about everything," Spiro says, but he smiles slightly.

Mendoza shakes his head.

"That's because I still remember what life was like before the Company, boy," he says gruffly, folding his arms over his chest. "And what it was like when they came into these parts."

"Right." Spiro says, pulling on his uniform apron and propping himself up on the counter. "Old man Mendoza remembers the good ol' days."

Mendoza scowls at him.

"Sometimes I envy you young kids," he says. "You don't know what you've lost, boy. You don't know what life used to be like."

"Was it much better?" Spiro says, shrugging. "We still have to make rent. We still have to deal with getting mugged at knifepoint in a back alley. We still have to breathe in this goddamn dust."

Mendoza makes a harrumphing noise.

"So nothing ever changes?" He says. "Christ, kid. Sometimes I wonder why I talk to you."

Spiro smiles at him. "Because I'll do the job as long as you pay me," he says.

Mendoza flips him off.

"I'm going to get a damn drink," he mutters. "Do me a favor and burn this hellhole down with you in it."

"You're a real father figure," Spiro calls after him; when the bell over the bell jingles signalling that Mendoza has left, he sighs and slumps down in his seat behind the counter. "Shit, am I glad he didn't chew me out today."

His phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket.

> Are you going to investigate the address provided by the mysterious hacker today? Orion says.

Spiro frowns. "I didn't call you," he says.

> I took the liberty of interfacing myself with your mobile phone's entire operating system, Orion says.

Spiro makes a noise.

"We need to discuss boundaries at some point," he says. "But yes. I'm going to check out the weird warehouse after work."

There's a pause. Spiro glances back down at Orion in the palm of his hand.

> Spiro, Orion says. Why are you doing this?

Spiro blinks. "That's a pretty deep question for an AI," he says. "I don't know, Orion."

> I think you do.

Spiro frowns. He narrows his eyes down at his mobile.

"You think?" He says.

> I have a hypothesis in progress, Orion says.