Talk is cheap.
That's what most people would say, anyway. Anyone can talk the talk, but few can walk the walk.
Celeste vehemently disagreed with that. As she walked barefoot across the cold, dirty concrete, she wondered who had come up with the phrase, and if they'd ever talked their way into a deal they couldn't uphold. If they'd ever used their charisma to assure someone of something that they, themselves, weren't so sure about.
Talk, Celeste decided, wasn't cheap. It was expensive as hell.
"Looking for someone to warm up those cold, lonely nights?" a seductive ad asked. Celeste paused and gazed up at the LED billboard, one of many squares slotted above a Chinese restaurant. An Asian woman gave a broad, toothy smile. "Someone to have a little pillow talk with? Men, women, borgs, and everyone in-between are just a swipe away. Forget the heartbreak of true love. Remember the bliss of freedom."
The woman let out a sensual sigh, and the ad was replaced by a buff, glistening man running across a beach. He held a fashionable beer can in one hand. Celeste turned away from the ad and continued onward.
Her eyesight was returning as slowly and surely as the sun rose in the east. Vague outlines at first, and then a handful of minor details. Enough to recognize people and tell one apart from the other as she passed them on the sidewalk. Some of them murmured to themselves in disgust or suspicion. Sometimes, both.
"Why's she wearing that mask? Freak thinks it's Halloween, I guess."
"Walk of shame, in this neighborhood? Someone's gonna kill her."
"Psst, think we should call for help? She might not be well. Er, maybe best not to stick our nose in other people's business. Could be a cyberpunk for all we know…"
Feeling returned slowed than sight. Taking her shoes off helped her feel where she was. The vertical line that ran along the edge of the sidewalk was a warning she'd strayed too far toward the road. Brushing her right foot against a wall meant she was about to flay herself against the side of a convenience store, so she'd wandered too far toward safety.
She could feel the curb with her toes and wrap them around it, where she'd perch like a silver-haired gargoyle for a while, listening for cars until she regained enough eyesight to see the "walk" signal. Most crosswalks were voiced nowadays, but not all of them were functional, and some were drowned out by the rain and thunder.
She walked slowly for fifteen minutes or so before her first major incident: a fire hydrant that had it out for her. Probably the only obstacle on the sidewalk, given her rotten luck. She slammed her left foot into it hard and let out a howl that would've made any wolf proud, no doubt breaking a toe or two. Her nerves may be shot, but she could still feel anything that hit a bone.
She limped toward the wall and slid down to the ground to wait until the pain subsided. Someone nearby snickered as they walked by. Someone else kicked at her other heel, hard enough to knock her leg out of the way.
"Dumb punk," a male voice said, and spat. Whether his saliva landed on the pavement or her leg was anyone's guess.
"Hey," another voice asked. Celeste's breath caught in her throat. "Didn't that guy say they were looking for someone with a mask? Short hair?"
"Me?" Celeste put on her best innocent voice. "I just left a party. A lot of us had these."
Whatever was said next was lost beneath the rain. But she didn't need to hear the words. She recognized the tone of doubt, of distrust, and hopped quickly to her feet as the two figures turned and shouted down the road.
"She's here!"
Ignoring the pain in her foot, Celeste bolted down the road. Her eyes were drawn toward a much larger billboard that loomed over her like a god. An old man with a long beard and pearly white teeth looked down at her. He cradled a rifle in his hands.
"…right as a free citizen to defend yourself, your home, and your loved ones. A chef wouldn't cook without a pan, and a man shouldn't live without a gun. Vote YES on Referendum 133-B, and ensure you can protect your kids wherever they are. I'm Chuck Dowers, and I approve this message."
The billboard!
Down the next alley, over a fence — no doubt cutting herself to ribbons in the process, she'd never hopped a fence before — and around the side of another building. She was winded by the time she found the base of the billboard. The ladder was hidden behind a bush littered with empty beer cans. Celeste launched herself over the dangerous trash and scrambled up the ladder as quickly as she could, stubbing her fingers and toes against the steel rungs more than once. Once at the top, she collapsed against the steel and positioned herself so that she was between the two sides of the billboard, away from the light.
The smell of rain and rust filled her nostrils. From up here, she could see the city's neon-lit horizon. Deep oranges and light purples that radiated up from each sector of the city, denoting which zone was which. But she couldn't tell the colors apart. Not right now. An unexpected wave of disappointment came crashing down on her. When her eyesight had returned to normal, she'd need to get another view like this and see the city in all its glory.
Holographic waitresses appeared in front of high-end-restaurants, bowing toward the occasional customer as they passed by. Most went inside.
Two figures ran down the road she'd just left. They weren't the same shapes as the ones before.
Bhasvah's men.
They looked around, slipping into the alley and kicking aside trash bags, testing locks on doors. They even glanced up toward the billboard at one point, and Celeste curled into a ball and became one with the shadows. She even held her breath, afraid the slight movement might tip them off. But the two quickly abandoned the road and went north.
Breathe, Celeste. Just wait. Need to get a little more sight back before I keep going. Gotta be able to see which road I'm on.
After waiting a few minutes to ensure the two had moved on, she climbed slowly back down the ladder. It was so tall! She'd never climbed something this tall before and hadn't realized how high up it was.
Once back on the street, she looked toward the sound of incoming traffic, searching the gray until she found the sign hanging above the intersection. The words were a bit difficult to read, but she'd made it to Boles Avenue. Or was it Boone St.? It was hard to tell through the rain.
The monorail ran above a large park, veering around a corner a few lights away. Everything on the other side of the road, as well as beyond a street down, was buried beneath the static, made significantly worse since her vision was still sponged of all color.
The pain in her foot subsided to a dull throb as she walked, enough to make her wince every few seconds. That was probably the best it was going to get.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when a Dalmatian, perfectly camouflaged in grayscale, barked at her from her left. A woman shushed the dog and hurried along, shooting Celeste a wary glance.
And then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a cellphone. "Yes, hello? Police? There's a…"
Oh you've got to be kidding me.
She slid around the next corner to break the woman's line of sight. It would be harder to keep track of the monorail this way, but at least she could…
Something hot and sticky jumped up between her toes. Her nerves were shot, but her sense of hearing and smell were perfectly fine.
After scraping the dog shit off on the curb as best she could, and cursing the careless dog owner with every swear word she knew, Celeste hurriedly hobbled down the road and took another left at the light.
Sirens cut through the rain, close enough to make her hair stand on end.
The mask!
She yanked it off and dropped it into a nearby trashcan, then lifted her hands to shield her face from any nearby cameras or cyborgs with ocular implants.
And then she realized it was too late. There was a reason the sirens sounded so close by. They were directly in front of her, just on the other side of the street.
Celeste froze in the cold rain. No use trying to outrun the police — or anyone, in this condition. And she was a terrible liar.
Better them than Bhasvah's men, though. They, at least, wouldn't kill her.
Her feet were glued to the cement, her legs leaden. Celeste was about to raise her hands above her head in defeat when something wrapped around her waist and snatched her off the sidewalk and into the darkness of a nearby alley.
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