He grimaced, glancing over his shoulder again. "When the Lucidious is involved, it never hurts to be cautious."
A firm emotional floor rose in my heart, preventing the pit in my chest from growing. His abilities were the only thing standing in the way of me and pure dread. I looked behind us, but the pulsating wall of people had already obscured the venue. I couldn't help but give each face in the tumult an anxious glance, worried that the mechanized bald man would appear to claim me.
An overwhelming golden glow suffused the air, close and bright enough to make me yelp. I glanced up, watching as the golden-armored holographic videogame character streaked overhead on his cloud again. I bristled as people bumped against me, my breathing becoming quick. No longer was I in awe, everything felt claustrophobic and overstimulating.
Flashing lights, constant bumps from all sides, overwhelming mixtures of pungent aromas, the slightly uneven bricks beneath my feet, the suffocating weight of the hazy air— my mind was abuzz with so much information that even Johnny's emotional flooring started to feel lackluster. I closed my eyes, letting him guide me for a moment as I imagined my mother's embrace, her soft voice. I couldn't bear to imagine what had happened to her… the thought would've made me sick if it weren't for Johnny's assistance. Thus, it felt like a safe coping mechanism, to imagine her arms around me... to imagine safety. I hope you're alright.
As my urge to hide away grew, I was proven wrong. Whispers stretched across an infinite distance, echoing in my ears incessantly. My shoulders drooped; my arms wrapped tightly around my body. Johnny jostled me and my eyes snapped open, frantically stepping away as I glanced down at my neck.
No streaks.
I took a deep breath, realizing we had exited the square and now stood on a less populated street. Cars whizzed by, shops on either side of the two-laned street bright and inviting. People still moved around us, but a fraction of what it was before. "I heard the whispers again."
He took a long drag of his cigarette. "I noticed. What were you thinking about?"
"My mom. Wanting to hide."
He looked up at the sky, extending a black-gloved hand upward. "Same as the first time then. Remember to move forward and outward, not inward and backwards."
"I… don't understand."
"The whispers— your old self, wants you to stagnate, hide. The boss said this earlier, just remember to keep pushing forward." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, examining it. "You can dwell on memories, just be careful and avoid memories of hiding or safety."
Great. I sighed, gesturing at his hand in confusion "What are you doing?"
"It's going to rain soon."
I looked up, the weather nearly impossible to discern from the obnoxiously bright lights, hazy air and flying cars. "How can you tell?"
"I can feel it in my bones, the sky will open, and the clouds will weep." He gestured to the end of the street, "The street we're looking for isn't far. Basinview is just over that way." With that, he began to walk.
"I thought you hated this place."
He paused, looking back. "I do."
"I didn't think you'd be so familiar."
"Just because I hate it doesn't mean I don't spend plenty of time here," he resumed walking, "it's just part of the job."
My shoes splashed through a puddle as I joined Johnny, walking side by side. The air was bitingly cold, making me regret my choice of no trench coat. The sound of distant music and screeching wheels echoed all over.
The first street we were on was stylish, sleek and modern. Glass boutiques showing brilliant clothes, exquisite restaurants flaunting their orange and yellow Lucida Flames— the lowest tier of excellence set-up by the Lucida Pyre. A memory of my mother flashed by; an afternoon spent fantasizing about visiting a Flame restaurant. I felt a draw to enter through their sleek exteriors hand in hand with her, and to venture into the well-lit spaces, to marvel at their fashionable designs and stark iconography. Their customers wore extravagant, exotic designs: the women in brilliant dresses and the men in trimmed suits and long coats. The people we walked past had high turtlenecks or collars, silver circlets in their hair, and resplendent jewelry with chain-motifs, regardless of gender. Their skin was clear, and hair washed and styled.
We took a few turns, and ended up slightly deeper in the city, away from the bustling hub we'd arrived in. This street looked similar, but it felt different. The businesses were less clean, the ground had a few pieces of trash, and the stores less populated. When we passed by people, they resembled the figures I'd seen before, but the more I studied the more differences I found. Here, clothes were older, people appeared less well-kempt and unlike the pristine pictures of high-society I'd seen before. They lacked the sheer quantity and quality of chain-themed jewelry, appearing to be in a class below.
But with our final few turns, the atmosphere transformed completely. The streets were pitted, and cars sparsely dared to pass by. The smaller buildings were ramshackle and worn, the bigger mid-rises damaged and unclean with worn paint and scraped metal plating. People in wild and foreign, gruff-looking clothing walked in the streets, openly displaying weapons and hostility. Even in this worn part of town, ads and glowing lights were everywhere, lighting up the dismal garbage-strewn area.
With a crash, someone went flying out a door and out onto the street. I leapt back, stepping behind Johnny reflexively. The man wore raggedy black leather with pulsating blue lines running along it, his similarly colored hair emitting a faint light. The building he had come from was small and three stories tall, made of worn concrete adorned with holographic beverages dancing on its walls. The man pushed himself up, spitting up blood and wiping his mouth as he drew a large hatchet from his waist. From a flap on the back of his jacket, a third, spindly and bare-bones metal arm thrust out, wires dangling from the scraped chassis. In its three-fingered grasp was a large black gun with a long magazine extending from the side. It stabilized the weapon on his shoulder, and the man rummaged in his pocket for something, putting on a glowing monocle.
A sudden flash of light accompanied by a cacophonous crack filled the air as the third arm was blown to fragments by a well-placed shot from within the bar. The man stumbled back, stunned and bleeding, the fragments having imbedded themselves in his shoulder. He fell to the ground, trying to crawl away as two muscular men dashed out, pinning him to the ground.
A woman with a pistol on her hip darted behind them, and the man's face blanched as soon as he saw the tool in her hand. "W-wait! Please! I'm sorry I didn't—"
He went silent with a firm blow to the base of the skull, and the two men rolled the unconscious man flat on his stomach. With a large hand axe, they carefully opened his jacket and shirt, revealing a mangled mess of metal and flesh where the arm was attached. The woman straddled his body, brandishing a long syringe connected to a small bag on her shoulder through a thick tube. She carefully placed it against his lower back and gave it a firm push. I winced, averting my eyes as the sound of a motor filled the air. I glanced back in sick fascination, watching the faintly glowing white liquid travel up into the bag.
When she was finished, she gestured to the two men, "Grab that wired bastard's arm."
A sickening squelch and the splintering of bone filled the air as one of the men hoisted his right arm up, the cross-section gushing blood that pooled around the body. "Got it."
She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No, you burnout, the robotic one."
"Oh." He dropped the arm with a splat before slamming his axe into the man's back, haphazardly chopping away the flesh to remove the prosthetic.
I felt the meat I'd eaten rising back up through my throat as tears welled in my eyes. Johnny steadied me, stopping me from stumbling back. Deep breaths. My lungs filled, and slowly emptied. I couldn't help but bristle at the sight as I looked back one final time, the hair on my neck rising. Not wanting to watch another second, I turned away, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"Their… they're monsters."
"They're surviving the only way they know how." Johnny finished his stick of meat, taking a puff. "But I agree, its… revolting."
"How can they be so casual?" The sight of his removed arm haunted me, making my stomach twist into knots at the mental image.
He shrugged. "Just how it is."