[The City that Never Wakes] Wageslave

Ash goes through a rapid succession of different facial expressions at Adrian's first comment.


"I can live with the glass doors and the direct feed to the rest of the dorm - that's really just a more honest version of Renraku corporate housing. But I really don't see why my ex is on the need-to-know list for my bedroom camera." In another tone it would have been a rebuke, but Ash's voice is light and her expression has settled on amused. "Also, Mark and me? Not a thing." She makes a sharp, cutting gesture, as if miming cutting the idea off at the knees. "I'm brain damaged, not stupid. He'd be fired so fast the sonic boom would violate noise pollution laws in Kyoto."


The carefree cheer disappears instantly with his last comment, though, and is replaced with a scowl. "You know something I don't." It's not a question. "Spill." And that's not a request.
 
"Yeah, I know a lot of things you don't, Ash. Like at some point I realized I apparently have a fetish for pushy girls who treat me like crap." His tone isn't hostile, but he doesn't make eye-contact with her either. He sounds more strained than angry. Tired, perhaps. Under stress. "That was an unpleasant realization. But you know, I tried to warn you. I gave just about every signal I could. So I'm saying this one is on you."


His fingers beat out a rapid pattern on his knees. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. He clenches his fist again. "But it's not complicated. You're clever, and hard working, and they'll make you try your very best. Stay, and you might pass. Don't let them bullshit you about the tech. The program doing the final evaluation is actually good—it doesn't care about the corporate culture stuff. If you're good, it'll pass you. So you could pass."


Still, he doesn't make eye contact, staring straight ahead. "You don't want to pass."
 
Ash has a wonderful piece of technology sitting where her windpipe used to be, courtesy of Renraku's medical malpractice insurance and a moderately serious surgical fuckup during the connection of her datajack to her spinal comm unit. This gives her substantially better control over her voice than she has over her face, and so her voice is level even as her facial expression is somewhere between 'really? You're just totally absolving yourself? Just like that?' and 'oh, and that bit about pushy girlfriends treating you like crap? Low blow.'


What she actually does say, however, is: "You're still not telling me anything I don't know, except the part where I find the 115 grand that I already invested and which the Company is gonna want back if I wash out without giving this thing my best shot first. Most of those investments would be highly messy and loss-making to liquidate."
 
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Adrian stares off into the park, his hands still resting over his knees. Two young women go past, on roller blades of all things, skating down the smooth walkway. He doesn't move his head to watch them go by. He doesn't say anything either, instead staring blankly into the distance. The silence is pronounced, and he pays no mind to Ash's obvious expectation of an answer.


"Once," he says, after what seems a very long while. Perhaps a full, slow count of ten. "You came to visit the arcology. You were upset, and I could see you'd been crying, but you wouldn't say what it was in front of the cameras." He swallows. "I'd been working on a way to get some privacy for awhile, and you sat in the extra chair and watched while I finished. Then you told me that Willow dying made you realize how alone you were, and said you still had feelings for me. You kissed me and said that the only reason you called it off was you couldn't stand the thought of NeoNET's HR department watching us sleep together. And asked if there wasn't any way we could get some privacy."


He takes a breath, and looks down at the path. "So I gave you the node address and password for the urgent security-alert server. The one for sending secure messages. So we could be together."


His hand beats out a pattern on his knee. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. "I had to spend a week in the box for that. Secure login information is never to be given to non-employees."
 
Ash sits for a long moment, just pondering Adrian's words. "I think I remember that, yes. But I was in a bit of a daze in the days after Willow's funeral."
 
That seems to finally get his attention, and he turns to look at her. His eyes are wide, and unmoving -- a blank, intense stare. "You... you do?" he asks after a time. "Do you remember that?"
 
Ash raises an eyebrow at him. "Not literally, obviously - that would be impossible. I've been shot if I set foot in here while working for the Big R, so that part you must have misremembered."
 
Adrian lets out a sudden breath, his head sinking into his hands. His breath is coming quickly and stiffly, and she can see that his hands are shaking. "I warn you, and I warn you, and you just don't listen, Ash! You can never just trust that maybe I'm trying to help you!" His voice is torn, and it takes him a second to straighten back up, and to return his hands to his knees. "You always cared more about being right than about being happy."
 
Ash puts an arm around his shoulder, discretely inserting the fiberoptic cable trailing out of the lining of her jumpsuit as she covers his datajack with her arm, muffling the click. "Shh, Adrian. It's going to be OK."


> OK, Big Brother is gonna cotton on to this faster than you can say 'Aggro.' So spill.
 
A joyless laugh escapes him, frayed and unsteady. His eyes go to the ground, and he stares at his shoes.


>I already told you, Ash. I already told you what happened. Telling it to you in DNI won't make it any different. You can't hide from the company. Not with a datajack. Not ever. Its eye is always upon you. It sees all your sins and it forgives you.


1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. 1-2-3-4. His fingers tap out the pattern, but now his entire lower arm is shaking violently, and he has to grab it with his other hand to still the motions.


>Envy and lust are sins, Ash. You know that. I was raised christian even it I didn't stick with it. A man should not cheat on his wife, but the company looked into my soul and saw I was weak, and when it tested me, I failed. But that's okay. A week in the box and it's all forgiven.


He squeezes his eyes shut, and draws a shaking breath.


>Like it never happened.
 
> It didn't. Adrian. It. Did. Not. Happen. I can list you the reasons why it couldn't have.


Ash hugs him more tightly now, as if trying to lend his frayed mind stability with her physical presence.
 
> I know that, Ash! Fuck, I know that. I know that didn't happen but what am I supposed to think? I swear it was real. It felt as real as this conversation. And how do I know it isn't happening again.


His shoulders slump, and he doesn't hug her back, staring with wide and empty eyes at the ground.


>You'd ask me to betray the company, Ash. You'd do it! You did do it in the cafe! And I said no because I didn't know if you were actually there. And when you ask me to do it now, I'm still going to say no. Because I'm not going back to the box, Ash. I'm not. It's a pun. It's a goddam pun. Temporally Hyperstimulated Environments for Behavioral Optimization eXperiances. THE BOX.


His hand starts shaking again, and this time, he doesn't bother grabbing it. Letting the seizure work itself out.


>It lasts until you're done. It doesn't last a week. How can there be such a thing as a week when you have no sense of time? It lasts until you get it. It's not a punishment. It's not a punishment. It's a big fluffy world full of people who love you and just want to help you get better. It's a world full of magical adventures where you organically learn to embrace important behavioral concepts like NOT GIVING AWAY THE SERVER PASSCODES or NOT CHEATING ON YOUR WIFE. And you stay there. You stay there until you get it.


His face is twisted by now, turned down into a silent grimace. He should be screaming, but DNI produces nothing but lines of silent, sterile text.


A faint whimper emerges, and Ash hears him sniffle quietly.
 
Thank you, is all she togetherthinks, before sending a burst of what looks for all the world like garbage DNI sideband to both their comms at the same time.


Hardware override authentication codes. Engage RAS locks and disengage sim module, then securely wipe storage media and restore from hard ROM.


Ashley Peterson smiles just before the RAS governors in her implanted comm lock down her motor functions, the mental image of the NeoNET rootkit screaming in helpless frustration as it is disintegrated dancing a happy dance across her mind.
 
That's when alarms should go off. That's when security officers should storm up. That's when they both should be dragged away by goons in blue and silver. But none of that happens. They only sit there in silence, as the wind rustles through the trees.


A young couple walks by, hand in hand, too absorbed in eachother's eyes to even notice Adrian or Ash. Then they move along.
 
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"It'll be okay, Adrian. It'll be okay."


> OK, I've proven I'm not a simulation, unless you fucked up and told them your hard-reset codes. And we own our own hardware, for the moment. You'll have to tell security you've misplaced their rootkit. That'll cost you some frowny-points, but fuck the frowny-points.


> Is there anything else you want to tell me, or should I just hug you now?
 
"Yeah," he says. "I know it will be." He grabs his shaking arm with his off hand, and squeezes his eyes shut sharply. When tears run down his face, he quickly wipes them away, and hides them. His hand reaches back to the base of his neck, and he jacks out without another message. "I'm just under a lot of stress right now, and feeling like I messed up your life wasn't helping. It'll be fine."


He straightens up, and grips his knees with his hands, stopping the shaking for a moment. "Thanks, Ash," he says, quietly.
 
Ash just hugs him for a long moment, before quietly saying "it'll all be okay, Adrian. Not gonna lie to you, you did fuck up. But it'll be okay."


"It'll be okay."
 

No it won't. But at least he's not completely alone. When all his other friends have abandoned him, he'll still have that gun in his arm.

Hey, Ash.


Bang.
​



"You look terrible," Linda says sympathetically, offering Ash a second cup of coffee. "Here. Take your time. I can't imagine how busy you've been." The conversation should have started awhile ago, but Ash lost her train of thought, and Linda offered her coffee, and the cursory pleasantries ended up being less cursory. For the last week, Ash has been wracked by nightmares, her sleep wild and fitful. Sometimes, they're a vague, unspecific worry, that ends with her waking up in a sweat. Sometimes the images are sharp and clear, and she shoots up in bed convinced that it was all real. Monday, she watched Adrian kill Willow. Wednesday, she watched Adrian kill her.


Last night, she watched Adrian kill himself.


It doesn't matter though. Objectively, that is. Her sleep regulator ensures that her nightmares never interrupt normal REM activity. It doesn't matter how many times she wakes up screaming, she can always get right back to sleep, and wakes up in the morning feeling alert and clearheaded. She is, demonstrably, not suffering from exhaustion or any of its effects.


The coffee still makes her feel better. And so do the cookies on the table. Caffeine and sugar are IT traditions, after all. And it helps that Mark and the others are there. He's been very supportive of her, albit it, in a slightly more chaste and pure way than she might have wished for.


Life over the last few days has been relaxing for Ash in many ways, and troubling in others. Her workload has continued to be light, as the others take more than their share. The group also goes out of its way to support her, besides just Mark, with Virgnia and Glen both cheerfully going over the material with her, ensuring she gets some free time. But Ash isn't blind to the fact that she's being treated with a gentle touch. The group perceives her as fragile, keeping both work and their own personal troubles away from her.


She suspects they've made a separate VR node and chat without her.


Linda gives Ash plenty of time, letting her recover, letting her take a breath, letting her soak in the atmosphere and enjoy the comfortable chair beneath her. It's only when Ash has started to signal that she's ready to move on that Linda makes her first, gradual brush towards what they both know she's here to talk about.


"I saw what happened with you and Adrian," she says, not formally, but certainly carefully. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, but thank you for being supportive. He's having a very rough time right now."
 
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Ash scratches the surgical scars at the back of her head, a mannerism that has taken the place of running a hand through her hair now that she no longer wears a wig.


"Linda, Adrian is not having a rough time right now," Ash sighs. "He's obviously being pushed this close," she holds up a hand, thumb and index finger no more than half a centimeter apart, "to an emotional, and possibly - no, probably - physical breakdown. Already when I came here a month ago he was displaying obvious symptoms of extreme, long-term stress and fatigue, and our talk last week made me realize that things have gone from bad to worse."


"Bluntly put, whatever pressure he is under needs to go away." Her voice is worried, and concern is etched in her face as she speaks. Ash is normally a very visual speaker, using gestures and body language to emphasize or serve the same function that the limbic sideband does in sim. But right now her posture is demure, leaning slightly forward in the sofa with her hands resting on the coffee mug in her lap. "And it needs to go away long enough that he can recover - actually recover, not just cope."
 
Linda pauses a moment, drawing back her mouth into a line.


"Oh, gosh. It's nice to see you too, Ash," she finally answers. "I'm so sorry I haven't had more time to see you since you started working here. I just thought you should have a little time to settle in on your own. How's that snobby bitch act working out for you? Making a lot of friends?"


She briefly touches a finger to her nose, before settling back in her chair. Her expression remains calm, but there's a distinct edge to her tone. "Or did you just forget you were in my house?"
 
Ash puts the coffee mug down, with ever so slightly shaking hands. "He's dying, Linda. Adrian is dying. Extrapolate his current trajectory three months into the future... God, I can't even bring myself to think about it." Bereft of their contents, her hands clench and unclench arrhythmically while she speaks. "You love him, Linda, that's obvious. So ridiculously obvious it's not even funny. You love him far more than I ever did."


Ash leans back and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before she continues. "And at this rate, you. will. lose him. He might very well die." And if I'm right about what kinds of implants he's got, then he might take a whole lot of people to Hell with him if he goes off the deep end, she does not add. "But even if he doesn't? Even if he 'just' ends up in a stress-induced depression? That's bad, Linda. Really, life-changingly bad. You're not gonna get the same Adrian you fell in love with back out on the other side of that."
 
"Ash, I am well aware of that," Linda replies, her voice tight. "Shockingly, at some point in the last several months, I did notice that the man I'm married to is in pain. But no, thank you for sweeping into our lives and gracing me with your wisdom. I don't know what I'd have done without you."


Her hands grip the arms of her chair, and while she speaks evenly, her voice is firm. "Now, we're going to start this conversation again, and this time, you'll remember where you are, strike a respectful tone, and consider that maybe you are the outsider here." She stiffly swallows. "Is that understood?"
 
"I'm sorry." Ash pinches the bridge of her nose. "I didn't mean to go off like that, and I can see how it could sound like I was accusing you of..." she trails off. "I'm just... I'm shocked. When I met with Adrian a month ago... I assumed he was just stressed about the situation. It was a stressful situation." A small pause. "I... The meetup we had last week, it was like calling a friend you think has a clean bill of health and finding yourself forwarded to the reception of an intensive care unit."


"I know you must have a different perspective. But in the moment it was just too jarring. I'm sorry."
 
Linda pauses, but her stern look softens, and her shoulders slump. "It's okay," she finally says. "Adrian has... Adrian has been having troubles for a long time." For a moment, that's all she says, and it's with some noticeable effort that she continues. "Since he first came here. Everyone who moves has culture shock problems at first, of course, and I think we both assumed he'd get better with time."


Her fingers drum once on the arm of the chair, and she looks down at the floor. "But he didn't. He tried to deal with it. For me and for his job and for all his friends here. Tried to adapt. But it's all just wearing him thinner and thinner. I try to help. I do everything I can. But it's like being married to someone who has a traumatic fear of the color blue. I can take off my uniform before I come home, try to keep him away from it. But I can't keep him away from it completely and when he sees it..."


A silence hangs for a moment.


"We've been thinking of moving away," she finally says.
 
Ash nods slowly.


"Without presuming to understand your relationship... I think it's worth trying." She pauses for a heartbeat or two. "Maybe I'm projecting some of my own issues onto his situation, but then we do come from the same culture, so maybe our issues aren't that dissimilar. Anyway, with that caveat, I think simply living outside the arcology would help. Having a clear boundary between work and home, between having to weigh every word he says on a scale of gold and, well, not having to."
 
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