Today is my second fifth birthday. the five year anniversary of not staying a John Doe in a body bag. Well, I'm still a John Doe, though. I guess if one takes severe head trauma in a fatal event but doesn't die, suffering retrograde amnesia isn't the worst side effect. We have the tech to regenerate virtually every part of me, and you'd never know part of my head was missing save for the regrowth coloring. But I lost something irreplaceable, and knowing it's gone is infuriating.
Glasses clinked together into mine, and I popped back into reality as they finished some cheers. I'm at a bar with some friends after working today. We're celebrating my birthday. No one else calls it a second-fifth like I do in my head, we've decided to leave it at "birthday" so I don't remember. I snorted. Like having a birthday celebration on an arbitrary day isn't going to remind me.
"C'mon Felix! Isslike you're not even drinkin' witus! Your headzoff sommer else, mate!" Jason slurred, clearly pulling down shots of whatever synthohol he had in that glass faster than I was. Though I'd never tell him, turns out the previous me had liver dampeners installed, so no matter what, I was always gonna win.
"Just mellow, Jason, I'm letting it breathe" I drawled, mocking his slow slur, sloshing around the cheap drink in my polymer tumbler. "I need to savor every drop of this top shelf... something." Vanessa grinned, Jason looked puzzled, and Serra and Conrad were too caught up with some flicker-ad in their displays. Probably something Serra was sharing. She's always the net-trawler, finding those viral memes to infect us with.
I took another gulp of the clear whatever I had ordered. At this price, the only real distinction between the chemicals was the coloring agent they added and whatever other flavors you might get it layered with. One of those occasional memories from the past tells me I've had some better alcohol, maybe even legitimately distilled stuff. Maybe that's why I had the filter. I rubbed my temple, where the discolored part started. I really wish I could just get those pieces back.
Well, I guess if I had a duplicate somewhere I may be able to sync the differences. At least among the Federacies they share info as part of their normal population control trades, but apparently whoever I was wasn't from another sprawl. The disaster I suffered head trauma from was an orbital shuttle crashing into Novost Sprawl. The Sprawls are the real cities, what make up the Federacies. Novost NLC owns all the buildings, the majority of the goods, and half the people south of the Epsilon terminus. And since the Novost sprawl is where they found me, Novost now owns me, too.
I'm not a slave, mind you, as that would be illegal per the Federacy Mandates. So clever conglomerates resurrected the old wage slave system and used indenture policies to give us contractual systems by which to work off our cost. Considering I was part of a disaster but not a resident of the sprawl, they got no compensation for my regeneration, and I'm on the hook for the entire bill. In fact, to even leave I'd have to pay 20% of my skull, one way or another. Not a pleasant fact.
"You're going distant on us again, Felix." Vanessa purred in my ear, running a few fingertips across my neck and sending shivers down my spine. "One might almost get the impression you don't want to spend time with us."
I grabbed her wrist with my free hand, pulling it to my mouth to kiss her arm. After the third kiss, I licked it and she yanked her arm away with a disgusted scoff. "What? You wanted me to be more engaged, right?" I grinned mischievously.
"Ugh, yeah, but not like that!" She playfully slapped my arm, then smirked and followed with. "Not yet, at least."
"You keep saying that and I'm gonna take you up on it." I tossed.
"And if he doesn't, I will!" Conrad said, rejoining the conversation. Or well, I was zoned, so maybe he was already part of it.
"OK you bitbodgers, last round is on me, then I need to get to my third shift." Serra sighed, putting her spiked collar back on. "I have to thrum a crowd for the next 4 hours."
"Just take your top off and that'll have 'em all strung." Conrad poked. "See if they can name all your inks." He earned a less-playful slap from Serra. "But don't let 'em see your derms, they might think you're faking more than just the instruments." That got a full punch.
"No drink for you!" She shouted in his ear, sliding the cup away before one of the automated pouring arms came back through. She tapped her thumb to the bar bot when it came for the rest of us, and grabbed a caffeine shot for herself, and downed it in one swift pull, and returning the glass upsidedown to the bar, and pushed off. Conrad frowned, and watched as she sauntered out of the bar to catch an autocab to the broadcast club.
The three of us with drinks returned to them while Conrad sulked. Multicolor liquids swirling in fabricated glasses, mismatched appearances, but did the same job. Felt pretty spot on to me for what we all were. Serra was an emotion thrummer; Conrad an automator for some other club, watching all the automatons to ensure no one tampered; Jason, Vanessa and I were Novost "Insurance Verification Agents" which was a broad term for anyone who made sure the corp never got the short side of the deal.
For me, especially, they found I had some major aptitude with pattern recognition and exception detection, so I became an active case auditor. Like an old detective back when police were a neutral party, before the world got glazed. A bit of me still thinks they just put any rebuild person in this role to show how puny we were compared to the machine that kept our debt.
Conrad cracked the heavy silence in Serra's wake, asking if I had any plans for the night.
"Honestly, I would probably go back home and stream a book or something, if left to my own devices." I was being mostly sincere.
Vanessa scoffed. "Felix. I swear you are the most boring investigator we've ever had. You would think after seeing disasters daily you'd want something to take your mind off it, like something heavier than nursing synthohol."
"Yeah man, sherrsusly." Jason managed to slur. Conrad propped an arm under him.
"I'm off shift tonight, and apart from tossing Jason's wasted form into his own autocab, I think we should catch a stimshow. Get you totally out of your head –" Vanessa laughed, and Conrad glared back. "– before you fall so deep you don't come back. I don't wanna have to adrenal you if I don't have to. That happens at clubs enough these days."
"Fret not, Conrad. You don't need to adrenal me." I straightened up and dropped into a recited phrase.
"I am of sound mind and body, unhindered by any intoxicants detrimental to my well-being or of my surroundings." I grinned, dropping the façade. "I just don't like stimshows after drinking. Let's do tomorrow night instead."
We closed our tabs, vacated the bar and stepped into the illuminated street. LED lights flickered harshly from every window. Ads assaulted us from every near field display. Dismissing the notifications was such a chore most people removed their displays or coded up some silencer app. To which the marketers just made bypasses. The endless war of marketing. Us Novost agents were required to keep displays up at all time.
Just as we rounded the corner to get to the rails, Vanessa and I received urgent pings. Jason, now passed out on Conrad's shoulder, would have if his tox level were lower. Or if it were really bad, may have adrenaled him. Though, I don't know if Jason was the sort of agent with an adrenal tap. I know I was. Perks of the job.
Vanessa and I exchanged glances, and called a different rail cab. Time to go to work.
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