Reference Chronicles
Chapter 2
My head is panged and throbbed from the dive, I knew I shouldn't have dived sober, especially when the dive was a blind run.
I made a note of my two-part fuckup and threw on the nearest clothes I had, an armored panel covered jacket and some plated high-waisted skinny jeans coupled at last with my shitty old hydrophobic boots.
I figured it wasn't worth trying to be fashionable, much less not-protected, when going on a stim run. My hair was still wet but the panging made stims priority one. "You know I don't mind keeping you sharp, right?" Jet said. My eyes flicked to his as I started towards the door, I was about to say something in response but he chortled then turned away from me. I guess he got the memo. I made my way down the shaky old-world ladder-stairs, our venue wasn't exactly preem, no glitzy entrances with armed and decked out gaurds, no holo-defended elevators, and certainly no cops accumulating zennies in exchange for static time and flowing calories. I wondered why stamp always chose his dump for dives, even if it was easier for cops and corps to find us at my place, in reality it'd only be a difference of nano-seconds. My hands spasmed on the railings as I felt another pang. I tried my best to maintain my urgent non-threatening run to the nearest vendor spot as often times other people are a little spooked when some chick with armored clothes and a mean eye heads towards them. I passed my left hand alongside my usual vendor machine, it was one of half-a-dozen, the spot a usual place for vagrants, runners and the destitute. A musical chime played and some flashing lights reflected against my face as a canister popped out of a round slot, I grabbed it, broke a tab off of the canister and sat down to enjoy my freshly acquired goods. All net-runners that try to split during dives without the proper modules tend to get head pains like mine, some drank through it, others found their own rituals, mine was a cheap-always available can and injection of neurochem. Neurochem was the two-part epoxy of middle-class runners like myself. I cracked open the remaining canister, taking sips as I peeled off the plastic from the first tab exposing a fresh syringe. Neurochem used to be the elite drug of choice for corpo runners, course a decade and new module development made it obsolete, it was particularly remarkable because the creators figured that by splitting it into an ingestible and injectable they could provide both immediate and long-term relief. Coupled with anti-withdrawal and anti-resistance enzymes, it was hard for anyone to bat an eye at it getting adopted. I retracted the needle cover backwards into the body of the syringe, aimed at the chem-port on my left wrist and shot up. I hated doing this, not because I had an illusion of addiction but rather because I knew it was inefficient, a split-module would only run 40,000 zennies, nueorchem was 360 each and every time. One more run I thought as I bit my lip in response to the concoction hitting my brain. "Still using that shit? You never were good with money..." a voice that I slightly hated spoke up, I looked to my right to confirm my suspicions and noted the presence of an all too-familiar ex. Diz was a corpo-rat, the kind all corpos aspired to be, always knew too much but wouldn't ever tell you, part of the reason we broke up was because of that, the other was my activities threatening his way. Diz was young in appearance despite him being nearly 50,he had a clean grease-ball appearance perfect for his personality and bad habits. "I'd ask what the fuck you're doing here but I have a prediction...." I stated jokingly with a smile as I turned back to my can and took another swig. I felt him take a few steps my way, my left leg started to bounce against the pavement, a shred of anxiety running through me. "Listen Victoria, I'm not here to cause trouble, in fact I'm only here because I have a modicum of respect for you and your work, I know how hard it's been for you getting to this stage and how close you are to the next." My eyes flicked involuntarily to my left as I glanced at his mug. He twisted one of his fingers towards himself then up, it's color changing from flesh to it's usual solid black, as he started vaping through it, each inhale causing it to light up with amber at it's end. No matter how high tech the world got, rats always needed their fix. I laughed, "Yeah, sure thing Diz, worked real fuckin' hard-". "You did," He cut me off. "-I'm not here to wound you or play with you, you know I have other people for that. I'm just here to tell you to be careful." He took another inhale, "Your activity pinged, and judging by your "food"..." he stared at my empty dose of neurochem, "you know I could sponsor you a split-module, I could make one go missing, it's not a problem worth risking what little you have.". I turned to face him and looked at his eyes. "Well, that'd be wonderful, except after this run I will have one, and you know installation takes you out of commission for a few days." "Fine, fine..." another inhale, he placed his e-cig back on his hand and flexed his re-acquired digit. "I suppose it was unnecessary telling you." he said, throwing his hands up in the air. I smiled again, my leg ceasing it's twitch, "Not at all Diz, I'll try to be careful, and even if I did know I got pinged, which I didn't for the record..." I paused, "it's still good to see you." He nodded, "Likewise Vic, let's just hope our next encounter is less worrisome..." He turned away and started walking towards his back-trim slim-line Vamboo. A perfect rat-car for an almost perfect corpo-rat. I hated how the richer you were, the easier it was for you to quietly come and go.