Once upon a time, there was a place called New Jersey...

  In 2035, after total nuclear disarmament and the energy revolution, the bombs began to fall. The major cities of the United States of America were hit by what later became known as “diplomatic” bombings. They landed right next to population centers, but not directly on them. A war of rhetoric and pretexts followed, leading to the loss of millions of lives as the country retaliated against all its enemies. The true motives and perpetrators of each attack were never fully uncovered, but everyone paid the price, and the planet’s population dwindled significantly.

  The first strike wiped out everything beyond the Hudson—it was a new type of MOAB, leaving behind no radioactive contamination but also not a single stone upon another.

  Nearly twenty years passed before the desolate wasteland stopped being a grim semblance of a memorial to those lost in the attack. The land was gradually sold off to the massive corporations that had risen from the ashes of war, and slowly, it transformed into an enclave reminiscent of what Silicon Valley had once been. Over time—first colloquially, then officially—it became known as New New York.

  Rachel’s grandfather had been just a child when the city was still new. But he told that ominous story as if he had lived through the attacks himself. She had it burned into her memory. That’s why, as she approached on her Voltrider through that stupid transparent tube connecting both cities, she couldn’t help but feel that the towering glass skyscrapers—or the smaller, stark white buildings—were like colossal tombstones, marking the graves of all those lost in the attack… and the dreams of those who had ever aspired to live within their walls.

  She hadn’t even arrived yet—and she already hated it.

  The first major difference between Old New York and this place was that from the tube, the streets were repulsion rails. Movement was strictly dictated—vehicles could only follow predetermined paths at set speeds, levitating just millimeters above the ground. In Old City, there were only two or three avenues like this—boring, reserved for luxury cars. Her Voltrider was compatible with the rails, but it felt like being on a carousel. She didn’t even have to steer—it was automatically guided to her destination.

  A sudden message on her Holox yanked her out of her irritated daze.

  Attention: NaNo product detected: Fashion Parade. Version ###. Would you like to activate network functions? Accept linking to the generic digital connection device registered under Rachel Haynes?

  The missing version number was undoubtedly Bit’s doing. Apparently, the rivalry between Holox and NaNo as dominant tech providers was still very much alive in New City.

  “I accept. Access code: PatrickIsABastard. Activate gesture access.”

  She gave her signature seductive wink, and the interface recognized her.

  Attention: Product ####### detected. Activation ###### initiated.

  Well, that was unexpected. Were these some kind of modifications? Better ask. She sent Bit a screenshot of the message. Almost instantly, her Holox rang.

  “Answer. What the hell, Bit? I don’t want this getting me into trouble.”

  “Rae,” Bit sounded annoyed. “Calm down. I used my own code to modify the set—that’s why two activations are showing up. It’s part of the fun. Normally, nanomachines have a limited number of uses, but yours will last until they wear out. And rumor has it… that’ll take a very long time. NaNo supposedly imposes those limits just to sell more.”

  “Aren’t those gaps going to attract attention?”

  “They’re not gaps, Little Purple One. The interface just can’t display the alphanumeric code that replaces their encryption. It’s nerd stuff, as you like to say.”

  “Anyway, since you called—anything new?”

  “Nope. Spent my time dancing naked around the apartment.”

  “Got it. So… what did you find out?”

  “That there are no official reports of a robbery at the labs. Also, I left Patrick a new password—his last one was pathetic. He’s so predictable, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m not the only one playing in police records.”

  “I already knew that, Bit. I have access on my Holox—you installed it for me.”

  “Then nothing new, Rae. Sorry. Hey—did you get there yet? Did you see the Old Steam Rides building? That place has gotta be Mecca for you.”

  “I’ll make sure to say my prayers when I arrive. Doesn’t look that different from Old City from the tube.”

  “I’ve only been there once, but trust me, it’s different up close. Anyway—you can tell me later. I’m off to kickboxing practice.”

  Bit’s call always ended abruptly—the girl lived as if she were always in a rush, though she hardly ever went anywhere.

  Rachel decided to test the nanomachines. She activated the app and cracked the glass capsule. The silver powder quickly disappeared, and the user interface materialized in front of her eyes.

  Bit had turned it into a sort of catalog—she could select each piece separately or full outfits. There were also options to change the colors or materials. If they could really do all that, Rachel would love to know how they worked.

  For now, she decided to give her usual look a twist. She stored her baton in her coat before selecting ankle boots and seductive sheer black stockings. She added a miniskirt to her corset and closed the neckline up to the collar. She shortened her trench coat and dyed it black, along with her fedora. Maybe in New City, she could be a slightly more conservative version of herself. She completed the outfit with matching gloves and wished she had her makeup—a black lipstick would be killer. The transformation wasn’t entirely instant—it took a couple of minutes—but it was still astonishing.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The stupid tube ended, but the carousel didn’t. She’d been told the rails were high-speed, thanks to AI-managed traffic organization. But to her, a hundred kilometers per hour was just a casual ride.

  What truly caught her attention was the fact that many of the vehicles on the road weren’t what she expected—they weren’t the angular, futuristic cars of the latest models but sleek, aesthetic designs from the twentieth century, adapted for the intelligent roadway. Most of those companies had been dead for decades, but New New York’s landscape was dominated by Aston Martins, Jaguars, Cadillacs, Mustangs, and Corvettes—even a black Rolls-Royce passed beside her as if she were watching a movie set two hundred years in the past. She could almost see Italians in suits and hats through the tinted windows—and she wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Of course, these people had so much money they drove literal museum pieces.

  People were scarce in the rain-soaked streets that night, but the few she saw—mostly of Indian descent, as suggested by their strong features—wore clothes similar to hers. Trench coats and hats everywhere, in vibrant neon colors, though underneath, they wore modern clothing.

  Rachel was hit by the memory of the first time she showed Zena and Alexander her trench coat—something she had thought was so original, so her. They had laughed, without telling her why.

  It was trending in New City, and those two idiots had known it.

  At that moment, she was grateful to have Bit’s nanomachines and to have made the change—she felt like a fool for a moment. But well, in the end, she had to assume she had been ahead of high fashion.

  She decided to focus on her mission and headed to NaNo’s headquarters. The company’s logo, a rare mix of overlapping cubes, dominated the landscape—sponsoring almost everything, just as Holox did in Old City.

  Bit wasn’t joking when she said everything was out of reach in this city. Every parking space for her friend had impossible prices, but NaNo offered users a discount, bringing the fee down to just a little more than parking in Times Square’s center. Expensive, but affordable—it was an obvious tactic to force people to use their products or, essentially, shower them in bits.

  New New York didn’t have a city hall—all services were privately provided, including healthcare, security, and education. And of course, the largest and most powerful company had a monopoly in most cases.

  In the end, thanks to her new toy, she was able to park close to headquarters and walk to the entrance of the towering white skyscraper, where cubical designs dominated everything.

  The retractable roofs rumor turned out to be false, of course. In reality, the area surrounding headquarters was shielded from rain by repulsion generators—just like the one on her motorcycle. Only much more expensive.

  She crossed the enormous glass doors, not really sure what to expect.

  “Good evening,”—a slender man, dressed formally, approached her before she could take a second step inside that immaculate white hall.

  “Miss… Haynes, correct? We’re pleased that you’ve recently chosen our products. Are you here for a clarification regarding your Fashion Parade set?”

  That was always the downside of owning anything from Holox or NaNo—they ended up knowing even what you ate.

  “No, how kind of you. I’m an independent investigator, and I need someone from the lab to advise me on a case.”

  “Oh, of course, I should have guessed. Your license is in order, though you understand that while the company is willing to cooperate in any criminal case, the lab personnel are not currently on-site. Today, they’re attending an event. If you’d like, I can schedule an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.”

  The man kept turning his Holox on and off constantly, giving the illusion that he was the one who knew everything.

  “Oh, I see.” Rachel shifted her tone and started playing with the lapels of the slim man’s white suit. “You seem good—very good—with information. Do you think you could help me with a few questions?”

  The stoicism in the man’s face briefly faded, and a flush crept into his cheeks. She wasn’t the first to sweet-talk him, but Rachel knew very well the extent of her own charm.

  “Um… of course, miss. If I can be of help, I will do everything in my power.” He only stammered a little—perfect. He’d stay useful.

  “Do you know if anyone at this company ever met Miss Priscila Boiko? She was twenty-two years old, brown-haired, short, a little Eastern European, a little…”

  “Oh, yes, yes,” the man interrupted, “I have a record of someone with that name and age from about three years ago. It’s not classified, but I must admit it’s strange—many details are missing from her file. She applied for a job as a beta-tester during an open campaign, but I’m afraid she didn’t make it past the first selection round. Perhaps that’s why Human Resources didn’t bother completing her file. Obviously, we have her personal data thanks to the hyperforums, but there’s no assigned project or any mention of the names of the program’s managers.”

  Exactly the kind of information that conveniently always disappeared whenever there were accidents or negligence. The Patrick she remembered would have found this a year ago. She hated corporations. He would have investigated them, even if they had no reason to suspect anything at the time.

  “Oh, thank you so much.” A small, stupid smile, just enough to make him feel important. Now she needed something else, but she wouldn’t ask him about the nanomachines.

  “Well then, if I may ask, what kind of event has the lab staff so occupied?”

  The man swallowed hard.

  “Well, no harm in telling you—they’re at the Vivaldi Hotel, attending a party in honor of the retirement of our head of research, Mo Kumar.”

  “Oh, and you weren’t invited? What a shame. Sounds like something a girl from Old City like me would love to see.”

  She upped the game—unbuttoning his suit jacket, brushing his torso by accident.

  “Well, actually… I was. My shift ends in an hour. I wasn’t planning to go—it’s kind of embarrassing, but my partner canceled last minute…”

  "Got you, skinny. You're one of the adorable ones."

  “Oh, that’s a shame. You know, I have nothing planned until my morning appointment tomorrow—which means I’m free for, well… the whole night.”

  “If… if you’d like, I can take you to the party.”

  “Really? How kind. I’ll be back in an hour—while I decide what to wear.”

  She made a change in the application, letting her host watch as the high collar of her corset vanished, returning to the deep neckline she usually wore. When she was certain he wouldn’t back out, she left the building, walking with a soft sway—something she had mastered. It never looked entirely intentional. She left them wondering, "Is she seducing me… or not?"

  Rachel had no patience—she could wait a night to see the nerds or intercept them somewhere they’d be drinking. She wouldn’t need to identify herself and could use her best tricks.

  Besides, she really needed some luck tonight. Skinny wasn’t bad, but if she found something better…

  Near the parking lot, she’d find a bathroom—the perfect place to pick out an outfit. For what she had planned, maybe being in public wasn’t ideal, even if there weren’t many people around.

  She found it, indeed. She focused on the menu and chose a tight red dress—a timeless style, sure to match the city’s fashion trends, based on what she’d seen.

  She wanted to look in the mirror to watch the transformation.

  Were her lips painted black?

  She blinked incredulously a few times while she stared at her reflection.

  No—her lips were a deep crimson, the color she had applied earlier that afternoon before heading to the Fitz. Maybe she had made a mistake, or imagined it—since it had fit so well with her previous outfit.

  The transformation finished. Impossibly high heels, a brilliant dress, perfectly fitted to her entire body, a low-cut neckline—nothing would escape, but it would look like it might. Everything in a red made to stand out.

  Her coat had turned into a perfectly matching purse. Carrying things wasn’t her style, but she could fit her baton in it. She even managed to create jewelry and accessories with class, giving off the perfect illusion of gold—from the necklace that fell perfectly on her sternum, subtly guiding the gaze, to the bracelets and hoop earrings in flawless golden circles.

  She kept the gloves—stashed them in her purse, just in case she needed them to avoid leaving traces or sweat marks on surfaces.

  She took them off, then arched an eyebrow.

  Had she painted her nails earlier today?