The gentle synthjazz playing over the speakers of the grocery is giving me a headache due to the extended autotune trumpet solo combined with the bright white lights overhead. I lean heavily on the cart in the middle of the aisle, staring at the man coming towards Mel and me. If he tells me to move, I’m going to fight him. I’m a simmering grouch-filled wound on the world today. Anger held by a razor thin string that’s ready to snap.

  At the last moment, I relax. None of it is worth it, and I move the cart behind Mel. She leads us past the man, neither one ever the wiser to my failed plan. Another moment of daydream ruined. God, grocery shopping is boring. Az blinks a steady green from the bot station on the cart and continues his slow roll through the grocery, blissed out on the minor vibrations.

  My cane, propped up inside the cart by a jug of pea mylk, hits the man in the shoulder. It slides from the cart and ricochets off the floor. A staccato drum beat that adds nothing to the music. The man stares. I stare back, daring him to say something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t have to. The pity is written plain on his face.

  “Oopsies,” Mel says and picks up the cane. She twirls it like a circus performer and apologizes to the man. The cane ends up back in the cart, next to the mylk, to attack someone else. “Where did they move the olives to?”

  “Aren’t they by the salad dressing?” I ask, jerking my thumb to the next aisle over.

  “Are they?” Mel puts her hands on her hips. “Why would they put them there?”

  “Because grocery stores are realms of chaos.”

  Mel rolls her eyes. I shrug. She walks away without a word, and, leaning on the cart, I follow. She’s too fast and leaves me in her wake as the cadmium tiles slip into chartreuse. The walls follow suit, transitioning through a rainbow, all punctuated by the too happy jingle of some song masquerading as pop. It’s no better than the synthjazz. I lose her around the corner of a lime tinted aisle. The one where the olives should be.

  “Christ, Mel,” I say, almost running into her. She isn’t by the olives at all. Mel stopped by the aisle entrance.

  “Have you called the doctor?”

  “Why would I do that?” I ask, maneuvering around her. She falls in step with me and links her arm through mine so that we form a lumbering beast clad in yellow and blue.

  Mel flicks the cane.

  “It’s a bad week,” I grumble. “It’ll pass.”

  Not a straight up lie. It very well may, and things won’t end up as bad as I fear.

  “Jaqs—”

  “No,” I say, tone forceful. I don’t want this conversation at the grocery. “Pick your olives.”

  Mel gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

  “It’s what keeps me interesting,” I say. It was supposed to come out as a joke, but I missed the mark, judging by Mel’s flat expression.

  “What time is your quick date with Evangline?” Mel asks.

  “In like half an hour,” I say, glancing at my holo.

  Mel selects a jar of olives. Their neon green bodies jostle against their glass cage. “How is she by the way?”

  “Are you asking about my potential love life over olives?”

  “Are you deflecting with olives?” Mel counters.

  Az, still blissed out, does not come to my defense. Traitor.

  “She’s good,” I answer. “We’re doing well. Taking things slow.”

  Mel tilts her head towards the registers and falls in step with me. “This isn’t the date, is it?”

  “No, a quick meeting. She says she has someone to trade the sign to.” Another almost lie that makes me wince. This conversation is getting dangerous for my promise to never lie to her. I wouldn’t mind Mel being aware of my dealings with Prism, but I don’t want her to mention something to Gen. She would be mad at me as a friend, and I’m not sure what she would do as my employer. Her temper isn’t something to be messed with.

  Against all odds, a check-out station has no line. Mel places the groceries on the conveyor belt, and the bar code scanner rings them up. A bot places each object within a flamingo pink algae bag, the store’s logo slapped on the side in electric orange.

  Mel slides her holo over the terminal.

  “You sure?” I ask.

  “I got it. I didn’t get that new job for you to pay for everything.”

  I screw up my face. “I don’t mind taking care of you with groceries and stuff, Mel. You help me a lot.”

  She places a bag in the cart. “And as you help me when I’m not doing well, I’m helping you with this. The funeral parlor pays me well. It’s not an issue.”

  I say nothing and grab the bag containing the olives. The receptionist job at the funeral parlor, Mel’s most recent job, works better with casting calls. It’s not a job I ever foresaw Mel taking. But she’s had it for a week and is enjoying it. She hasn’t mentioned wanting to quit, at least.

  “Have you heard back about the casting call? The one with that southern accent?” I ask, leading us towards the doors.

  “Soon, then I’ll have something positive to tell my mom when she visits.”

  “Two days from now, right?”

  “Yeah,” Mel replies, voice soft and wistful.

  A rare sunny day meets us outside the grocery’s sliding doors. It blinds me, and I scramble for the sunglasses hanging from my shirt.

  The world darkens as I place them on. I suck in a breath and trap it within my lungs for the mounting panic to strangle it.

  Across the street is the person in pink.

  They’re in blinding purple today with a matching bad wig, but there’s no mistaking them for anyone else. Hard to when they’re staring right at me. I grit my teeth, anger boiling through my veins.

  “Mel, take Az to the e-car. I’ll be back.” I shove my bag into her hands.

  “What?” she asks.

  Ignoring the pain in my hip and leaving my cane behind, I run. I whip across the sidewalk and through the parallel-parked cars. I push through the stabbing knives in my hip. The person in purple bolts.

  “Wait!” I shout. My feet hit the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and I turn after them, pushing past two older women who are taking up the whole path. I veer past the businessman enveloped in his call and through the glaring neon of a restaurant’s sidewalk ad.

  The person in purple pulls away, their body not betraying them like mine.

  No. I need answers to why they’re stalking me.

  My breath rasps in my lungs.

  God dammit.

  I pull a breath in through my teeth and demand more from my legs. They scream in agony, taxed to their limits. Fatigue and pain will do that. But I refuse to give up.

  “Hey!” I shout. “Get back here!”

  A few people coming out of a small shop pull back and stare. Their gasps fuel me up the small incline, but it’s a losing battle. My lungs are shredding air between pointed teeth. My hip is shooting pain up into my spine and down my leg. Both knees are vices around the muscles on either side. And my heart is racing far too fast for the little running I’ve done. It’s not even that I’m out of shape.

  I’m out of a healthy body.

  At the top of the hill, I slow to a stop, blackness swallowing my vision and threatening to pull me to the cold ground. I gasp for breath after breath. Try to demand that my lungs work and curse myself for the three cigs a day that aren’t helping the situation.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Blackness pulls back from my vision and leaves me wanting. The person in purple is nowhere to be seen. I lost them, and my chance to figure out who they are and what they want.

  Dammit.

  I straighten, not even realizing my hands had gone to my knees.

  Stupid. That was such a stupid thing to do. I’m in no condition to be chasing after someone. Worse of all, I left Mel and Az behind with no explanation.

  A bright blue e-car pulls up next to me. The door opens, and there’s Mel, with Az hooked up to the console. He’s blinking a terrible, angry red. Whether that’s at my absence or because the car is stopped illegally, I’m not sure, but it shoots straight into my heart to awaken guilt’s tendrils. They slink through my mind, wrapping around every thought.

  “Jaqs, what the hell?” Mel asks, a scowl etching lines into her face. Her voice is sharp and fierce, a rare thing coming from her. It sinks in like poison. The guilt grows fat on it.

  I duck into the e-car, still gasping, and close the door. “I’m sorry I…”

  There’s no way to finish the sentence. Telling her that someone was following me would worry her, and I do so much of that; I don’t want to add to it. Plus, she has her own worries. She hasn’t said that she’s anxious about getting the part, but she’s been cleaning the unit non-stop and has replanted three of her plants. The chaotic energy will get worse with her mother’s visit approaching until it boils over to Mel cleaning the bathroom grout to occupy herself.

  “That person looked like an old acquaintance,” I say under Mel’s hot gaze. Better not to worry her.

  “And you thought tearing after them and leaving Az and me behind was the best idea?”

  “At the time? Yes.” I already half-lied to her twice. I’m not going to do it again.

  A withering sigh breaks through Mel’s tightened lips. “What the hell is with you?”

  I lick my lips and rub my head. “Sorry, I’m trying to find the new normal.”

  Mel slouches down in the seat, her coat an orange growth against the frost of the seat. “Enter the meeting location into Az before we get a ticket.”

  I do as she orders, allowing us both some quiet time to gather ourselves. Az pulls the e-car into traffic and, on his own volition, selects gentle vaporwave for the drive. It’s smart on his part. He’s aware it calms both of us down. Az’s core light switches from a toxic red to a soft green while we drive. That helps as well.

  Mel and I say nothing the whole drive. We both need the time to reset.

  Az pulls into the parking lot for the park and kills the music along with the car. Mel’s anger, quick as a flash fire, has burned itself out.

  She exits the car first and offers me her hand. I cradle Az in one arm and allow Mel to lead me to the back of the car. She hands me my cane and takes the neon sign Gen traded to me.

  “I’m carrying this. You worry about yourself,” Mel says, hoisting the sign higher.

  “Sure.”

  No argument from me. I don’t want her mad at me long term. I shuffle Az and the cane into positions where neither will fall and send Evangeline a message asking where she is. In response, she shines a bright pink beacon from her holo. It disappears feet above her head, but works well enough for us to find her. Like in the grocery, Mel leads the way across the mottled green and brown grass towards a copse of mauve trees.

  Evangeline waits on a cement park bench. The fountain behind her sends us well wishes in its trickling chime. Evangeline greets us with a wave. She’s wearing a bright pink sweater and electric blue jeans. It’s a cute look.

  “Hello. Who is this?” Evangeline asks, getting up.

  “This is Mel, she or her pronouns, and my roommate,” I answer.

  Mel offers her hand, and Evangeline takes it. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

  “All terrible, I hope,” Evangeline says with a sharp grin.

  “But of course,” Mel replies, returning the expression.

  I breathe out a sigh. Although I hate admitting it, I’d been worried about the two of them meeting. Mel is such an important part of my life that she has to like whoever I date. Hope casts a lighthouse warning and a promise of a safe harbor through my heart.

  “Well, I came to help Jaqs with the sign. Now that I’ve seen your face, in case you murder her, I’ll be going back to the car to wait,” Mel says, voice way too chipper for her somber proclamation.

  “For fucks sake, Mel,” I grumble.

  Evangeline takes the sign with a laugh. “I promise I’m not here to murder her.”

  “That’s what a murderer would say,” Mel replies. With a wave, she heads back to the car down the hill. Evangeline smiles after her. I frown.

  “She watches too much true crime,” I say, in way of explanation. “I, for one, assume you’re not going to murder me.”

  “Well, that’s good. You’re using the cane; do you want to sit?” Evangeline asks, motioning to the bench.

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” I make my way over to the bench and lower myself onto it, inch by inch. My hip screams in discomfort, angry at me for the run. I place Az on the seat next to me. He blinks hot pink. Evangeline sits as well, leaning the sign against the bench. It fits well there against the orange. She pats Az. He blinks faster. And then faster still, to the point that I’m worried about his core light, when he sees the birds in the trees taking a quick break on their flight south.

  “Do you want to talk about the cane? We don’t have to, but I’m open to listening if you want?” Evangeline says.

  “No, I’d like to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  “Done.”

  Az blinks a rapid yellow. Excited. I follow where his core light points and discover birds huddled on the fountain. If he had either of his bodies, he’d be chasing them, begging them to land on him and be his friend. I can take a page out of his book in asking for what I want.

  I worry my lip and puff out a sigh. “Yeah, actually. I do want to talk about part of it. I saw that person again. The one dressed in pink that I asked you about. Today they were dressed all in purple, and they followed me to the store. They were waiting when Mel and I came out. I chased them, like an idiot, and now I hurt.”

  Evangeline scowls. “There’s no reason for someone to be following you.”

  “It started happening after I agreed to meet with Blake.”

  Evangeline’s scowl deepens. “I’ll ask some discreet people. Someone may have info. You sure there’s no other reason? You didn’t piss off a customer of the shop or something?”

  “I’m not that much of an asshole,” I mutter.

  Evangeline’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it—”

  “You don’t have to apologize, I do. Sorry. The pain makes my sense of humor very lacking in the correct tone,” I explain. “Thanks for the offer. That would help. I can point my worry at the right thing then.”

  A masc presenting person rides by on a sunshine yellow bike. There are others in the park as well, each group drawing the last dregs of heat from the season.

  “They’re all so carefree, aren’t they?” Evangeline asks.

  “The way society has turned out helps.” I twist my cane in my hands.

  Evangeline cocks her head. “Does it?”

  “Yes. People don’t have to worry about having a roof or food over their heads anymore. They get to do things they enjoy, live in a society that accepts them as they are, and live without a care, if they want. All while clad in brightness.”

  Evangeline shakes her head. “That’s such an odd life to me.”

  “Due to how you grew up?”

  Evangeline nods.

  I lean back on the bench and sling my arm over the back. My hand ends up mere inches from Evangeline’s shoulder. “I’ll show you all the great things you’ve been missing on our date. You’ll see.”

  Evangeline’s smile is small and distant. She stares at the grass, a crease between her brows. Jaqs, I’m not a very good person. I don’t deserve that kindness.”

  “You seem like a good person to me. Not a totally bad influence at least.” I mean the last part as a joke, but Evangeline’s serious expression remains.

  Evangeline sighs. “I brought you to Blake for my own reasons. I used your dream for a selfish act. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, I came willingly, so you can’t exactly apologize.”

  I reach over and lay my hand on hers.

  “I’d still like that date if that’s OK,” I say.

  Evangeline nods. “Yeah.”

  I’m not doing a good job at lifting her spirits. Time to change the subject.

  “What am I getting for the sign?” I ask, reluctantly pulling my hand back.

  Evangeline grins. “You’re gonna love it. I have a new, electric bike waiting to be yours after you complete Blake’s assignment.”

  Unease curdles my gut. “What’s the assignment?”

  Evangeline fishes into her pocket and pulls out an SD card. It’s captured in bright pink plastic, the lime green of the card a sickly hue within. It’s a bright beacon against the blue of the sky. “The bike comes from a jilted wife. She’s willing to trade the bike to you for the sign if you insert this card into her husband’s computer.”

  “How on earth am I supposed to do that? I’m not a super-secret spy who sneaks into people’s homes.”

  Evangeline chuckles. “We’re not asking you to be. This man is Gen’s client. He placed an order at the shop. It’s the delivery you have tomorrow. When you deliver it, come up with an excuse to access his computer, insert the card, and start the program. Easy as that.”

  The unease grows, climbing into my throat. “This was planned.”

  “A bit, yes. The wife has wanted this for a while; we were waiting for the perfect moment.”

  “Does Gen know?”

  Evangeline huffs out a laugh and shrugs. “Does it matter? She’s not involved in this trade.”

  “The wife—she doesn’t want the sign, does she? The actual trade is me inserting the SD card.” My leg jitters. This all sounds so bad.

  “Correct.”

  “And she’s willing to part with an electric bike for it? What the hell has this guy been doing?”

  Electric bikes don’t come cheap. I saved for years for Az’s convert mode, and it was by sheer luck that I found it on the used market for less cost than it should have been. For someone to trade away a brand new one jumps me straight past a couple of stages of trading up.

  Evangeline heaves in a sigh. “He’s been cheating. The wife wants sufficient proof.”

  The unease turns cold and heavy, sinking like a stone into my stomach. My teeth clench, jaw tightening. “What’s on the card?”

  “It’s an investigative program. Modern-day private eye.”

  “That’s illegal,” I hiss.

  “Semi-illegal,” Evangeline counters. “It’s in the gray zone of the Data Privacy Act. If you get caught, you’ll at most get a fine.”

  “That sort of defeats the whole purpose of doing the trades if I have to fork over cost and also lose the trade.”

  “You’re welcome to decline.”

  I scowl. We both know that’s not true. Blake will drop my contract into the deepest abyss of forget, claiming she has nothing for me while I wither and die.

  “I thought I’d be fixing bots, like the test.”

  “Usually, yes. Blake is giving you this opportunity since the payout was so great.”

  Trading for the bike almost makes my mouth water with how good it is. This is what I wanted. A way to trade to higher ticketed items to get to the ticket. Blake is fulfilling her part of the bargain.

  “The card and what it tells the wife is what she needs to secure her own future. What she means by that, I didn’t ask. I’d guess blackmail material as the man is a very successful auto mech who is running for mayor,” Evangeline explains.

  “What a lovely couple,” I deadpan. It’s worth it if we can get Evangeline free. “Are we getting anywhere with this?”

  Evangeline nods. “Blake reinstated some of my access. I’m on my way.”

  I sigh, thankful she realized what I was asking. Ever since she told me the shop was bugged, I’ve been careful with what I say. Even here, in the park, it could be dangerous to speak of our plans. Better safe than sorry.

  “Have you considered my contact?” I ask, hoping she remembers that Mel’s mom is a lawyer. “We’d have to tell Mel first.”

  Evangeline shakes her head. “No. It’s too risky. No one else can know.”

  The SD card in Evangeline’s hand is like a beacon. I want to forget all this. Find another way to help Evangeline and me, but the realistic part of me knows there is no other way. Blake outsmarted me in our meeting. I promised Evangeline I would help her, and she needs the leverage my work gives. I sold my soul for my dream. Either I accept that, or let it die.

  “What do you say, Jaqs?” Evangeline asks, holding up the card.

  “Fine, I’ll do it.” I take the SD card, fingers pulsing in pain.