[Original Novel] The Erasure of Asherah, Part 11

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Enforcers. But whose? I could’ve been more discreet. Could’ve bounced around a little, swapped bodies on the mainland before visiting Dad. I like to think I’m slick, but this isn’t my first sloppy mistake. The last one, leaving those prosthetics behind when I jacked that volo, landed me in prison.

I made so many enemies with that stunt, it’s impossible to guess who sent them. I doubt they’ll be satisfied to ask around the stead, then leave empty handed. They don’t know about Dad, but what about Alejandro?

I double checked that the call was encrypted. Dad’s not the savviest guy when it comes to information security, but he also didn’t just fall off the turnip truck either. “Cooperate with them” I instructed. “Do whatever they want. Don’t sweat it if they trash the place, I’m working on something new that will pay for it many times over.”

He seemed less than comforted. “Come on now, none of that nonsense. I thought you were going to stay out of trouble. At least, the really high stakes stuff. Why don’t you get back into racing? You know I love to hear about your races. Back in my day, I used to hoon around the back streets at night, and drag race against gas bikes on the local strip. People called me the Electric Demon!”

“Which people, Dad?” He fidgeted. “Oh, you know. People.” I sighed. “It was just you, wasn’t it Dad. You called yourself the Electric Demon.” Exasperated, he put one hand on his hip and turned the camera towards the window with the other.

“ANYways, I dunno if you can see them from here, but this is what happens when you get in too deep. I hate sounding like a broken record, but I don’t want to see your mugshot on the news ever again. Don’t think I don’t appreciate everything you did for me, but I’m also not blind to what it cost you, and I never asked you to throw yourself on the gears for my sake.”

Behind him I could just make out some sort of large electric VTOL. The side panel was folded down revealing an interior similar to what I’ve seen in various military troop transports. The fullmetals standing guard were indeed worryingly current, sporting designs unlike anything I’ve seen before.

“I can still come back. Should I come back?” He shook his head vigorously, a loose bolt coming off in the process. “That would only make things worse. If they think we were hiding you, it’s not just you they would punish.”

He said that as if helping me hide wasn’t exactly what he’d done. I teared up, this time thankful for the ability to. He’s always stuck his neck out for me, though I never asked. I inherited all of his bad habits growing up, I must’ve picked up a few of the good ones in the process.

“Hang tight” he advised. “Don’t worry about me. Find a dark, cozy hole in Shenzen, crawl into it and wait to hear from me.” I actually had apartment listings up in an adjacent window already, the ones in my price range only loosely fitting the definition of a dwelling.

I heard some muffled offscreen shouting. He nervously glanced over his shoulder, then reached toward the camera and ended the call. Don’t worry about him, he says. How am I supposed to do that?

With any luck those goons didn’t have any firm lead, they just knew I’d gotten out of prison today, then taken an air taxi out to sea. Probably Dad’s stead was one of dozens they were now busily searching, top to bottom.

“Probably.” As if I’d made any attempt at all to calculate the probability rather than just comforting myself. Dad’s tougher than I am though, and nearly as slippery. If shit gets too hot for him to handle, he’ll take the necessary steps. That much I felt sincerely certain of.

I returned my attention to the apartment listings, as much to distract myself as to narrow down my housing options upon landing. Everything I could find was subdivided to a nearly insulting extent.

Apartments that would barely qualify as studios in the US were subdivided by felt coated particle board walls into two, sometimes three sub-dwellings. Each of them only large enough for a bed, a mini-fridge and a few other necessities.

I’d be sharing one bathroom with the rest of the floor, then...assuming there’s even a dedicated bathroom for each floor. I filtered the listings for street level access and indoor motorcycle storage, anticipating that I’d want to get two wheels under me again asap.

That set of criteria returned only one listing. Suits me, everything’s easier when there’s only one choice. Chinese voting works that way too. I shot the glorified slumlord who published the listing an email with a lowballed offer for the first month’s rent and move-in fee.

I got a full paragraph of profanity back a few minutes later, followed by a reminder that there was already a steep discount for the first month’s rent, and any other promotional offers I might find on their website do not stack.

That left only one direction to go in. Even so-called meat lockers, just exactly big enough for the minimum tracking area of popular VR headsets plus a mattress and mini fridge, are out of my price range. Looks like I’ll be living in a shoebox.

We’ve got residorms stateside, basically the same thing but with a variety of amenities built right into the self-cleaning plastic shell. The room I chose doesn’t even come with a lightbulb. Free air, though.

While submitting the deposit and first month’s rent, I was distracted somewhat by an annoying crunching sound. I opened my eyes to discover Remble eating dried jellyfish candies out of one of those metallic foil bags that makes unbearable crinkling noises when you so much as look at it.

“Oh, sorry. Is this bothering you? Or did you want one?” One of the slender, spider-like robotic arms connected to his wheeled carrier tentatively offered me a bite. I waved him off, jellyfish is one of those flavors everybody but me seems to like.

Probably because I do my best to ignore commercials, and jellyfish based foods only became so popular because of all the government money poured into promoting them as a means of thinning out the jellyfish blooms which increasingly dominate the sea.

It’s sobering that something as frivolous as fast food and candy advertisements, which sway the fickle tastes of consumers, can have such a profound impact on which species flourish...and which are driven to extinction.

Belly full of pizza, feeling overwhelmed by thoughts of Dad holding his own back on the stead, I drifted off to sleep. Only dark, swirling shapes at first, accompanied by anxious feelings.

Then...a point. Nothing more. A single solitary one dimensional dot, in a barren #808080 void. “I exist” I thought, soon realizing I was one in the same with the point.

Just as abruptly, a second point extruded from me, creating a line. Infinitely thin, with only the property of length to describe it. All I’d done was feel cramped, and wish to stretch.

A third point extruded from me, forming a triangle. Now with quantifiable surface area instead of just length, I grew more and more fully realized with each passing minute.

I strained myself and focused. Yet another point extruded from me. A tetrahedron now, truly three dimensional. I couldn’t say why, but it felt like I’d crossed a monumental threshold.

With practice I was soon able to add points in a more deliberate way, slowly sculpting a wireframe body for myself. Just enough that I had clearly defined arms, legs, a torso and a head.

No sooner than I’d wished for something to stand on, there was a ground plane beneath me and gravity to adhere me to it. How? It all came so easily.

Every individual element necessary to define my basic shape and a world for it to navigate was being generated by my simple desire to grow, and explore.

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 12!}