Tokyo Hearts: Tokyo Hearts, #1

By Demar

Kris Aiko is a 15 year old girl living in Tokyo in the year 2047. Tokyo has become a technological mecca for the world, a vertical city with neon decked skyscrapers and soaring highways. As mega corporations buy out governments of the world, millions of people flock to Japan, one of the last vestiges of the free world.

But for Kris Aiko, life just sucks. She lives in an old sushi bar her grandpa runs in the slums. She's never had a real friend, unless you count Sumo, a little hacker geek who gets picked on even more than she does, and follows her around like a puppy. She's broke, and can't even afford the auto cars and instead takes to the streets in an old motorcycle built from junkyard scrap.

But that's all about to change...

Kris Aiko has a dream. To be a Tokyo Skyliner. These outlawed superstars make names for themselves doing Techno Graffiti on the cities biggest towers. Using Neon paint and homemade rappelling and traversal gear, these daredevils scale the largest towers and graffiti digital vandalism for the world to see. 

And Kris has got a knack for it. She's agile, full of attitude, and sick of the status quo to the point that she's willing to put it all on the line for one big job. She's planned a neon masterpiece, and will vandalize the enormous Atlantis towers on the night of its grand-opening. It's a global event, where the richest people from the city are coming, including the mysterious billionaire family who owns Atlantis Towers.

The King Family.

This family is bad to the bone, and make the Mafia look like harmless pizza delivery boys. They run Atlantis Corporation, which is the richest company on the planet, with ties to every major crime syndicate formed in the last century.

Leave it to Kris Aiko to go to their party, and vandalize their building, and embarrass them on international television.
But Kris…well. She's exactly the kind of girl who's sassy enough and good enough to pull it off. Just maybe. And make a name for herself in Tokyo as a Skyliner.

The whole idea is suicide. 

Little does she know that her life is about to go from zero to insane. But when she learns that the king Family and Atlantis Corporation is holding an ultimate secret - one dangerous enough to threaten not only Tokyo, but the entire Island of Japan - Kris Aiko has got to do something about it, and is probably the only one crazy enough to try.

The Book List
1. Tokyo Hearts
2. Tidal Hearts (TBA)
3. Neon Hearts (TBA)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Demar
• Release date: Apr 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386202691

Book preview

THE BOOK LIST

TOKYO HEARTS

TIDAL HEARTS

NEON HEARTS

1

High school is a dead-end. Skyline techno-graffiti on the other hand? Now that was something I could get into. I sat slouched in my chair and sketched my latest graffiti tag while class oozed onward.

It was the first week of the semester and unfortunately I still had two and a half years left in school. That meant thirty months’ worth of brain-sucking lectures and vomit filled food nuggets from the school cafeteria. I was already counting the time left until graduation, and the back of my locker was raked with little scratches marking the days.

Dual-modular neural monitoring, I said without looking up.

That’s right again Kris, said Professor Yoku. As usual.

The little professor had long white hair, some of which had made it into a ponytail. He looked like a Japanese version of that Einstein dude who’d died like...a hundred years ago or whatever. Except not only could Yoku melt your mind with physics jabber, but he could breakdance like a windmill sprung loose from its sprockets.

A few of the students in the room grumbled at my answer, or rather that it was I who answered yet again. If they were so tired of me answering all the questions, they should get their fat butts off their seats and say something to me. I had an itching fist that I was more than glad to feed to them if they did.

The professor continued ...not to mention, with the neuro-codification of the sapiens prefrontal cortex, Quantum Corp is redefining how nanochips could process our ideas. We’re talking actual transmission of thought. Think of it. This is augmented telepathy. Today is finally starting to look like the future.

Professor Yoku was a total techy. He was the kind of guy that if asked to, would upload his brain to an interstellar satellite and wander the universe as some sort of digitized god. Not that we could do that sort of thing yet, but scientists hot on virtual immortality thought we were close. And this class on nanoarchitectonics was a step in that direction: the melding of man and machine.

I yawned.

I’d rather do a backflip off the old Yoyogi building and paraglide through a neon Tokyo with a holster of now empty spray cans and a tag behind me. Everything glowed neon in 2047. The 80s had it right. That’s when my dad was born, and it was his generation that had started building the world after the image of old Atari videogames and 8-bit silicon dreams.

Hey thunder-pants, take off your stupid space helmet. I can’t see the board, whispered Yoshi two seats behind me.

Yoshi was the fattest brat in Tokyo. But at least he noticed my teal leggings with yellow thunderbolts. I had searched all the vintage shops in Tokyo for an entire month to find them. As for Yoshi, I had to break his nose at least once a year to keep him in check. I turned towards him, swiveling in my deathtrap called a desk, and flipped the gold visor up on my black motorcycle helmet. The bright fluorescent lights in the sterile classroom blinded me.

Take your fat face off, then we’ll talk, I hissed back at him.

I held up my sharp, but effective fist as a warning. Yoshi glared back at me when suddenly an object slammed against my helmet. The thud echoed in my ears and I spun to see who dared throw crap at me.

Do you want to die? I whispered, scanning the row of suspiciously pious students. But none of them looked at me. They knew better. A half-eaten apple with a note tacked to it lay by my foot.

Dear freak,

I lost my appetite looking at you. Please leave us alone and go back to space.

Sincerely,

Me and Everybody

I crumbled the note and took the apple into my hand. I knew the handwriting well, and wasn’t about to let my assailant escape unpunished. When Professor Yoku turned to the board I snapped my gold visor down.

Mori was going to die.  I’d see to it.

I spun and hucked the apple at him like a planet launches orbital comets. But I missed, and instead hit Kimi square on her beautiful left eye. She screamed and Mori leapt from his chair to save the girl he loved.

Kris Aiko! Yoku spun and glared at me. If we could all just behave ourselves...I might consider actually letting the class out early today.

The class snapped to at that. It was Friday and they were all eager to run home to their rich and pathetic lives. As for myself, I knew where I’d be.

And Kris, if you could please remove your helmet while in my class. It can be a bit...distracting.

I sighed and tugged the helmet off to reveal my recently cut hair. The students snickered.

"She’s a boy!" somebody whispered.

Snickers all around. I ignored them all while I opened up my judgment journal and began recording notes:

Yoshi: 4:01 PM. Aggravation and assault...punishment: seven lashes.

Mori: 4:02 PM. Being a dick...punishment: katana groin removal.

Kimi: Ongoing...being beautiful...death by sushi.

I sighed and straightened my legs out in front of me. Nobody sat by me, well except Sumo, but he didn’t count. There was a circle of empty desks around us as if we’d landed from Mars and like a meteor, left a crater all around us.

But it had been like that as long as I could remember. Ever since I was a little girl, it didn’t matter how hard I tried to fit in, the world was eager to shun me. It didn’t help that I had heterochromia iridum: one blue eye and one gold.

When I was seven, I wore little star-shaped sunglasses I found in the dumpster to hide my...diseased eyes, but that only worked for so long—until one of the elites in class stole them from me and flushed them down the toilet. I cried like a baby. But I learned my lesson then. I never tried to fit in again. That was also about the time I started keeping my judgment journals.

Hey thunderbolt, Yoshi whispered behind me. I felt his greasy hand pull on my hair, which wasn’t easy to do considering how short it was. Seriously, I can smell you from here.

That was hardly an insult considering I worked at my grandpa’s sushi bar. Every. Freaking. Day. Unfortunately, grandpa’s bar didn’t glow, or any of his sushi. He was old school like that.

Why didn’t you just cut off your entire head with your hair, you stinky sushi roller. he asked.

You know I can skin a piranha with my eyes closed. Imagine what I could do you, fat face. I didn’t turn to look at him. I drew a hard straight line over my note-less pages. I brought a dull knife...

I detested chubby Americans like him. Kids whose parents fled the U.S. when Google bailed out the government with big hopes of being the big brother. It had been one of the finest corporate takeovers yet. If only I had the cash to fly over there and do some graffiti on endless miles of abandoned skyline.

You suck, he said.

I briefly imagined flipping into the air and cracking his skull open with diamond tipped go-go boots, but I lacked both the boots and the flipping ability...thing. Instead I bristled until I felt another tap on the shoulder.

It was Sumo. His huge goggle-eyed glasses bobbled as he shook his head.Don’t do it, he said through silent lips.

Sumo’s nickname was ill-fitting considering his miniature size. But the name came from when his father, worried about Sumo’s little stature, signed him up for sumo wrestling lessons. Two fractured arms and a broken heart later and his father had let him quit the league. The name stuck though.

Don’t do what? Kill him? I said.

We’ve got a job tonight, Sumo whispered. We can’t afford detention.

No bars can hold me.

Yoshi whispered profanities into my ear then slapped the back of my head. I grabbed his wrist and turned to face him. Silently we struggled while Professor Yoku droned on and on—

...it won’t be long before silicon microchips are strung together in such a way as to mimic the actual physiology of a brain. We’d all be quantum capable beings. Can you imagine? Being able to think two thoughts at once? Or a hundred for that matter? While Darwin had it right about natural evolution he never could have dreamed of the digital evolution.

Yoshi was bigger than me and eventually was able to pull me out of my chair. My desk flipped out from under me and I flopped onto the white tile floor like a fish. Yoshi squealed delightfully and sat back at his desk with his hand over his mouth.

Kris! The professor looked at me. Will you have a word with me after class?

My cheeks burned red with embarrassment. And that pissed me off more than anything. Show no pain. The classroom giggled as I got back in my desk and rubbed the new bruise on my knee. Three months ago I counted all the bruises on my body that came from either being picked on or picking fights. There were thirty-two. I stood naked in front of my mirror, looked at my small and pathetic body, and cried. I decided then that the world didn’t want me, and enough was enough.

So I cut my hair. And it was short, shorter than most the boys’. Long hair was a curse though. It didn’t matter what direction the wind blew, my hair would always wrap around my face and try to kill me at the most inopportune times, like when I was cutting down the highway at 100 MPH for instance. And if I was going to die it would be on my own terms.

Sumo watched Professor Yoku carefully then glared at me before handing me a small folded paper with a thick bundle in it. On it, it read: Private Correspondence: Kris

He was like that. Always making things official. He even signed his name in Kanji down the right side and dated it, though his actual name wasn’t Sumo. But he was an outcast like me, a digital lone star, a hacker. And he had been planning our next hit for weeks now. I still had bruises from the last.

My palms got sweaty when he handed me the note. Our crew was still inexperienced, and small. So far we numbered two, and on nights when Sumo was too sick to hit the town, just me.

I hardly noticed a spit wad hit me in the back of the head. It happened daily and was part of the reason I started wearing my motorcycle helmet to class—that and it looked awesome. And with my leggings and white sweater I was like a black-tipped thunderbolt crashing through a cloud.

The death wishes behind me snickered. I sometimes wondered why these students were as nasty as they were. My grandpa told me it was because they had low self-esteem.

But I knew better.

They were spoiled brats; elites I called them. The thin upper crust. And I was just a poor freckled Japanese girl who lived in a wall behind a dilapidated sushi bar in the slums of Tokyo. Not to mention my likely up-and-coming orphanization. It wasn’t my grandpa’s fault he would turn one hundred and two years old today.

My freckles came from my European mom, and my slightly upturned nose too. Thanks mom. And my squinty eyes and scrawny limbs came from my little Japanese dad. Gee thanks. I was a mess. But I had decided years ago, when other girls started wearing training bras and putting on makeup, that I wasn’t going to try to blend in with the herd. The makeup never could cover my freckles without making it look like I smeared mud all over my face, and as for the bra, well... I had nothing to train. Still didn’t.

Whatever, I didn’t need anything throwing me off balance when I was climbing towers and tagging corporate property anyway. Stick it to the man was my mantra, and bullies never got too close unless they wanted one of my sharp fists in their jugular.

I wiped my head off and tried to bite my lip until class got out. I was anxious to leave too. It was Friday, and for our shift, the last school day of the week. Yoku was having an increasingly difficult time controlling the classroom, and occasionally turned around to throw chalk at offending students. He had a never-ending arsenal of the missiles.

I could hear whispers as those around me talked about tonight’s dance. It was going to be a 2020s themed neo-electronica club crasher. I secretly would have died to go. But nobody asked me. And were it not for the stupid social expectation of having a date, I would have showed up alone and danced a hole to the center of the earth.

Oh well. I’d never had a date and probably never would—not in this high school anyway. The elites would make sure of that. Unfortunately I lived right on the outskirts of a wealthy district and had been thrown in with the gilded buffoons. My grandpa was poor as dirt, which had never bothered me until high school, when I was forced to sit by kids wearing clothes that cost more than my upbringing.

It didn’t help that they were all so beautiful, in a very artificial, face on a billboard sort of a way. Money could buy anything and their priorities were focused on their vanity. They all had perfectly smooth faces that glistened like plastic, and big white teeth that gnashed and chomped when they laughed.

Just as I began opening Sumo’s note, the class bell rang. I swear somebody had dug that thing out of a nuclear bunker. It was like a siren that split your guts open every time it went off. The entire classroom jumped up and wrestled their way out of the room—except Sumo and me.

I’ll call after my next class, he said as he stood and slung his backpack over him. He pointed to the little package he’d given me. Don’t lose this.

He was one of those kids that carried everything he owned in a bag that went everywhere with him. Like a big turtle. For all I knew he slept in his backpack. His huge headphones and homemade glasses made him look like a blast from the past. Real retro. Like all those stupid hipsters in the 10s. They even made the 1970s look productive, if that were possible.

Sumo didn’t trust anything corporate, and so he had built his glasses from dumpster scraps and old phone parts. The lenses on them were more like screens and if he wasn’t dancing by himself when he thought no one was watching, he was surfing the net with his eyes and hacking into some forbidden site or other.

Ms. Aiko, a word with you please?

Yoku grabbed the note Sumo had given me and motioned for me to follow him. I looked at him and thought about growling, but he’d probably only growl back.

If he even mentioned detention I was going to club him to death. Sumo and I had a high priority sting tonight, and nothing was going to keep us from it.

2

As I followed Professor Yoku to his office, I slipped the drawing I had been working on into my back pocket and adjusted my hooded sweater. My sweater was white with a single red triangle on the back that transformed into a skull at night. The logo glowed too. Sumo had hacked it for me.

Have a seat Kris, Yoku said.

His office was adjacent to the classroom and was filled with old junk any physicist might be expected to horde: old ‘smart’ phones so big they bulged in your pockets, computers the size of books, and those stupid magnet balls that swung against each other. No brainiac was complete without a set of those.

I’m concerned, Yoku said, about your studies. He clasped his hands and placed his finger on his lips.

Why? I know this stuff better than anybody, I said.

Yes...but you are failing. Your test scores are...well, what did you intend with this?

Yoku wiped his wall and projected up my last exam. I folded my arms and slumped back in my seat trying to hide a laugh. It was some of my best work.

You had this first question all right, then the second half finished...and then. Well, it just sort of falls apart doesn’t it?

I smiled and leaned closer to the wall to see the detail of the graffiti tag I’d drawn. It was supposed to be more edgy than the others with sharp corners and black shadows behind the blue letters. It read: Eat the Top. I doubt any normal person could read it though. Graffiti was a sort of secret code that only those who were in could decipher. And it was hot.

Look, believe me when I say that I’m all for extracurricular activities...even if they are a bit dubious. But if you fail out of my class you’ll be stuck here another year.

No, please no. I’d die. And that was hardly sarcasm. Either from boredom or bully beatings, school would kill me.

I know. Yoku tapped the parcel from Sumo in his hands. And dropping out isn’t exactly the best alternative. Is it? It would be a waste of what’s up here. Yoku tapped my head with the same parcel. Which is what I’ve brought you in here for. Have you heard of the C.E. Exams?

That stood for Corporate Exams. Normal fish like me called them the Crappy Elite Exams. Of course I’d heard of them, but I’d never considered them. They were reserved for the children of wealthy elites. To boost them ahead and get them moving on to better things—if working in an office sucking the souls out of people could be considered such.

I could never afford them, I said. That was another thing. Everything cost money these days, especially opportunity.

Never mind the money, Yoku said. That sort of thing works itself out. But I think you should study for them. Finish your courses this year, and I can arrange classes to have you prepared to test as a junior. You’d be out a year early, and who knows? Some fund might pick you up.

I scratched my head. Some fund? That was code for being a slave to some finger-licking prick in a jumpsuit and working sixteen-hour days. But then again I could get my own place. And who knows? Maybe they’d hire me on as some sort of elite-corporate-saboteur.

Think about it, Yoku said. But not too long. You’ve got the brains for it. You just lack the vision.

Yoku watched me staring blankly back at him and knew the wall was up. With a sigh he handed me Sumo’s note and flicked his hand for me to go.

My next class was a lab on genomics. I was fascinated by the topic of it as portrayed in the movies, which is why I signed up for it: cloning, gene modding, trait splicing, and the general idea that I could make a monster pet panda bear that glowed in the dark and killed traffic cops with retractable blades.

But the class sucked. Instead of learning how to play as gods, we counted RNA strands and were tortured with lectures on molecular diagnostics and genome mapping. Today we were taking a sample of ourselves to get a report on our personal genomes.

The samples are taken easiest from your blood, Professor Gaia said. She was young and agitated looking. Like a coed who had graduated before getting her wiggles out only to realize that real life sucked and was boring. But if you’re squeamish, you can use some of your hair. You have an hour to complete today’s lab, which is more than enough time as you’re only prepping a few good samples of yourself. The real fun starts when we start running diagnostics on your own genes.

She mentioned the word fun with about the same enthusiasm that a lion in the zoo licks its crotch. The class moaned when she mentioned the actual work we’d be doing.

Don’t worry, you won’t do it all. You have over three billion base pairs running your DNA from start to finish, of which you will discover only a couple on your own. Your complete genome will be completed on the system, and at the end of the semester we will furnish you a report.

That was the last thing I wanted: a thirty page report written in chem-talk that explained in explicit detail all my imperfections and quirks. I was well enough aware without it. Professor Gaia clapped her hands twice and the class whirred into motion.

Everybody began plucking their delicate hairs with a considerable amount of whimpering. Not me. I wanted blood. Big drops of it.

There are pins in your lab bundle to prick your fingers with. Do not share them, Professor Gaia said.

I saw the pin, but went for the scalpel. I sat alone on a long bench and minded my own business as I decided which of my fingers I’d need least for our hit tonight. I was deciding on my left pinky when I heard a group of boys laugh like boys do when they are trying to be obnoxious and pretending they don’t want people to watch them. I scanned the bench where three of them sat huddled together, obviously about to make trouble for somebody. Probably me. Among them was Ryu.

I hated Ryu like the sun hates the moon. He was the only reason I hadn’t dropped the class and it drove me crazy. I was never sure if I wanted to jump on him and lick his face dry like a horny hyena or stab him in the back with an ice pick. I slouched down lower in my chair and tried to watch him without being seen.

He was cute. Too cute. But what gave me boy fever were his muscles that flexed even when he’d do the smallest things like itch his nose or put his hands behind his head. His tank top and occasional butt-tight joggers didn’t help either. I didn’t even mind his makeup and plucked eyebrows.

Ms. Gaia? Connor said. He was sitting in the group with Ryu. I’m having trouble sterilizing my sample...is this right?

Ryu and Mark ducked behind the console to laugh, while Connor fumbled over the alcohol and cotton swabs at the desk.

Can you help me?

Professor Gaia gave him a suspicious look, but stood up from her chair and walked over. She had barely made it to his table when she raised her hand to slap him as he jumped off of his stool.

Ms. Gaia! Abuse! Connor hopped around the room with his fly down while the pile of freshly plucked pubes scattered over his desk. The class burst out laughing, not because they knew what he had done, but because they liked Connor. I hid a laugh myself.

Connor was a perv, and I could tell by Professor Gaia’s smirk that she had seen more than her fair share of him. He had been seducing teachers and school nurses since he was old enough to stand up. That he was a naughty rabbit was made obvious by the slight bubbling of skin behind his ears. Nothing major, but an STD I didn’t want. I generally tried to avoid anything that could potentially morph into the zombie apocalypse. Which was another reason I kept to myself...entirely. Not that a boy had ever tried anything on me anyway. Or a girl for that matter.

As Connor sat back down, Ryu caught me staring at him. The smile disappeared from his face as though I’d just stunned him with a cattle prod. His expression was one I couldn’t discern. Disgust? Embarrassment that somebody as gross as me looked at him? My freckles burned as he turned away.

Connor: 4:51 PM. Indecent exposure...punishment: three groin kicks.

Ryu ...punishment: banishment.

By the time lab ended I had three sterilized samples of my precious blood and white gauze wrapped around my pinky. Professor Gaia, with her lustful glances towards Connor and his gang, slowly gathered the Petri dishes on a cart and excused the class to leave.

Geez, did you murder yourself? Simi said. Her friends laughed as they pushed by me into the halls and knocked my helmet out of my hands.

The hall was so crowded I had to shove my way through by my elbows. Not that as I was complaining—I liked using them that way. But that was another thing about Tokyo—it was one giant stymied sardine can that you always felt at the bottom of. Maybe that’s why I loved graffiti tagging. It got me up the buildings, where I could actually feel the breeze and see Tokyo bay. Once I had even seen a star...either that or an exploding weather balloon.

The hallways of the school were a gauntlet of corporate muck and ad campaigns. Just one wrong look and you’d be signed up to get junk mail for the rest of eternity, or worse, wind up with a bill for some overseas carbon offsets you didn’t mean to buy. But that was modern Tokyo: everything was for sale and economics were the law.

As I neared my locker, I saw that boy I hated and loved so much. Ryu was tall enough that it was impossible for him to blend in a crowd. Which I hated because it meant I always knew where he was. He was a prick when with Connor and Mark, but everybody loved him because he was sort of a puppy dog too. And from what I heard he was the life of the party.

I wouldn’t have hated him so much if I could have watched him from afar, but the problem was, his locker was right next to mine.

3

I ducked my head as I stepped up to my locker and fumbled for the combination. I missed having long hair that would hang over my face and hide me at times like this. Ryu stood to my left with his locker open. No Connor or Mark in sight.

Just as I kicked my locker open, Ryu’s locker slammed against it and knocked it back closed again.

Sorry, he said, grabbing his backpack with overly nervous hands. He grabbed his locker and was about to close it, but stopped and leaned into it instead.

I said nothing. My locker opened easily the second time. The white scratch marks on the back wall of my locker glowed bright as I scratched another tick through them. Only eight hundred or so to go before this school year would end.

You were supposed to use the pin not the scalpel, Ryu said.

My heart skipped. He stood facing into his locker while fitting a trucker hat over his shaggy hair. But he didn’t look at me. Was he even talking to me? Ryu had never talked to me, and if he started now I was going to kill him.

I cleared my throat but ignored him and stuffed crap into my bag...slower than usual.

Ryu swung his locker back and forth slowly and I swear I could feel him looking at me. Was he waiting for me to respond? I turned just enough to catch a glance of him through my peripherals. He turned away suddenly and closed his locker.

I hate small pokey things... I managed to say, but my voice sounded like the lunch lady’s: fat and angry.

Ryu stopped in mid turn and grinned to himself. You’d better stay away from Conner then.

I wouldn’t touch him with a twelve foot cattle prod.

Ryu laughed. That’s probably a good idea.

There was a long awkward pause and I considered running for my life...sort of.

Are you going to the dance tonight?

The words hit me like bricks. All the adrenaline fumes in me evaporated up and my mouth went dry. Dance. Dance. What dance?

It’s supposed to be crack. Some glitter’s dad set us up at the new club. Have you heard of it?

Glitters were a small minority of angelically wealthy snot bags. And yeah, I’d heard of the new club. It was next to that new high rise by Atlantis Corp. Club Tide? I said.

I heard the sound system they got was used to brainwash Nazis way back when, Ryu said.

Sick.

So are you going? With a date? Ryu wasn’t like the other elites. He had money sure, but was on the low end of the slush pile. I knew because I had seen him on the metro plenty of times. His dad was probably some disregarded trust fund baby clinging to the last of his fortune before he was gobbled to pieces by the sharks.

No, I’ve got work, I muttered.

Work? What’s that, like ripping out tuna guts?

They are already gutted when we buy them, I said. I didn’t mean to make it sound as though he’d just said the stupidest thing on the planet. But I did. I took a deep breath and watched my hands shake as I stuffed my only textbook into my bag. I never read them as I preferred the video game, and definitely wouldn’t tonight. But I had to pretend I was doing something in my locker. Maybe...

That’s too bad, he said. He threw his hat into his locker and pulled out a short jacket with orange lights on the seams. They weren’t glowing yet. I’m not sure if I’m going either though. I haven’t found a date yet...

My fluttering heart stopped dead and I knew it was time to go. Small talk was one thing. But if this was what getting asked out was like I’d rather die. I suddenly wished I had at least a little makeup on. Some eyeshadow at least. I tried to will my freckles away and hoped magically they’d suck in to my face and disappear. Despite myself, I pushed what little hair I had behind my ear.

Yeah, I managed to say, in an overly gruff tone. That wasn’t going to cut it. I love electronica, I said. Those capes were onto something.

Shattered it, he said.

I waited for as long as I could bear, but he didn’t say anything. I quickly grabbed my bike helmet and slung my backpack around my shoulder before closing my locker. My bag sagged to the ground.

See ya, I said, trying to pretend I wasn’t waiting for him to say more. Not that I could have gone with him anyway. I did have to work, and going out with a boy was like suicide. I just wasn’t ready inside.

Hey, Kris.

Ryu tapped my shoulder and pulled me out of the crowd next to his locker. He looked past me nervously and never met my eyes with his. I could see the side of his pecks through his tank top. I would usually make fun of guys who showed their jacks like that, but it was different when I stood right there with them bulging at me. I wanted to punch one to see how hard it was.

Yeah? I said. I looked just below his eyes and tried desperately to wipe the puppy dog look off my face. Ryu slung his jacket over his shoulder. He was about to say something, looked at me, then stopped whatever was about to come out. He started again.

You’re in Professor Yoku’s nanoarchitectonics class, right?

I nodded and pushed my hair behind my ear again. It was a bad habit, I was still used to long hair. I felt vulnerable without it though. If only it were there now—with a strong breeze it could cover my freckled face.

Isn’t Sora in that class?

My heart sank to the floor and exploded like a water balloon.

Yeah, I sit by her...well...sometimes. We sat by each other once. By accident. But Sora was a nice girl, and like him, wasn’t near as snobby as most the elites. She was also the figure of a goddess and slender. But with just the right amount of curves in the right places, milky cheeks, and silky black hair that hung to her waist. Her eyebrows were straight and gave her a sort of tough-girl edge.

Do you know if she’s been asked out? he asked.

Just as he spoke my ear chip beeped.

Ummm...I’m not sure, I told Ryu, but I’d better go, somebody’s calling me. Umm...good luck?

Without waiting for his response, I sprinted for the exit and felt my cheeks burn red.

Kris, can you talk?

Sumo’s voice text came through my ear chip. I did not feel like talking to anybody right now. I just wanted to get on the street and ride. Fast.

No. What’s up?

Another shift of students were coming in as I left and I held my helmet over my chest and plowed through them like a bulldozer. The sky outside was overcast; whether from pollution or actual cloud cover was hard to tell. Things were looking fairly sepia which probably meant pollution. School ran all day and all night every day of the year. I was just glad to be on the dayshift. Night was my time, when I could blend into the dark and the flashing lights and disappear.

Did you read my note yet? Sumo asked.

Just a sec.

As I reached my bike I set my helmet down and opened the package. Inside was a place, a time, and a small bracelet woven out of copper wire and computer chips from a vintage shop.

Give me your shopping list, Sumo said before I had a chance to read the note. I’m taking orders.

Shopping list? What, did you find a pile of money I’m not aware of?

We’ve got to make this job count. It might be our best chance in a while.

Good thing my pockets are full of cash— I was about to make some snarky comment about living a hairline above the poverty level when I read the note.

Wait. Am I reading this right? You want to hit Atlantis Corp!? You’re insane!

Go big or go home, Sumo said. Besides, I thought you said you wanted to hit more towers?

More towers, yeah sure. But we’ve never hit a tower before.

Gotta start somewhere.

But Atlantis Towers? That crystal idol that even God bows too? You’re nuts! My little, you’ve lost your mind.

Sumo was quiet for a while. I know it’s rape, but I just thought...we might not have another opportunity like this. To make a name for ourselves.

Do we even have a name?

I thought we decided on the Neon Dungarees.

No. We most definitely did not decide on that.

Cowboys and Indigos?

No.

The six shooters?

Seriously! What’s your obsession with cowboys?

Those guys were hardcore.

Maybe. But not even cowboys would hit Atlantis. I mean, these guys are juggernauts. They’d make sushi out of us if we got caught.

Look, it’s not that bad...maybe. Who cares, just check out this article. This is why we got to go tonight.

My wrist buzzed from the link Sumo just sent me.

I ignored it. Look, Atlantis Corp isn’t just some band of elites throwing their trust funds together to buy another sector of utilities. They’re like, like...well whatever they are is a total mystery. They’re the kind of guys you hit, then wake up in a tub filled with your own entrails.

You’re overreacting.

Am I? We don’t know where they came from, who sits on their board, or even what they sell. Do you even watch the conspiracy channel anymore? Are they human traffickers? Weapons dealers? Apocalyptic terraforming strategists?

Maybe. But that’s totally dope! And we need a bigger stage. I’m tired of selling hacked level 99 warlocks. I want to do something more...I don’t know. Meaningful.

Sumo, I have one of those level 99 warlocks though and I kick droids’ prefrontals with it. That’s meaningful. Makes me feel real good.

Thanks cheater. But how are we going to make a name for ourselves if we don’t start now? Think of Maki, she started when she was only 15. Now’s the time.

Maki was the goddess of skylining. And I worshipped her. But Atlantis Corporation? Maybe we should practice up on some more dumpsters. It’s low profile, but good practice.

No, it’s got to be tonight, check this out.

Sumo started reading the article. I reluctantly followed the link and read along with him.

"...And keeping step with all things glitter, CEO Machivus King will be hosting a grand opening cocktail party Friday night. While he was unavailable to comment, a little listening through the grapevine reveals that this shindig may just make the last British coronation look like a tea party. While footing the bill for this private invest-fest is estimated at over a whopping 200 millions dollars, the recurrent hush-hush that surrounds this mysterious conglomerate monster leaves us wondering what Atlantis really has in store. One thing is certain: take a knee Tokyo, the King is in the house. Or dare we say, Tyrant?"

So? I said as I mounted my bike and revved the engine. But I knew what he was getting at.

Kris. Tonight is their grand opening. Cameras will be there from all over the island. Atlantis Towers is going to be crawling with crack heads. Do you know what that means?

We could get a spot on national television. A thrill and goosebumps ran down my spine. I saw the vision, and I couldn’t help but grin.

Got time to program a camo-patch? I asked.

Yeah right, I’m not Gandhi. How about black spandex?

Gandhi was the greatest hacker on planet earth who nobody had ever seen or heard in person. Whether he was real or not, Sumo and I were believers.

A girl’s got to pull out the tights every now and then...I mused.

So... Sumo waited at my silence. He knew me well. He knew that when I was quiet, I was convinced. You in?

I shut the gold visor on my helmet and throttled the engine.

What do we need?

4

"Serious? Sumo said. Yes! I knew you’d be up for it, watch out Maki, the new kids are on the block."

Oh yikes. You’re such a cheese dog. Tonight’s gotta be our best hit. My magnum opus.

...What do you need? asked Sumo.

A few things. Can you call a drone drop?

All ears.

How much cash do you have? I asked.

A roll of two-hundred.

That’s it? That’s barely enough for a pizza party. I got one-fifty. I cringed when I said that. I had been saving to update the chrome on my one-and-only.

Make it fit, Sumo said.

K...I need new gloves first off, the last ones melted.

The Reeboks?

Nah. This time get the Nikes. The nice ones with magnetic grips like the window washers use.

That’ll drain us quick. I’ll order one. You want right hand or left?

One? Sumo, I’m climbing the tallest tower in Tokyo. I can’t fly old school. Not tonight.

Right hand then.

Fine. Order a mask too, but with the defogger installed. And four hits of techno paint. Two white, one purple, one orange.

Can’t ship paint. New corporate rules.

What?

You’ll have to pick it up yourself. It’s better that way.

Is Tommy even still in business?

If the corporate busters haven’t found him...yes. I think he’s hiding in Kabukicho.

I hesitated. Kabukicho was a glass and concrete jungle that had been bombed with neon. Not that I didn’t like the place, I did as much as the next techno junkie, but it was crawling with yakuza.

I’ll make a pit stop, I said.

Be sure to get Neon6.

What!? No...it’s way too expensive. I’ll just get Face Melt. It’s cheap, but it’ll work.

Sorry I wasn’t thinking. I programmed the light show for Neon6. Besides, like you said, this has got to be your magnum opus.

Crap Sumo. That’ll drain my bank account.

"Yeah, but you’ll be a rock star in the morning. You’ll be able to afford