Through Virulent Time: Matriarchs - Silicon Gods, #3

By Chris Sarantopoulos

You zero, you die. The timer is relentless.

The world changed in the last century. Now it's kill or be killed. Yury Bukin is a mafia member willing to do anything in his power to keep his counter from reaching zero.

When his mentor assigns him a simple job, it's the opportunity of a lifetime; steal a canister and get rewarded with an entire week of life. Except others are searching for that canister and they have leverage over him: the only other person he cares for. Because the canister may hold mankind's salvation.

To put an end to his never-ending timer, he must challenge the establishment and his nature. To change the world, he must stand up against overwhelmingly stronger forces. To save what he loves, he must side with those he has grown up hating all his life. If he fails, mankind fails with him.

If you love dark and gritty cyberpunk thrillers, heavy on biopunk and nanopunk elements, then you don't want to miss the conclusion of the Matriarchs - Silicon Gods series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Sarantopoulos
• Release date: Feb 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224112333

Book preview

Through Virulent Time

Matriarchs - Silicon Gods book 3

Chris Sarantopoulos

Copyright © 2022 Chris Sarantopoulos

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Request, at the address below.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chris Sarantopoulos

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Cover design by: DreamIn Digital Dreams

To my dad.

Thank you for everything. Where would I be without you?

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CHAPTER 1

There was one absolute power in the world. One that dominated everything with a snapping whip. One that attacked with unparalleled ferocity and snuck up on everything and everyone. The power that brought even death to its knees and made it obey new and twisted rules. The power of change.

Yury grunted and released a deep breath as the last bit of sexual ecstasy drained from him. He drew in a deep breath and with it came Delta’s sweet body odour that drove him mad. He put his hand into her hair, those silken waves of pleasure that took him to places seen only in scavenged memory holos of old. Saltiness still lingered on his lips, even after their last kiss. He savoured the faint traces of her sweat on his mouth and the warmth her naked body gave off.

When he opened his eyes, she was still on top of him, breathing heavily, the dimple at the base of her neck slightly glistening.

She had her eyes fixed on his, like someone searching for something hidden or lost, something that ought to have been there all along.

She blinked rapidly, like someone coming into reality without warning—disappointed, almost—straddled off him, and headed to the holo-mirror.

He gazed at her body as she untangled her pink-cyan-purple hair, the patch of sweat on the curve of the small of her back.

Her dark brown eyes met his for a moment. They always gave him the impression they held a perpetual ocean of sadness in them. Now, the way the holo-mirror jittered and stuttered—old, half-cracked on one side and coated with grime around the edges—it made her eyes seem even sadder than ever before.

She took her eyes away and swiped her wrist over the terminal on her dresser. A small canister popped up from an opening. Her gaze became vacant, drawn in an undefined location, seeing something visible only to her. Damn contraceptives keep getting more expensive by the day, she said, took the canister, and sprayed her genitals. She stifled a pained moan, then sprayed some more.

Did I hurt you? Yury asked.

She shook her head. It’s the spray. You’d think that with how much time it costs there wouldn’t be any pain. So now it causes pain and drains my time. Pretty soon I won’t have enough time for food. She rested her body on the dresser and hung her head. Why? You worry about me?

Of course not. If he did, he’d have to care for her and she for him. Help her if ever in need. And that meant he would have to spend some of his life’s time for her. That would complicate things. Things should stay as they were. Stability meant survival. It was his life’s time, after all. If his life depended upon it, she wouldn’t even give him half a second of hers.

Still, the thought had crossed his mind in the past—a fleeting thought, nothing more. Once.

Maybe twice.

It was only a moment of weakness, nothing more. Everyone was out for themselves. Ever since the Time Virus.

Don’t be, Delta continued and approached the bed. I’m in the sex business, remember? Sometimes I think sex is the second best currency in the world. And the system has left it mostly uncontrolled. She squatted at something annoying on her hip, then peered intently at her hand. Damn codebugs with their upgrades and antiviral tests. It’s not like they’re making any progress with the cure, so why bother anyway? Her gaze went vacant again. When she came out of it, she pressed her lips as if disappointed.

Time for your next client? Yury asked. Should I go?

He’s no longer in the system.

Meaning he had run out of time. Another one for the meat grinder.

She stared at the yellow patch of mould on the ceiling while her finger worked the spot the codebug had stung her. Next one is in thirty-two minutes. You know, he’s the third one I lose these past two weeks.

All zeroed?

Nah, just this one. The other two couldn’t afford to fuck me. Don’t know if they’ve zeroed or not. She quirked her upper lip in dismissal. Don’t know, don’t care.

You checked this last one out, though. Was he a regular?

She nodded. Two years.

Yury made a sound at the back of his throat. Was he good to you? he asked while he straightened a crease on the sheet, then gave her a side glance.

A gentle lift of a slender shoulder. He paid.

Yeah. The only thing that mattered, after all.

If you want and can afford it, she said and climbed onto the bed smiling, her tongue playfully prodding the inside of her cheek, you can have another round. Her eyes danced as they raced across his face. Bet you still got some juice left in you, she said and brushed her hand near his wrist.

Yury recoiled.

Delta snatched her hand back.

The smile died on her face. I wasn’t going to steal your time. She drew away even more and folded her arms across her breasts. I’m not stupid to mess with the mafia. She looked down, then at him under her eyebrows. She gave him a small, awkward smile under a bitten lower lip. Well? Go again? She put her wrist out and wiggled it in front of him.

Yury never took his eyes off her. Silence hung for a long, dragged-out moment. Sure, he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his jaw set. To this day, she hadn’t asked him once if he had enough time in him. If he could make it home. If he’d make it to tomorrow. She took it for granted. Everything was fine as long as the client paid.

Everyone was out for themselves, and she was no different. It was moments like this that she drifted away from him. Not physically, of course. More like … he sighed internally; it was hard to explain even to himself. He simply felt like being kept at a distance.

Their wrists touched. His ocular display showed the minutes speeding down until the allotted time was transferred to her. Some of the tension in her melted away.

A moment later, she noticed him eyeing her. What’s wrong?

Just wandering.

Her throat bobbed once. I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean—

Not about that. Do you really want another round with me?

You paid. She lay down and rested on her elbow. What’s all this about? Time’s ticking.

He tried picturing her smiling to him—really smiling, not like the smiles her job sometimes demanded of her. He couldn’t. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile like that.

How much time do you have now? he asked.

Her eyelids flattered a little and her gaze got that vacant expression once more. Seven hours, twenty-two minutes and under twenty seconds. But I’ll have to pay half of that or half of whatever I make today to my time debt.

And after that? Will you have enough time after that?

She sat up straight and edged away from him a fraction. What’s with all the questions about my time, Yury? You want to drain me or fuck me? You paid. Just so we’re clear, I don’t do refunds. Mafia or not, I’ll fight you to death if I have to. I’m not easy prey. I survived this long. Outlived everyone from my batch. Zeroed three on my first day out, you hear?

Answer the question. He reached out his hand for a loose strand of her cyan-tipped hair. She moved back, almost flinched as if threatened, and did her best to hide the shudder that went through her body. Yury pushed the strand back. Will you have enough?

She chuckled and slid off the bed. In the dim light of the illuminum bar overhead, the goose bumps on her skin stood out enough for him to marvel at their beauty. Show me someone who has enough time, then I’ll tell you if I’ll have enough.

He did. Ever since he joined the mafia, he had enough time to live. Not much and not always, but enough to see him through a whole day without worry.

She hugged herself and leaned against the nearest wall. What do you want me to say, Yury? If I want to be your personal fuck doll? Are you going to provide me with time exclusively from now on? For how long? What’s going to happen to me after I’m no longer appealing? After you find someone else to take my place? What about when you die? You going to pass me to your other mafia buddies? Have me beg them for seconds? Beg you? You always seem to have enough time to visit me daily.

I didn’t—

I don’t need that. I’m eighteen, nineteen, whatever my real age is, and I don’t see myself growing past twenty-two, twenty-three working here. Maybe. If I’m efficient, if I can spread my legs fast enough for as many clients as possible. If I’m ruthless and zero a few out in the streets, I may live to twenty-four. What can the mafia do to extend my time on this shit hole of a world? You think I haven’t thought about joining a gang or the mafia instead of fucking my way to my death? I don’t need this kind of heat. Joining your mafia means trouble. Time expectancy there would be under twenty-three. Sex slaving beats that by a year. Maybe. She shrugged. I told you that sex is the second best currency and I intend to make the most of it, not because I like it but because I have a huge time debt to repay. She approached his side of the bed. Her half-smile was like the harshest winters. Now, half the time you paid is gone. All that’s left is enough for a quickie. Yes or no?

Yury sat up. I didn’t pay you for that.

She straightened and pursed her lips together. Her features twisted in rage. Fuck you, Yury, big mafia man. I don’t need your charity. She reached out to slap him.

He grabbed her hand before it connected and brought her close to him. I don’t do charities. He turned his gaze to his clothes.

What do you want, then?

He released her, got out of bed, went to his coat, and came back holding his prized tech in his hands. I wanted to show you something. And talk to her a bit. He enjoyed talking to her. Not when they argued—that wasn’t talking and there was little reasoning when she behaved like this—but she somehow made whatever inner turmoil he felt calm down.

What is it? She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her wrist.

I don’t know. Old tech. He looked around him, walked to the door, turned, and faced the tiny apartment.

She now lived and worked in a small rectangular brothel apartment that the architect of old had managed to squeeze in it a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small nook that served as a bathroom. The longest side couldn’t have been more than twenty feet.

He activated it. The small orb rose in the air, spun around itself and let out a flat beam that licked first the walls, then the floor and the ceiling. A moment later, a hologram took shape. He motioned Delta to stand by his side.

What’s it doing? she asked.

Slowly, the rays went back and forth, as if painting something in the distance between them and the bed.

I don’t see—

She gasped.

Her hologram appeared, moving backwards to the bed from where she stood now. Moments later, Yury’s holographic form walked backwards, headed to his clothes, then back to the bed, then grabbed her wrist when she tried to slap him, then it stopped. The sequence went on loop from that point on.

That’s us a minute ago, she said and smiled.

Yury fiddled with the device for a moment, and then its ray thickened. More people appeared on the hologram.

Delta pointed at a slim and tall man. He was here before you came. How do you do that?

I’m not doing anything. I adjust its power and output, then it shows things from the past somehow.

Like those old memory holos?

It’s not a memory hologram, Yury said. I think it’s some kind of reconstruction tech. I think it recreates a scene in an area based on those who visited last.

She turned to him with a smile he had never seen on her ever since he had met her. It was a fitting smile; her face was made for it. How far back can it go?

For many seconds, he simply stared at her smile, how it brightened her face, her features. For a moment, all he could do was drown in the beauty of her expression, this new face that stood next to him, a face he wished she always wore for him.

Yury? Her smile slowly waned, like a setting sun—another thing he had never seen in his life, except on holo-vids and pseudo-environment windows. The world darkened without it.

He blinked and cleared his throat. Not too far back. I think it worked alongside other similar devices and they all shared data and returned a more accurate image. I only have this one, but I can try cranking it all the way up.

Don’t break it, she said. A few seconds later, she gasped and pointed behind him.

A little boy ran backwards around someone.

Yury moved the projector higher. The tech mapped out the face of another boy a few years older, around eight or nine maybe. They were brothers.

She looked at the brothers awestruck, one hand over her mouth, as though afraid of letting a sound escape in case it would scatter the visage. Children, she whispered. Unregulated. A family. Haven’t seen a hologram with children in ages. She knelt down and squatted next to the children, mesmerised as if the Director himself stood before her.

It somehow collects data from its surroundings and builds the reconstruction, Yury said. The more people have gone through the area, the less accurate the result is. He pointed at the apartment’s door, where a host of people came and went.

So these two kids …

They used to live here before you. People only recently moved in to this building, right?

She nodded, her eyes only for the children. It was abandoned since forever I think, but with the collapse of the buildings in Sector Twelve Up Three, the Director had to relocate us.

Well, in that case, they were probably living here before the Time Virus struck. Probably played around this area of the apartment that neither you nor any of your clients have disturbed.

Look how carefree they were back then. She chuckled after one of the children let out a joyful squeal. Where did you get it? Delta asked.

The tech? I found it many years ago when I was scavenging Level Three. It was inside an old police building. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? he asked.

What?

How could they have been so happy? So carefree. How could they have been so fool not to avoid the virus?

For many moments, she said nothing. You know it’s illegal to hold on to old tech, right? she said at length. If they catch you, they’ll drain you.

If they ever caught him, they would drain him for having stolen time from so many people. Possessing old tech would be the least of his worries. Well, don’t tell on me then, he said. He switched it off and put it back in his coat.

When the hologram vanished, Delta’s face darkened a bit, as if the lack of the hologram’s backsplash had taken something from her, something deeper, but she remained eyeing the spot where the two kids had been playing. A moment later she blinked, like someone coming out of a dream, and stood. Why didn’t you turn it in for time? It could fetch you several minutes. Perhaps a whole hour.

Didn’t have to at the time. I had just been recruited into the mafia and I knew it would come in handy at some point. Besides, I can turn it in if there’s an emergency. He wasn’t some random stupid man. He had a whole stash of things he could use for time. He took his pants off the floor and put them on. I also wanted … he paused a moment, then picked up his shirt. I wanted to have something for myself for once, you know? Something I could call mine. Even if it wasn’t really mine. Something I could claim. Ever felt that?

Delta turned to where the children had been playing. Yeah, she whispered. All the time.

Maybe it was a bad idea bringing the tech to her. She could turn him over for a few more minutes of life. Or try to take him down and sell the tech. If she tried anything funny—he took a deep breath and clenched his jaw—he’d have to zero her.

CHAPTER 2

Yury’s holo-link chirped as he was about to leave Delta’s place. He motioned her to keep quiet and stay out of sight. In his line of business, secrecy was paramount. He accepted the call.

How are things? Ponbon’s hologram asked. He had a toothy grin that made him look more like the predator he was. Has my student got enough time?

Ponbon was one of mafia’s top collectors, one who had managed to outlive practically everyone else and he now boasted to be among the oldest human beings alive. Except Boddega, mafia’s big boss. Ponbon was now almost fifty years old with greying hair. Nobody reached that age unless they were efficient at what they did or were utterly ruthless. And Ponbon was both; a lethal combination.

Despite that, Ponbon had helped Yury when he was just a little boy scavenging deep into Level One. He had even given Yury some of his time. Not for free, of course. Never for free. Nothing was free when one had dealings with Ponbon or the mafia. But nothing was unfair either, and Ponbon was a fair man with those he chose to help. It was thanks to Ponbon that Yury had joined the mafia and had managed to change his life and live as long as he had. Twenty-two years, give or take. He doubted he would ever make it to Ponbon’s age, but it was something to aspire to.

Never enough, Ponbon, you know that.

Another toothy grin. That’s the spirit I want to see. It’s what I’ve been trying to instil in all those who work for me. That’s the same spirit you will have to use for this job I have for you. Is it safe to talk?

Delta withdrew near her dresser and put on her underwear. She cast Yury a side glance, lowered her head, and carried on getting ready for the next client.

Yury nodded. What’s the job?

I need you to retrieve something. It’s of great importance and you have to do it fast and as quietly as possible. Right now, it’s in the possession of some people whose interests clash with our own. It’s very important—no, strike that—it’s vital that you take it from them and deliver it to me intact. No one else but me.

And them?

Ponbon raised his shoulders and gave him a lupine smile. Do whatever you want with them. Their time is yours. Now, before you say anything, I expect them to be well stocked in time. Also, Boddega is paying a lot of time for its retrieval. You will get paid well for this job, I assure you.

What is it?

I don’t know for sure, but I’m certain a lot of key players are interested in it. I doubt any of them know either, but Boddega wants it in his hands, regardless. Leverage, you know how the game is played. I’m confident that it’s something that can be carried, which explains why other players, not as strong as us, are making a move for it.

Ponbon looked away at something, then moved his face so close to his terminal that the processors in Yury’s holo-link had a hard time recreating. Out of all the people I have helped in the past, you have been the most promising. You must be careful. All these other players will try to take it first, or pry it out of your dead cold fingers. You must go there fast. Boddega is so fixated on this that he has sent several other teams to retrieve it. It’s that important. Your competition will be fierce, more so from our own people. Drain anyone who stands in your way, no holding back, you hear? You’re a predator. Can you do it? Can I count on you, Yury?

Of course.

Ponbon stepped back and regarded Yury. He nodded and smiled at him. Of course I can. I’ve trained you well. I was right to keep you alive all these years. Once you retrieve it and deliver it to me, I will wipe clean the last of your time debt to me.

Yury’s eyes widened. My entire time debt to you? All of it? Free at last? From everyone? No more daily fees to Ponbon?

His mentor smiled and nodded. We will hunt together as equals. Do this right and you will get to live as old as I have. Maybe even make it high up the food chain. Ponbon pressed his lips together and blinked at him. Make me proud and prove to me that all my efforts were not for nothing like all the other mongrels I’ve helped in the past.

As old as Ponbon? What was that thing anyway? How will I find it?

Boddega has the mafia’s top hackers working on this round the clock. He’s been obsessing over this ever since he heard about it. We have been piggybacking into security footage. I stole the feed and have been tracking them as best I can. They’re on Level Four. I’m sending you the co-ordinates. A small pop-up appeared at the lower right of the holo-link’s display. It was a live feed of a tracker. You’re on Level Three now, right? Make haste. Once you retrieve it, protect it at all costs. Expect resistance from its current owners. They may be experienced with this sort of thing, who knows? Use your wits, my boy. You’ve always been good at this. You must deliver to me and me alone, you understand? Not Boddega. Do you understand what I’m saying? Not the boss. Only me. One eyebrow rose to his hairline to convey an unspoken message.

Shit. It was happening. Yury opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. Some things were better left unspoken.

What is it? Ponbon asked.

Yury looked away, walked to the other side of Delta’s crummy apartment, then back at his mentor. Why now? There had been other opportunities you didn’t take advantage of. Why make a move on Boddega now?

Ponbon’s face darkened momentarily. Are you afraid?

Yury shook his head.

Are you questioning me, then? Because you’ve always been good at following orders. You’re a good soldier.

I’m just trying to understand—

You don’t need to understand. You need to do as I tell you.

Yury studied the man, the greying hair, the predatory eyes; the determination and the rage bubbling underneath it all. He stared at him until it was Ponbon who took his eyes off Yury, as if ashamed, as if beaten in a battle of will.

I should have been second, not Davile, Ponbon said. I’m the best collector they have and this is how Boddega treats me? I saved him from as many tough spots as I saved you, and when it was time for me to rise, to carve my own name in the mafia hierarchy, he tosses me aside for Davile’s crew? I’ll take control of the mafia and show him what it’s like to betray me. And once I’m in charge, there are going to be some changes. I’m going to need someone by my side. A new and competent second. One who understands. One who is capable. One I can trust. So don’t let me down.

Trust. That word had practically no meaning in today’s world.

Everything’s in place, Ponbon continued. The crew, the electrosapper, everything. Exactly as I had showed you. Boddega’s betrayal simply expedited things.

And this thing will help you?

I’m sure of it. Ponbon made a fist with his hand, so tight it shook. It’s my time now. So don’t let anyone take it from you.

All right. I’m not stupid. Whatever that thing was, it meant it was worth a lot of time. Days, maybe even weeks’ worth of time.

Another lupine smile. Of course not. Not you. You always know what’s best for you. That’s what I liked about you. Even at your weakest, you always look out for yourself. Listen, I’ll be there to help you, but if for whatever reason I’m delayed and don’t meet you in time, make your way to my place. Wait for me there. I’ll have more information on what it is and how to proceed by then. Remember, drain anyone who stands in your way. No subtleties, you hear? I don’t care if you have to zero the entire city to get it. Just get it.

All right. This could be the break he had been waiting for. A chance to pay off his debt to Ponbon. And after that … Well, he would think about it later, after he’d become the second most powerful person in mafia.

Yury. Ponbon’s face grew serious, sombre. Don’t even think of knifing me in the back, my boy.

Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m on my way, he said and ended the call.

He turned to Delta. She had already got dressed and was making the bed. I have to—

Yeah, I heard, she said without looking at him. She had put on a white T-shirt with a large oval cut-out space where her breasts were and underneath it she wore a tight fitting top. Two kissing sets of lips glowed where her nipples were. That old man will be the end of you. You know that, right? You don’t need him.

What?

She stopped, bit on her lower lip, and looked away. Nothing.

No, you have something to say, say it.

She prodded the inside of her cheek with her tongue. You know that what you and your mafia friends do, what that old man has you do for him, hurts the people instead of helping them, right?

You forget it was he and I that kept your brothel sector safe and free, he said. As for the rest of the mafia, we only hurt those who hurt us. And we provide for the people whenever we can.

She replied with a grunt and looked away.

He approached the bed and was about to walk around it to reach her, but she turned her head and back to him, pretending to find more interest in fixing the pillows than looking at him.

I’ve never hurt you or anyone who didn’t deserve it, he said.

She didn’t reply.

The small vial with the contraceptive spray drew his attention. He picked it up and examined it, then scanned it with his wrist. One use, thirty minutes’ worth of time. This thing was expensive. How much did she spend on this and how much did that leave for her? Maybe … maybe he could buy her some for future use with all the time he would get from this job. He was a regular, after all. Perhaps …

He put the vial down. No. What was he thinking? If he did that, she’d start relying on him. Little things at first, then more and more, until she’d leech his time away. Every other sex worker had to go through the same shit she did. She was no different. She had to figure things out for herself. Like he did. Working for Ponbon instead of his Placement didn’t mean he didn’t have to earn his time.

The only person who mattered in this world was himself. Anything else was how stupid people ended up without time; zeroed. And he wasn’t stupid.

He turned around and headed for the door.

It’s not who you are, Delta said.

Yury turned around in time to catch a glimpse of her trying to say something else a couple of times, but jarred to a stop with each attempt before the words fell from her mouth.

She moved to the dresser, took the vial, and disposed of it. You should consider a career change, without sparing him a glance.

Yury chuckled. You don’t approve of my career?

She fixed him with her eyes. No, I don’t.

Interesting. Because you don’t seem to have any problems approving my payments. Where do you think the time I pay you comes from? It’s mafia time, you know. Half the times you’ve asked for seconds.

Something shifted inside her. Her features hardened. You bastard. Get out. She reached him in one stride and slapped him. Hard enough for his head to ring. Get out! Don’t come back here again. Ever. You hear? Get out. Another slap.

He just stood there. His brain had stopped working.

I said get out. She shoved him to the door, opened it, and pushed him out with such force he landed on the opposite wall.

The door slammed behind him.

He stared slack-jawed at her closed door, one hand cradling his cheek and the stinging feeling her slap had left.

Muffled sobs came from behind her door. Why was she crying? She knew what he was and what he did from the very beginning. And he never hurt her. Never even considered draining her, not once. She should ask around the other sex workers for their experiences with mafia.

He sighed. The tracker’s feed Ponbon had sent him showed his target was still at the level above. He had wasted too much time. Time to intercept it.

CHAPTER 3

The interlevel shuttle’s ascension came to a halt. Yury’s ears popped open. He exited the station and crossed the street. An ill-kept sign above him blinked; Maple Street Up Four. Maple … Who came up with these names anyway? What the hell was a maple?

After the Time Virus had struck, Level Four had, according to Ponbon, deteriorated at a steady pace. Behind the broken illuminum bars and above the boarded window shops, some signs were still visible: liquor store, body augs, hotels, ExperienSer, and various other small businesses, all remnants of where people worked over a century ago.

He scratched at an irritation on his cheek, then had the impression that a barely visible codebug flew away, like a shimmering mote of dust taken by the air. He checked his retinal display; still a timer counting down, still no cure. Seven hours, twenty-five minutes, and fifty-two seconds of life left in him. Yet another failed test.

He rounded a corner and fought against the current of people blazing past him. Their eyes often took the usual momentary vacant look as they checked their remaining time, charging and shoving past those who were slightly slower, speeding towards their destination, desperate to work a little more for a few extra seconds of life. No talk, no side glances, no smiles. Just a bent-down head, a destination, and much determination to reach their Placement. Maybe then they’d get a little more time to live.

The deluge of human bodies created small openings where someone’s body lay on the ground flat or slumped on its knees, one arm extended, desperate for anyone foolish enough to spare a few minutes, a couple of seconds, a moment of life.

He rounded the lifeless and hunched down body of a girl around Delta’s age, her arm limp by her side, the wrist exposed. Losers. Why would anyone give up their time for someone who couldn’t take care of themselves? Everybody had a work, everybody made do with the time they were paid. Being unable to manage that time appropriately was one way to separate the weak from the strong. You wanted more time than what your Placement paid you? You did something about it. Get a third and fourth job, if any were available. Not enough? Steal someone else’s. Still not enough? Die and save space for someone better than you.

It was why he had joined the mafia in the first place. He would have done it even if Ponbon hadn’t found him. He was smarter than most. Stronger too. He deserved more.

Up ahead, an augmented ghoul moved against the current of people and caused those nearest to waste a precious second. They all spat at her. Most kept their heads low and broke into a trot to make up for the lost time. A second here, a second there, it all mattered.

The ghoul, a heavyset woman with tangled-up hair and paler-than-normal skin, picked up the dead body before her and hoisted it over her shoulder. That was a ghoul’s job; collecting those who had run out of time. Recycling, repurposing, reusing.

When she secured the body over her shoulder, she flipped everyone around her and scanned those nearest. No doubt she would be coming back for them, getting in their way, slowing them down, anything she could do to help them die a moment sooner and get paid for their corpse. Everyone hated ghouls. Even ghouls hated other ghouls.

Not too far from him, between two minor support towers, plumes of smoke and dust rose and got trapped under the level above. A great deal of people headed towards it; an industrial Placement.

Across the street, a line of kids—scavengers all of them—the youngest around five, the oldest in its early teens, waited for their turn to enter the sewers and tunnels that would lead them to the levels below, shifting their weight left and right, craning their necks to be the first to spot those returning, shoving those nearest for a chance to be the first to venture deep for old tech that would fetch them a few seconds of life. Two ghouls came out of the opening, carrying the lifeless bodies of two kids. Some of the kids’ faces brightened.

It was a ritual Yury knew all too well; the memories branded inside his head until the day his timer would count down to zero. It was a ritual everyone alive knew and was familiar with. It was life.

Billowing dust clouds and the deafening roar of a descending haulerbot turned the kids’ faces blank. The air shimmered around its exhausts. The soon-to-be-dead scavengers raised small hands to shield their eyes from the stinging dirt.

The haulerbot’s doors opened. A new batch of five-year-olds came out.

Your time debt is now due, the haulerbot’s speaker announced. Work hard, bring back all manners of old tech, and you will be paid for the day. Failure to procure enough tech means reduced payment.

The doors closed. The haulerbot took off. The newcomers took their place at the back of the line. Most of them would zero before the day ended. Most good findings would have already been picked clean by those in front of them. Or if they stumbled on a really old building in the levels below, it might come down on them.

Please, mister, a boy to Yury’s left said and touched his hand.

Yury snatched it away and cradled his wrist. Dirty little rascal came too close. He could have stolen his time.

The kid coughed in a dirt-covered bony hand. I don’t feel too well and I can’t make my run worthwhile today. Can you please spare me a few minutes?

Yury pushed him aside and carried on to his destination. The kid had caused him to waste too much precious time.

According to Ponbon’s tracker, whatever he was after moved at a steady and slow speed. That left him with enough time for a small detour to pick up some extra equipment. He had small stashes like this all over the city. It was the smart thing to do. With a bit of running, he’d catch up to it soon. Not too much running, though. He might need to conserve strength for a hasty escape or an actual fight, if those carrying his prize were prepared to defend it, or if any other hounds were near. He put his hand in his pocket to make sure his tranquilliser gun was still there and took a right turn.

A block later, he stopped before a pile of crates stacked against the back wall of what once must have been a Chinese food joint. The ground had a strange squishy feel to it, some fungal growth that had managed to cling on to life on the polycrete, and smelled worse than the old sewers. Hardly anyone came here these days.

He removed the crates to reveal a loose section of the wall. Behind it, he had hidden a club. Stun baton, Ponbon had told him it was called. Some cops used to carry it back in the day.

What’s a cop? Yury had asked in childish naivety.

Ponbon had thought about it for a bit. Someone like a sentinel, only human. Not machine. Ponbon had given it to him years ago. He had said that they no longer made them, not since there were no more cops around and sentinels had no need for them. Very few stun batons left in the world, and Ponbon already had one stashed in his place. It had taken Yury two years, seven months, three days, twenty hours, and thirty-nine seconds of his life’s time to pay Ponbon back for it, but it was worth it all. It had saved his life on more than one occasion and, thanks to it, he had drained countless hours of life from his victims.

The baton hummed with energy as Yury checked its charge. He liked the way it hummed. When he was a kid, he thought the baton was talking to him. He tucked it under his coat and went back to the main street.

The ghoul he had seen earlier went past him. The latest addition was the kid who had asked Yury for some of his time.

According to his holo-link, the target was still moving at a slow speed and hadn’t deviated from their previous vector. He ran after them into a dimly lit tunnel, one of this sector’s sex Placements—where the lowest end of sex workers slaved to pay off their time debt.

Most of the light came from dirty and cheap illuminum bars. Girls and boys crowded under them to make sure potential clients would have a better and easier look at them. Now that Delta threw him out and said she didn’t want to see him again, he would have to find someone else to blow some steam off every once in a while. Someone who wouldn’t look down on his hard earned time. Someone who wouldn’t mind if it came from mafia jobs.

The tracker blinked merrily. How much time would he get for this job? Ponbon had said this job was important and that Boddega had sent all his hounds out for it. And if he made his move against the big boss, then he would have played an integral part in his mentor’s rise to power. Surely Ponbon would give him a little extra. Whatever he was about to steal, it must be worth a lot. Weeks’ or even months’ worth. Why shouldn’t he get an extra week of life? After all, he was the one doing all the hard work.

His mind raced to that hologram he had found once as a scavenger. The hologram of a woman sitting idle on a recliner watching the distance. Nothing else, just sitting and doing nothing. Wasting time like it meant nothing. He’d love to be able to do that himself.

He pushed a bunch of old panels aside to reveal a manhole, then crawled through it and let gravity take him further down and deeper. He was now parallel with his target, same altitude. They had stopped. Probably had so much time in them that they could afford to stop and relax. The fools. Their time would be his. One shot from the tranq gun and they’d be easy pickings.

He was a predator. They would never see him coming.

CHAPTER 4

Six hours, twelve minutes, and twenty seconds left. It had taken him a little less than an hour of running to reach the target. The coordinates in the holo-link showed the prize only thirty yards away from him.

Up to this point, those two had used side alleys and less frequented streets. Now they had stopped again, only this time near the sector’s checkpoint, an energy barrier that rose as high as the nearest buildings. They were probably trying to come up with alternative routes, because sector checkpoints were often—though not always—guarded by sentinels and defence turrets. If they had never scavenged these parts, it would take them some time. They must have had lots of time stored in them.

Yury breathed into his palms, rubbed them together, and smiled. He lowered his holo-link and summoned its interface.

One of the first things mafia taught its new recruits was basic hacking. And he was a competent hacker. Whenever Ponbon needed a drill virus against a tricky firewall or any other programme, he always asked Yury to cook something up.

A minute or so later, the targets appeared in the feed from a nearby hacked camera. They were two men; one heavyset carrying a canister in a harness, the other guy smaller.

The canister. That was what Ponbon wanted.

They were hiding in the entrance of a dilapidated building behind some rubble in an alley that, without a doubt, had been abandoned from even before the Time Virus. The smaller guy—most likely the hacker—had a hologram opened up before him and was manipulating the glob-like interface.

He scanned around him, but there was still no sign of Ponbon. If he were here things would go so much easier. Two against one wasn’t ideal, but he’d manage.

He added an override control to the barrier’s interface, linking directly to him. It would slow them down just in case that hacker was any good. He would have to move fast. If they broke the barrier’s security protocols, they would realise someone had added an extra layer of defence and that they were being followed. They’d be waiting for him.

Yury slid out from his hiding spot and crept towards them. He craned his neck over a large block of polycrete. They were still trying to gain access. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out what he had done to the barrier.

He cast a fleeting glance at the area around him for Ponbon and cursed under his breath. Still no sign of him.

He drew his tranquilliser gun out and walked towards them.

They had come out of their hiding spot with their backs to him.

He squeezed the gun’s handle and breathed deeply to control his racing heartbeat. Twenty yards away. Close enough to hear them talking.

What’s wrong? the big man with the canister asked.

Something … The smaller guy stopped what he was doing and looked around him.

Yury raised his gun, aimed, and fired.

The needle caught the hacker between his kidney and the spine before he had a chance to spot Yury. The man let out a pained and startled grunt. He dropped his display and awkwardly tried to reach his lower back with his free hand.

What’s wrong? the big guy repeated and put a hand on his friend.

It took another second for the tranquilliser to kick in. The moment it did, the hacker fell on the ground convulsing.

Yury strode towards the other one and readied another shot.

The big man turned around. He dropped the canister and swerved to the left.

Despite his size, he moved so fast that it took Yury a moment to take aim again. By the time he did, the target had moved to the right.

And he had closed the distance

Yury’s heart almost jarred to a halt.

He took half a step back.

Too late.

The big man grabbed Yury’s armed hand. The grip that nearly paralysed it. He pushed it aside and exposed his body fully.

Yury struggled to break free. The big fellow must have had some stims or neurachems installed. No way anyone pure could react with such speed, accuracy, and strength.

The man grabbed Yury from the front of his coat, lifted him off the ground, and slammed him back down on it so hard that it drove the air out of