Az bumps the old truck up the driveway of Gen’s shop. Above us, the rolling gray swells steer across the sky to blot out the sun and blanket ‘Cuse in drear. Chill drags itself over the corpse of the summer months, its cold-cracked nails digging into the land around the city to root itself and bring autumn’s decay in a blanket of leaves. The carpet of blood red and sunset orange leaves forms a runner for the wrathful ghost of winter, and in its long shadow is the anniversary of my hospital stay. Each day of falling temperatures is a reminder of a changed life. And each stretch of darkness reaching ever earlier is a reminder of time passing.

  All I can do is try my best to move on. Move forward.

  The garage door shutters open with a squeal. Another thing on the list of things to fix. Az parks the truck. I unhook him from the center console with a sigh. It’s still morning, and today is already too long. My shoulders slump, joints pulsing to their own beat. Fatigue, weighing heavily on my shoulders, threatens to drag me to the floorboards of the truck.

  There’s no time for that.

  With Az tucked into the nook of my elbow, I shove open the truck door. Dust and the tang of rust twirl through the pale light leaking in from the street.

  “Time to get to work, Az,” I say, heading to the back of the truck. A helper bot in terrible shape sits in the bed. Something, or someone, split it almost in two at its center.

  Wires claw into the air from the gaping wound, searching for their other half, and fluid, dried and sticky, forms rivers down the wrinkled metal of the body. I’d left even more bot viscera in the helper bot’s charging area. The couple that had met me in front of their scrape had no answers except pinched mouths and wide eyes.

  I tuck Az into my sweatshirt and pull the bot to the edge. With a grunt, I lift it and head towards the shop. Regret sets in. I did this in the wrong order. There’s no way for me to open the door.

  “Gen!” I shout and kick the door. I’m still kicking it when she opens it with a scowl. She takes me in from bottom to top, and her scowl turns to wide-eyed shock.

  “Wow, that’s in way worse shape than they said on the phone,” Gen says.

  “Are you that surprised?” I grumble, moving into the shop and setting the helper bot down on a table near our desks.

  “No way a car did this,” Gen says, staring at the bot.

  “Not unless it was wielding a chainsaw,” I reply.

  “Weirder things have happened,” Gen says with a shrug. “Come here real quick.”

  She heads towards the front counter. I follow while pulling Az from my sweatshirt’s front pocket. He blinks a dull purple, unhappy with how I carried him. I plug him into his shop bot form in apology, and he runs to find something to get into.

  Gen lays a neon sign for an old beer company on the counter next to my elbow. I whistle in amazement. The sign is a relic, an antique to some, which means good cost if we sell it.

  “Where’d this come from?” I ask.

  “Storage.”

  “Why’d you pull it out?”

  “It’s the trade for the ticket. It’s for you,” Gen replies, tapping it.

  I raise a brow.

  “You could have traded those tickets away for something worth a lot of cost, and I convinced you to go.”

  “I thought you were going to trade me a bot part. Not something worth cost,” I say, incredulous.

  “I feel guilty that I enjoyed the party a lot more than you. Take it. You’re my friend. I want to support you.”

  “Gen,” I trail off. The niceness of the act steals my words. Gen can be abrasive, and she’s told me countless times since I started the list that the idea of trading to the stars is dangerous, but how important this is to me does register. In the end, I can always count on her.

  “Gen, thank you,” I whisper.

  I curl around the counter and envelop her in a hug. She’s soft and warm. Her pink hair is a vanilla bouquet pressed into my nose while her strong arms hold me close. It’s a hug that ignites the embers of my heart. Demands love to sprout from it, and the roots from the delicate bud wrap around my ribs, making my chest tight. It’s a welcome relief from the pressure that resides there, waiting to spring forth with knives and teeth. This is soothing and hopeful. It shoves the pain and worry from my mind and, for a second, convinces me everything will be fine. The hug, so simple, is water to my dry, desert soul.

  Gen pulls away. “It was nice hanging with Dom last night. Wild that she wants to do it again.”

  “From what she told me, she’s surrounded by people who want her for her inventions and business, not her as a person, or a friend.”

  Gen frowns. “That’s sad.”

  A yawn cracks my jaw, interrupting my agreement. I stretch and catch the edge of the ven mach out the front window. “I’m going to go grab a coffee.”

  Gen wrinkles her nose. “We should get a coffee machine.”

  “But I want to make poor life choices fed by impulse.”

  “The story of your life,” Gen says. I shove her lightly, and we both laugh.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The chime of the door leads me into the gray, soaked day. The yellow neon of the ven mach calls to me—a miniature star leaking through the bleakness. With hope strumming through my veins, I make the same selection as before, wishing for another two-for-one special that the owner did not intend to exist. My knees crack as I bend. There is no good solution here. Either I grit and bear the pain of crouching, or I risk blacking out by bending over and rising too quickly. Today, luck is not on my side. I wait a few moments, but no second coffee comes.

  I sigh and turn my face up to the swollen belly of the clouds. Perhaps this is a sign that my luck is over. My knees crack as I rise and watch Evangeline walk towards me in an electric purple hoodie and bright blue jeans. Our styles match, though I’m a sunset to her winter wind.

  “Hello, Jaqs,” she says, drawing near.

  I glance towards the shop. “What are you doing here?”

  Evangeline’s lazy smile emerges. She leans against the wall of Gen’s shop. Her yellow boots are twin suns against the dark sky of the asphalt.

  “I came for you.”

  “Well, here I am,” I say, holding out my arms, coffee in hand.

  Evangeline shakes her head. “What are you up to?”

  My arms drop right along with my mood. “Working.”

  “You want to take a break and get food?”

  “Yeah. We need to talk.” I heave a sigh. “Let me pop in and tell Gen.”

  Az waits by the door of the shop, his little hands pressed against the glass. I scoop him up. Gen has disappeared. “Gen, I’m going to take an early lunch!”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Wait, where are you going? I may want food.”

  I don’t answer and leave the warmth of the shop, Az cradled in my arms. It’s better this way. No need to spoil Gen’s good mood by telling her I’m getting lunch with Evangeline.

  “Hey there, cutie.” Evangeline leans down and kisses Az’s core. He blinks hot pink in time with my thumping heart. “Let’s go.”

  “Jaqs?” Gen calls after us. “Jaqs, stop!”

  I turn, walking backwards. “I’ll be back in a bit and make up the time.”

  “Jaqs!”

  A grimace consumes my face, and my heart sinks. This is no way to treat Gen and our friendship, but I agreed to help Evangeline and need better reassurances from her.

  A car honks the next street over, breaking through the gentle swish of near-constant traffic. A few other people are walking down this street due to the nature of the shops, and it gives the city a hollow feeling. An automated 24-hour auto shop spreads across the street from Gen’s place and permeates the air with the heavy, cloying scent of oil. Next to it is a bot fabrication shop, a small business trying to compete with the corps that sprawl in large buildings next to the freeway. We pass by a drug clinic when Evangeline breaks the silence.

  “You left the party early. I wanted to talk with you more.”

  “You were searching for me?”

  Evangeline smiles. “Of course. I wanted to make sure you met Dom.”

  “I did. She’s who I left with.”

  Evangeline’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “We met up with Mel and Gen to get food,” I clarify.

  Evangeline relaxes. She nods to herself and licks her lips.

  Warmth creeps through my chest and finds a home within my skin.

  A small sandwich shop provides the perfect place for our date. That’s what I’m calling it, though never out loud. If I don’t say it, there’s no rejection. At least not yet. The glow of this happiness lasts for a while longer.

  We take a seat at an orange vinyl booth, the color matching the walls, with a scarlet table that clashes with the rose floors. It’s a place that has tried to be bright but clashes. It’s so garish it makes my eyes water.

  “I promise this place has good food,” Evangeline says with a chuckle. “I’ve been here a few times, and it’s good enough to put up with these colors. Plus, the high booths allow a bit of privacy.”

  We order from a small screen in the table. “Were you wanting privacy?”

  Evangeline shoots me a small smile. “You said you wanted to talk. Figured you would want privacy to do so.”

  I shrug. It’s a sharp, quick thing honed by anxiety through the years.

  Evangeline leans forward on the table, folding her hands before her. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  My words freeze on my tongue. I need reassurance from Evangeline that I’ll be safe, but I have no clue how to start the conversation. There’s also the worry I’ll offend her by bringing up the topic. And I don’t want to risk her casting me aside. She brought the warmth of her sunbeam into the shadow of my life. I don’t want to lose that.

  “I—uh. I—”

  Evangeline takes pity on me. She reaches forward and takes my hand in hers.“Tell me more about this dream of yours. Is it the only thing you’re working towards?”

  There’s danger in telling Evangeline more about the bucket list. It gives her more to dangle in front of me if she wants. But would she? She didn’t have to tell me about Robert or Prism. She wants to leave Prism, and she didn’t have to ask me for help. Surely there was someone else. But Evangeline wanted to protect me. Besides, I already told her my deepest want. Everything else is easy to say no to. Well, almost everything.

  Right. OK. It’s definitely not worrying over Prism influencing these thoughts. I’m completely fine.

  I swallow. “Not the only thing, no. I mentioned a list when we were trading the ticket. It’s…it’s a bucket list. Of things I want to do.”

  “What else is on it?”

  A service bot delivers Evangeline’s tea. I open my ven mach coffee.

  “Random things. Like wanting to visit the flooded parts of New York City, upgrading Az to connect to more things, and getting healthy enough to go hiking in the Adirondacks.”

  Az blinks pink at the mention of his name.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.” I take a sip of coffee to hide my nerves.

  “I’ve seen you with the cane, and you said you need to get healthy enough to hike. What are you sick with?”

  My tongue darts out to wet my lips. The explanation about my sicknesses sits on my lips, waiting for release. About how they rule my life and are the reason for the list. That the jolt of excitement I get from trading is the one thing keeping me going. And that if I do one of the easy bucket list things first and stop, I’m scared I’ll never get going again. That doesn’t work with how I exist.

  Ever since the diagnosis, I've been running with my heart at double speed, afraid to stop and exist without doing anything because that's seconds that I don't get back. Time that isn't used in gaining something. I no longer have the gratification of waiting. Life is a ticking time bomb. The specter of lost time hangs over my head and haunts every motion.

  But I don’t want to share any of that. I enjoy that Evangeline sees me without the pain. Dom and I are alike in that way. We each want to be seen as a person first.

  I huff out a chuckle. It sounds fake to my own ears. “Some bullshit diseases that make life hard.”

  Evangeline raises a brow, waiting.

  I take another sip of coffee. “You were right before that I’m not healthy enough to go to space. The diseases stop that.”

  “Terminal?”

  “If I’m unlucky enough.”

  The sandwiches come. They’re hefty and warm with meat and veggies spilling out of Evangeline’s and seitan and even more veggies squished into mine. It explodes flavor across my tongue. I nod in appreciation.

  “Fine, you were right,” I admit.

  “Told you. I came here with Gen a long time ago. I try to come when I’m in the area.”

  “Can’t imagine you and Gen hanging out,” I mutter around a tomato.

  “Wasn’t exactly hanging out. It was the beginning of her hatred of me.”

  “That sounds more like how she talks about you.”

  “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

  “Something like that. Gen has nothing good to say about Prism.”

  “Neither do I,” Evangeline says with a smile. “But you knew that, so why bring this up?”

  I heave a sigh and put the sandwich down. “I think I’m in over my head, and I’m worried I agreed to something that could go horribly wrong. You said that Robert would get me to trust him and use my wants against me. You know my deepest want.”

  Evangeline nods. “And I asked you about all your others. You’re worried I’m going to do the same thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  My shoulders fall. Defeat lies heavy across them. I want to trust Evangeline and that she is sincere in wanting to leave Prism. But between what I’ve heard from Gen, what Evangeline has said about Prism, and the vibes Robert has given off, the whole situation leaves me uneasy. I don’t want to be a pawn in Prism’s game.

  “Jaqs,” Evangeline starts, voice soft. “I need you to leave Prism. I’m not going to use you. I’m not going to let Prism consume you. I want you to be able to make progress on your dream to walk amongst the stars, while I gather dirt, and to protect you from others in Prism who have their sights set on you while doing so. That’s all. What would help you see I’m sincere?”

  I stare at the sandwich and chew my bottom lip. There’s one thing that comes to mind. Protection. But not for me. I meet Evangeline’s eyes.

  “I want you to make it so that Prism doesn’t come after Mel and to cancel whatever is going on with Gen,” I say.

  Evangeline’s face twists into a grimace. “I can’t do anything about Gen. She’s signed a contract, and if I try to delete it or pull her from it, that will alert too many people. They’ll know immediately that I’m up to something. However, I should be able to protect Mel.

  Let me see.”

  Her long fingers pull apps from her holo and lay them out on the table in front of her. “I need some information to look her up in the system. What’s her first and last name?”

  “Melanie Kim.”

  “Here she is,” Evangeline selects Mel’s name, and a profile of my best friend pops up, including a picture. It’s one of her most recent headshots for acting jobs. My heart drops to my stomach.

  “What is that?”

  “The database of everyone Prism is working with or watching. She’s marked as watch, which is good. That means she hasn’t agreed to anything, and I can make it so that no one can approach her.”

  “How?”

  “By claiming her as mine.”

  “What?” I hiss. “That’s the opposite of what I want.”

  Evangeline holds up a hand. “I’m not going to offer her a deal. If anyone asks, I’ll say the deal fell through, but I’m still working with Mel. I’m not going to actually work with her, but this will make it so that no one else from Prism will approach her. It will remove Robert’s ability to use Mel.”

  “You can’t mark her as unavailable?”

  “No one is unavailable to Prism,” Evangeline mutters. “It just means the organization hasn’t found the right price. Jaqs, I won’t do this unless you want me to. I want to be open with you about this. That’s why I’m showing you all of this.”

  I take a large bite of the sandwich and flop back onto the bench. I glare at the table.

  “You can ask Mel about Robert to make sure he’s leaving her alone. And ask her if anyone else has approached her that way, you know, I’m not offering her deals. But this way she is protected,” Evangeline offers.

  “Will Robert leave her alone?”

  “Even Prism has standards and rules we have to exist by. If he tried to steal her from me, he’d be up for disciplinary action.”

  “And that’s happened before?”

  “Yes. Even the devil has an HR department.”

  That draws a laugh out of me. Evangeline smiles.

  I pick at the peeling paint on the table. It’s blue underneath, which would have gone better with the other colors. “Do it. Protect Mel.”

  Evangeline nods and goes through a few menus. She shows me the holo window when she’s done. In bold letters, three lines down under assigned to is Evangeline’s name.

  “Your last name is Morris?”

  “Unfortunately.” Evangeline closes all the windows and picks up her sandwich. “If you ever want to check that I’m still assigned to her, just ask. I hope that eases some of your worry.”

  “It does,” I answer. And it truly does. My shoulders have eased from around my ears, and my heart has risen back into my chest.

  “Good, because you’re not going to like this next part.”

  I stare at Evangeline.

  “I didn’t come by the shop for nothing. I came to tell you that we have to go to Prism and sign your contract. And before that, you have to meet the boss.”