commune on the edge of a smart city feeds on the flow of global data.
Lidar sensors found teens on guard duty, reflected laser light suggesting weapons—plastic guns and lengths of rebar. We tagged each threat on satellite maps, points of egress marked and catalogued for possible escape vectors.
Meanwhile I walked ahead with Enda and JD, our feet scraping over gravel and cement ground to a fine silt and deposited by receding floodwaters, skirting around patches of algae that lay slick across the concrete. Unknown to the humans, I indexed intelligence gathered by my other selves—the wild joy of free-range data collection an utterly new sensation. So much data, so much experience shared, diverging selves forming a community of sorts, disparate bodies driven to one purpose.
In the courtyard outside the school’s main building, a group of children gathered around a campfire, burning pieces of garbage just to see what colors would spark off the different materials, unconcerned by the toxic gases that entered their lungs with every breath—my CBRNE sensors identifying multiple carcinogens.
“Hey,” JD said to the kids. “Soo-hyun’s over at the workshop, right? Anyone else with them?”
“Who the fuck are you?” a dirty-faced kid demanded. His head was shaved, and both his arms were covered in watches, their faces scratched and cracked, batteries long dead. “Fucking cops?”
“I’m Soo-hyun’s brother.”
“What?” the kid said, voice strained in disbelief.
“Step-brother.”
The kid eyeballed JD hard.
“I’ll give you five euro.”
The kid shrugged and nodded to the far end of the school grounds. “Yeah, they’re in the workshop, alone. Kali said they needed time for solitary self-reflection and contrition consideration.”
“What does that even mean?” JD asked, but the kid only shrugged.
JD took the five-euro note from his wallet and handed the last of his money to the kid. “Thanks, watchman.”
JD and Enda carried on. I stayed behind just long enough to watch the boy hold the money over the fire and grin as it burned.
Enda climbed the steps up to the workshop door and tried the handle. Locked.
She turned to JD: “You got anything in that bag that could knock the door handle off?”
“I can do one better.” JD dropped his rucksack to the ground beside the door. He crouched and rooted through the bag. He retrieved his lockpick set, flipping it open with a flourish while Enda looked on, seemingly impressed. He took the torsion wrench and rake he needed, but as he readied to slip them into the keyhole, the door opened.
Soo-hyun stood in the opening, brow furrowed. “JD? What are you doing here?”
They wore a heavy, old shirt, olive green with epaulets. It was stained with grime, and a single smear of grease streaked beneath their eye, either deliberate or an artful accident.
“You’re okay!” JD said.
“Of course I’m okay.”
“We’ve come to save you.”
“Save?”
“She’s got you trapped in here.”
“It’s not like that. I couldn’t keep doing it, I couldn’t keep helping Kali when I saw you were in danger.” Soo-hyun motioned to the nearest dog with a screwdriver. “So I’m trying to keep busy until it’s all over.”
JD clenched his fists, and exhaled, letting his hands unfurl. “It can’t be over while you’re in danger.”
“I’m not in danger, I’m just—” Soo-hyun sighed. “I never should have convinced you to take the job. I never should have left the commune. I can’t be fucking trusted.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I could have killed you,” Soo-hyun said, quiet, despondent.
“I’m okay, Soo-hyun; you’ve done nothing wrong. But you’re not safe here, and we need to go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s no time; I’ll explain later.” JD grabbed Soo-hyun by the arm and dragged them out of the workshop.
“What is wrong with you?” Soo-hyun shouted. “You’re acting weird.”
“Just trust me for once,” JD hissed.
“What the fuck?” Soo-hyun yelled, their voice booming in the quiet air of the commune. In that brief moment, JD missed the constant din of city traffic.
“It’s not safe for you here.”
“I live here! This is my home.”
“We don’t have time for this.” JD dragged them past the campfire and the children. All around us, people began to take notice, eyes staring, fingers pointing.
“We have been spotted,” I said.
“Why is that dog talking?” Soo-hyun said.
“How many guns have you found?” Enda asked.
“We have located thirteen people with firearms. They are converging on our position.”
A scatter of footsteps echoed, followed by distant shouts—Red’s nasal, colonial accent distinct from the other voices, barking orders. He reached the school courtyard, charging ahead with a 3D-printed Kalashnikov held across his chest.
“You!” he yelled, seeing Enda. He raised the weapon to his shoulder and