somebody ; minsung

VII ; lock and key

Like myself, information on Han Jisung is hard to find. All the internet has to offer is a short profile on Oracle Labs' website.

Han Jisung graduated from Seaside Union University with a degree in computer science, robotics and nanotechnology. He has been one of Oracle Laboratories' esteemed scientists since 2080.

I close the holographic monitor, pull in a breath. Everything about him is suspicious. He works for the lab — he could have designed my armour himself — yet he gave me the opportunity to escape. He cried when he first saw me. We have matching tattoos. We must have known each other. But what did Han Jisung mean to me?

Though I'm wary, my next destination is Roux Place, East Eighty-first Street. I don't know where he's leading me, but if he has information on my past, I need to hear it. Is my name Minho or Park Ujin? What the fuck happened that forced me into this nightmare?

Invisible in camouflage mode, I walk the streets, expecting to see something massive. Maybe Roux Place is Oracle Labs' true facility, an underground bunker, the site of my death, or a puzzle piece that will explain everything.

But when I find it, it's just an apartment complex on a busy road. I see Jisung on his balcony only a few storeys up, looking down at a holo-monitor. He turns and walks back into his apartment.

I duck into an alleyway and grab the fire escape, pulling myself up. I leap onto his balcony, look through the glass doors. It's small and warm, framed pictures on the walls, clothes and blankets strewn across the floor, dirty dishes in the sink. Jisung is facing away, sitting at the kitchen table with earbuds in.

Conducting artillery, wiretap and external surveillance scan.

No artillery, wiretap technology or surveillance detected within radius.

I slide the door open and go in. He doesn't seem to notice me. My eyes move over the pictures. The first is a family photo; I assume the chubby little baby in the woman's lap is Jisung. The one after that is a nerdy-looking kid standing next to a 'best in show' robot. The next is a group of friends at a bar, cheeks flushed and pint glasses full.

The next is missing. There's a nail where a picture would be hung, an outline of dust on the wall. The rest of the row, every second frame is absent.

I hear Jisung rise from his seat behind me. He walks to a closet door, opens it and pulls out a cardboard box.

"I know you're here, Minho. You're giving off an infrared signature." He pushes the box toward me with his foot. "The pictures are in there. Look if you want."

He goes back to the kitchen table. My armour withdraws, leaves me visible. I crouch and open the box. Inside is a pile of framed pictures. I pick up the first and turn it over.

It's me. I'm crowded up to the camera, puckering my lips. The next is both of us, my arms wrapped around him. Half his face as he takes a picture of me mid-sneeze. Us in bed, tattoos aligned in the early morning sun.

"We had them done for our second anniversary," Jisung murmurs. "You said we were perfect like a lock and key. Cheesy." He laughs, soft and weak.

I rise to my feet and sit in the chair across from him. "Tell me what happened."

He meets my eyes. "I'll start from the beginning."