somebody ; minsung

XIII ; goodnight, goodnight

The sky has gone dark but the market is only now coming alive. Umbrellas mushroom over the crowd, shunning the gentle rain. Jisung holds my sleeve so we don't get separated.

We walk until we find shelter beneath a Starbucks overhang in Upper Moss District. He unpacks the black orbs we bought from Mo and pins each of them to the faux stone wall. They take a moment to sync, then a keyboard and monitor appear in the air, flickering bright silver. Jisung starts his mad typing, absentmindedly chewing on his lip.

"Good," he murmurs, "this is good, I'll write some malware and be back in Oracle's systems."

"If those orb thingies are projecting your monitor," I say, "where does mine come from?"

"The projector is embedded in your left eye."

I fuss with my eyelid. "Right, that makes sense. Why couldn't you just use mine?"

"Multiple reasons. Your interface isn't programmed to serve anybody but you, and I don't really feel like backseat-operating your system. Also your hardware is linked to Oracle's, so using it to infiltrate their database would trigger their internal security." He barely looks up from the screen while he speaks.

"So this untraceable computer is gonna help us make Oracle 'pay'?"

"I wish you would stop quoting me on that, I said it in the heat of the moment. And yes, it is. Thank you, by the way, for stepping in back there. It was the wrong call to trust him."

"No problem."

"You're good at it, you know. Using your abilities. I'm a little surprised."

"Did you think I'd make a shitty robot?"

"No, just — the Minho I knew wasn't particularly... physical."

"How offended should I be on his behalf?"

Jisung laughs. It surprises me. I don't think I've heard him laugh yet.

"So... what do we do now?" I ask.

"Now we check into a hotel. I don't feel like sleeping in the rain tonight, even if it'd be cheaper."

He opens a new tab and searches for hotels in the area. The top results are all high-end; he filters them by price. One of the cheapest rooms is only 80,000 won for the night.

"Let's go there," I say. "It looks kinda fancy."

"Minho, that's a love hotel."

"Uh. Never mind then."

"I mean... it is cheap..."

We look at each other.

Even after dark, the district is alight with streetlamps and headlights. The rain is only coming down harder as neon signs guide us. Finally we reach the Hotel Grace, pass through an arch of fake flowers, into the lobby and walk up to the front counter. The receptionist is hidden behind a partition — all I can see is a pair of neatly folded hands.

"Rest or stay?"

"Um, one night please."

"Debit or credit?"

He pays and we head to the elevator. I'm hoping the awkwardness is just me. Who's to say we haven't visited one of these places before. I look at him — he meets my eyes and I look away.

The room is tight, just a bed, a couch and a holographic TV. Everything is either red or black, even the ceilings and walls. We leave our suitcases by the door and gravitate to opposite sides of the room, him typing on the bed and me on the couch, counting the umbrellas out the window. My eyes droop closed; the exhaustion is catching up with me.

I hear a quiet growl. I look over and he has his face in his hands.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. I'm just shit out of ideas. I'm out of everything. I have no clue what I'm doing. Life is hell. Everything is meaningless."

"Late night mental breakdown?"

"Yeah." He grabs his suitcase and drags it to the bathroom. "I'm fucking exhausted. Slept till noon today but I'm just tireder. Christ, what's wrong with me, I'm talking in comparative adjectives."

He ambles back into the room in a t-shirt and pyjama pants and climbs under the covers. "What about you? You must be tired too."

I shrug. "Little bit."

"When was the last time you slept since regaining consciousness?"

"Um. Never?"

He looks befuddled. "You realize cyborgs have to sleep, right?"

"Oh. I just assumed I didn't need to anymore. You know, like eating and showering."

"Showering is still recommended."

"Oh."

He smiles a little, motions awkwardly at the bed. "There's enough room for you."

"No, I can just — if you would prefer — like, as long as you're comfortable, I could do whatever."

"So... I couldn't tell, was that a yes or a no?"

"I don't know either."

"Hope you figure it out then."

He turns out the lights. I sigh, pinching my eyes. That was difficult to live through. My mouth is one of my few human parts left but apparently it's still capable of malfunctioning.

I get up and go to the bed, shimmy under the covers. Every part of my body is heavy. I'm drifting within seconds.

I hear his voice through the haze.

"Goodnight, Minho."

I smile. "Goodnight, Jisung."