Fortress

«A.B.» Chapter I

Fortress
Fragment 2
"A.B."
2083

I

The light from holograms and neon signs filtered faintly through the foggy windows of the train, dampened by the December chill. Sitting in the carriage and trying to make out something, you couldn't quite understand where you were. All the skyscrapers seemed identical, and all the screens on them seemed to show the same thing. Even without the foggy glass, looking at the streets of Fortress, one might catch the same thought. The monorail that spanned the entire city center towered above the streets, obscuring the sky.

The train screeched to a halt, and a pleasant female voice came through the carriage speakers: "Three Towers Square Metro Station."

A young man in a gray coat with a high raised collar, who had been dozing off for several stops, opened his eyes. Apparently seeing his stop, he jumped up and rushed out just as the doors were closing. After descending the elevator to street level, he leaned against the wall and pulled a cigarette from his coat's inner pocket.

"Damn city," he sighed and took a deep drag. A call interface appeared before his eyes, and a melody played in his head.

"Andrew, where are you?"

"I'll be there in five minutes, Yan."

"Sure, twenty minutes then."

Taking a couple more drags, he threw the cigarette onto the pavement and began walking.

Turning off the broad avenue, Andrew entered April Scott Street, a place drowning in neon signs, holograms, and fluorescent graffiti. He squeezed through the crowd, weaving deeper into the street and occasionally glancing at the holograms of strippers at the entrances to strip clubs and brothels. The neon signs of various bars and shops blinded him, yet at the same time highlighted the essence of the place-chaos. At the end, the street widened, revealing the nightclub "Mosuo," where Andrew was heading. A young man with long black hair was smoking at the entrance.

"Finally," he said.

"Nice to see you too, Yan. Is the stage ready?"

"Just need to finish setting up the lights."

"Good," Andrew replied with relief, lighting another cigarette. "Have they told you who the client is?"

"No, but I'm guessing it's some politician who doesn't want to ruin his reputation."

"And where's Candy?"

"Lounging on the leather sofa inside. Said he's never sat on a couch worth more than a few hundred nayuns¹."

"You need to get used to the good life too."

They both tossed their cigarette butts onto the pavement and headed into the club.

"I'll head to the stage, you go through registration. The security here checks every inch," Yan said, irritated.

"Sounds like you've had a fun story with them."

"Oh, they searched me like I was a Chinese spy. They tore apart my guitar case, and now it's all scratched. You know what they found?"

"A guitar?"

"Exactly! A guitar in a guitar case! Can you imagine?"

"You sure they didn't have a reason? Your pupils don't look quite right," Andrew teased.

"A couple puffs of red dust, nothing serious, just for courage."

"So that's why you're so... energetic. Get to the stage, Yan," Andrew patted his friend on the shoulder, "I'll catch up soon."