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Memory Shard 1.06 Me and My Little Friends contains the fifth piece of lore on Prisma Dimensions, Neo Arcadia and the Hyper Scape.
Location[]
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Story[]
“Tell your friend I don’t do the commitment thing,” Mint purred as she shouldered through a crack in the chain-link fence. A nice touch, she thought. Blocking off a no-go zone with a recognizable trope like that. But far too dependent on the hope that institutional authority was something universally respected.
Mint ran her algorithms. The code twitched away from her hands, trailing light. She watched as they seeped into the environment. The only indication of success was a soft bing resonating through the air. There’s always a flaw, thought Mint, as she moved past the fence, the world splintered at the edges. Here, the textures of the buildings glitched. The light pixelated.
“What would it take to tie me down? I don’t know. Absolute devotion, maybe. Wouldn't hurt if they could kick buttock too. I—” Mint paused. She scanned the darkness. “Hang on.”
There was a door in front of her: low-rez, without shadow or real dimension, a primitive graphic meant to represent a point of entry and nothing else. Clearly intended for use by authorized personnel only.
“I’ll get back to you.”
Mint grinned. She triggered her skeleton-key algorithm again. Another bing, and Mint stepped inside.
She never liked playing by the rules.
It was a Training Zone, not unlike the one each new B-link user experienced on their first trip into the HYPER SCAPE. This version, though, was reserved for governments and their war games, the security architecture so profoundly watertight they’d become a kind of Holy Grail among Mint and her peers: break the code and be revered forever.
And here it was.
Open, freely accessible, absent of anyone and anything except for the human-shaped figures slumped along a slate-grey wall, and the two fighters in a central arena. They were beautiful.
They moved without error, no stutter of human hesitation, alien, exquisite, every commander’s dream: the fighters sparred their way through a gauntlet of weapons both old and new, real and fantastical.
Mint approached, fascinated. She didn’t recognize the avatar models, but she knew they were military-grade, state-of-the-art.
She took another step forward.
The fighters turned.
Mint hesitated, unsure if they were reacting to her.
Then, a low droning noise sounded and the fighters walked themselves back to the walls, sat down, the cobalt light of their eyes cataracting with white.
Mint followed after. She went down to a squat and cupped one of the fighter’s cheeks –alone among its peers, it had white armor instead of black -- in a palm, her own mouth crooking into a grin.
“Hello there, gorgeous.” She grinned. “You’re going to be fun.”
“Sooooo, who’s this? New crush? I heard you were on the prowl again.”
Where does she get her info? Mint hid her irritation behind a grin, sloping a sly look over her shoulder. “Her? Oh. No. Nothing like that.”
“No?” said the other woman. Nahari was an infrequent customer, something Mint was glad for. She asked too many questions and gave too little reasons for them. “Well, I’d go out with her,” Nahari said. “She’s striking. But if she’s not a new flame, who is she?”
Mint thought about it for a minute.
“New bodyguard,” said Mint, her smile more teeth than appropriate. “Due to the unorthodox nature of my business, people sometimes think they can forgo payment. Rook is here to help with that. Now, how were you intending to pay for my services today? Credit or barter?”