The Deadman

There’s a person that has been annoying her lately.

A person who always wore a façade of stoicism to hide most of his true self. She recalled at first how calm spoken he was.  How level his voice was and how inquisitive he was. He was trying not to show it, but the way he acted was like a mercenary that had recently come to the city. He is familiar with the city.

He is virile and there’s this sense of strength in him. A tall muscular man without any Ganics was always a sight for sore eyes. But he had that look on his eyes that she could recognize. That certain look that her grandfather had when grieving for a love lost.

She felt that if she poked. He’d closed like a Mimosa Plan that she’d like poking. That was the feeling that she always got from him. A person who was lost.

She had the chance to interact with him. And although she does feel closer to this new friend of hers. He wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t open his wounds.

Not for anyone. Not even for himself.

And yet as time passed she somewhat understood that he seemed the type to seek conversations. He is quite easy to talk to. She liked that about him. He was not a man who would shy from conversations. He didn’t mind it and sometimes would flirt jokingly. But most of the time he was a professional.

A courier who delivers packages successfully. A capable man with the instincts and intuition that allow him to become a platinum courier for Mr. Pei. She had heard of Mr. Pei and his warehouse from her Boss. And in this city he was one of the courier services that stayed neutral to the affair of the faction. Of course, provoking Mr. Pei was also a quick way to get his vets to hunt you down.

So in a way to be a successful courier means that he had the wits. Even Alice, her best friend who was a proud decker, a security consultant was rather impressed by how he conducted himself.

It was a small world.

And as a bartender she hears stories and tales that she couldn’t imagine getting herself to. She confessed that if she was the one in such a situation, she would soil herself.

She knew that she wasn’t a fighter. She knew her lot and was glad of it. She did try to be a chemist for a big company, but that went so badly that she could only be a bartender.

And Gu, who was usually not fond of the bar she worked on spilled that even without implants. Robert was a fighter. Plat-Couriers usually had this thing where they convinced people to give up on some of the high paying jobs. They tried this on Robert and what they got was a broken jaw, legs facing a different direction, and cyberware that got their metal bent.

“Robert has this contained fury in him. Trying to give that bastard a reason to hurt you is not a good choice in life.”

And despite that she felt no different.

She didn’t know when it started, but she started to become nosy. Talking to this man pretending to be alright. She enjoyed their chat together and in a way she appreciated that he was a gentleman who wasn’t afraid to joke around.

How she started hanging around with this kinda feller. She didn’t know. It just became natural to chat with the guy after visiting the bar far too many times.

Or that she just appreciated the guy for taking him home out of boredom. And it was hard to find a  guy in this shithole of a city that didn’t want to get into their pants. And she doubts that he had any other intention when he seems always hung up about something.

For a man who could have spent the money he earned to play around. He was quite docile, like a Eunuch that held no interest other than staring blankly, drinking, and delivering his packages. Even Mimi, who was quite proud of her looks, felt rather awful that she was ignored. Then again, she did ask for something that might have turned him off.

The bar was quiet today. John’s texting his girlfriend and the only customer they had was Mr. Elton who wanted to get some peace and quiet after a job. He was a mercenary who liked quiet bars.

The door rang. A customer with his rifle slung on his side walked in and ordered a whiskey sour and some snacks. The mercenary quietly drank and turned his attention to the television.

“Terrorist.”

“Or so I heard.”

The mercenary scowls. “This Politya is running around the Union. Tearing folks apart. You heard about them, bartender?”

“I did.”

She heard news about a terrorist organization that wanted and demand the Union to get out of the deal they made with the African Warlords, calling it a violation of the trust of the people of the Union.

They were people that were trying to brand themselves as Seekers of Peace while proving themselves as madmen that are willing to involve innocents in their ‘righteous crusade’.

“Troublesome people.”

“You don’t know half of it. I’ve been in Slovenia lately. And I have met with these assholes trying to force a fight with Romanians. I tell you now that they aren’t peaceful. They just want to be better than the rest of these people. They are fanatics.”

The man said with this incredible rage.

“I hope they stay away from this city.”

“Lot of rumors are going on that they are planning something here. You should be careful. They’ve been targeting chemical factories.”

“That’s concerning.”

She crosses her arms and then serves the mercenary another drink. After four drinks, the mercenary left, leaving the bar quiet. She took her break, went behind the alley, and lit her cigarette. She looked at the snow and then dragged her leg, tracing a path.

She leaned on the side and then calmly gazed at the concrete monoliths and pillars supporting the structures of the city painted in the color of snow. There were no drone-ads infesting the skies and through the gap she could see snowfall.

Tons of snow being blown away and dispersed on the outskirts of the city. She could hear the sound of it regardless of the noise. As she settled down, she saw an older gentleman, who had implant lines all over his face, and body approach.

“Pardon me, Miss. But do you know of this person?”

The man took out a photograph. In the photograph was a familiar face. That placid face. That blank stare. He wore a suit while strapped with old weapons. He was listening to a group whose faces were hidden from the camera. On the bottom of the picture was a date from a long time ago. 

“1997?”

“An old picture.”

“Wow, Robert’s face looks like his grandfather.”

“Robert… it seems that Mr. Oswald's son had taken after the name of his grandfather.”

“Wow, it must be the genes,” Julie then glared. “So, what are you looking for?”

“Meeting the descendants of folks who made a different,” the old man took out a cigar, which seems to be Cuban, and tried to lit it his cigar.

“You have some light?”

She fished out her lighter and lit the older gentleman’s cigar. “Are you sure that you should smoke, sir?”

“I’m mostly synthetic now. I am actually nearing my 140th birthday.”

“You… are ancient, Sir.”

“I was just in time when we have somewhat solved the issues of aging. I got the Rejuvenant treatment after my service to my country. I had thought I was retired… but the world’s a chaotic place.”

Julie nodded. “That it is, sir. You’re not from around here, aren’t you, Sir?”

“I came here to visit. I have… memories of this place.”

“Good ones?”

“Bad ones. The City hasn’t changed. No, the name changed, but it’s still a place full of degenerates.”

“One hell of a comment for it, sir.”

“I have quite the memory of this place back in 1997. See that rugged fella? That’s me.”

“I see… really. You look quite the looker. Hmm, you must be one hell of a fighter, sir. I’m surprised you’d tell me this.”

“Old men living this long isn’t new as long as you have the money. I even know people older than me. They were barely alive when they got the treatment and like me they are synthetic. Synthetic body with a brain regenerated to prevent dementia and aging.  Sometimes, I don’t remember much of the old days. And when I do it’s the harsher days.”

The old man took a long drag of his cigar.

Julie chewed on the butt of her cigarette. She checked the time and then leaned.

“Sir, really, what are you here for?”

“I just want to meet an old friend.”

The old man raised his hands. “I have a piece on me, but that’s mostly for self defense. I came here to talk… let’s just say that there are things that have been left unsaid.”

She wondered what it was. It was then that she heard the familiar revving of a motorcycle. Robert slowed down, took his helmet off, and stared at the old man smoking a cigar.

There was an uneasy stare between. Robert’s face was always solid and unmoved. But yet there was something else that was burning. It was a face that was unlike what she had ever seen from Robert.

“You know him, Rob?”

“I might know who he is.”

“Man, you really like your great grandfather, Rob.”

“Is that so?”

The old man handed a picture. Robert’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

“1997… it seems like Grandad got blindsided. Didn’t think this would exist.”

Julie looked at the picture again. “It’s eerie how you and your Grandfather look. Hmm, no, you look more rugged than your grandfather. But there are similarities.”

“My family has a way of looking similar. It doesn’t matter. Grandad… he died somewhere and never came back. He never did return.”

Robert behaved as if he was inwardly wrestling with himself. There was a lot of going on in his eyes. Recollection of memories that have passed and gone.

“Let’s speak, Rob.”

She called out. She looked at the old man. “Do you mind?”

“No, I need to finish my cigar, anyway.”

She led him deep into the alley. She crossed her arms and looked apologetic.

“Did I fucked up and should have stayed quiet?”

“Not at all. I… have an idea what this person may want. Don’t worry, it’s not like he has a gun on our heads or something. Are you worried about me?”

“I am,” Julie said sternly. “I worry for my friend. I know you can handle yourself… but even I can tell that man is bad news.”

“Got one hell of an instinct right there, Julie. Also, a friend huh?”

“What? Got any problem with that, asshole?”

“No, it’s nice to hear it from your degenerate mouth.”

“I am not a degenerate.”

She grabbed his collar and stared at his eyes “You be careful with that old man. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t sit well with him. That old fossil’s probably up to no good.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I should talk to him.”

Robert turned his back. 

“Hey, you should attend the Christmas Party that we’ll be having. It’s not like you have anything to do.”

“I’ll try to see if I can.”

Julie dropped her cigarette as she saw that sudden change of expression that Robert had before turning away. She took a step forward and found herself unable to move. She watched him leave with the old man.

“See you around?”

Julie’s voice didn’t reach him.

When Christmas finally came.

As she celebrated with John, her Boss, and a few of the customers who had no place to go. Julie found herself looking at the door, somewhat hoping that he’d come.

Robert Oswald never arrived that day.

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