[Mini-Mission 1: Meet Navier.]
"Meet Navier Barr?" Joan muttered to herself as she filed into the bus. The people around her chattered and occasionally bumped into each other while muttering apologies. Almost all of the seats on the bus were occupied, be it a purse or a human.
Once she made it to the middle of the bus, Joan latched onto one of the many handlebars. People flooded in to fill the space around her, much like sardines in a can.
"Say, what's my reward when I complete the mission?"
"Reward?"
"My service isn't free," Joan rolled her eyes.
Project: Kill hummed and appeared to be in deep thought. "Money?"
"Money? From where? Are you employed?"
Project: Kill humphed. "If I can register you in the government database, then why wouldn't I be able to get some money? I'm not as useless as you are."
"Useless? Who do you think is doing the mission? You or me?"
"Eugh, how scary! What's with that expression on your face?"
Was it calling her ugly?! The frown on Joan's face deepened. Her grip around the protruding bus strap tightened. But upon feeling the polyurethane material distort under her iron grip, she loosened her grip. She had to control her strength in public.
"How am I supposed to find Navier? Do you know how big China is? Massive," Joan scowled. A few curious passengers gave her puzzled looks, and she realized how insane she must look talking to thin air.
"What do you think they installed me for? Just so that you could have another fancy chip in you?"
"You know where he is?" Joan asked.
"I have his address."
"So, we're going to go stalk him?"
"Only if you want to," Project: Kill said as it curiously landed on the head of a nearby man.
"You have some attitude for an AI system," Joan jabbed.
Project: Kill turned to look at her. Its beady eyes were hollow, and its ears twitched, making the holographic rodent appear to be alive.
"And you're rather ugly for a girl," Project: Kill snapped.
"You can't even see me! You're a chip! Your eyes are my eyes!"
"I don't have to see you to know you're ugly."
Baffled, Joan raised her eyebrows. The conversation was unbelievably childish, and she wanted to scold herself. Her mental age was in the 70s! She shouldn't be behaving like a child.
A hand approaching her butt startled Joan. Did someone dare to try and grope her? Were they aware that they were trying to grope a 70-year-old woman? Although the bus was jam-packed, she could still sense the presence and movements of those around her.
She snapped her head and slapped the hand away from her.
Pa!
A loud slap resonated inside the bus, silencing the relentless chatter around her. The young man who had gone to touch Joan recoiled quickly. His face distorted in pain as he held his throbbing hand.
Blood rushed to his injured hand, creating a stark contrast to his ghost-white skin that had never seen the sun. The joint in his wrist bent at such an unnatural angle even a seasoned doctor would wince.
His black hair was overgrown and shadowed his eyes. The clothing he wore looked many days old, and the signature sour odor of sweat permeated from his body. His massive build towered over Joan, and the muscles bulging from under his clothing gave Joan an insight into his gym junkie lifestyle.
"Ah, bitch!" the man growled and glowered at her. His outburst attracted the attention of multiple people who subsequently pulled their phones from their pockets to record the action.
Joan nonchalantly turned away from him.
But her plan to ignore him was interrupted when he raised his right hand into the air, threatening to slap her. She immediately grabbed his hand with her left hand and slapped his cheek with her right palm.
Pa!
Only after she hit him did she let go of his hand.
The slap was louder than the previous, and the man's head snapped to his right as he stumbled back, crashing into onlookers behind him. His eyes were blown wide, and his cheeks were flushed red. Was it due to anger or embarrassment from being hit by a girl? Joan didn't quite know.
Multiple gasps erupted from the onlooking passengers. Was it a couple quarreling? Had that tall boy cheated on her?
Tears welled up in the young man's eyes, and he fearfully retreated to the front of the bus. At the next stop, Joan saw the man tearfully exit the bus while gripping his red hand.
"Wimp," Joan muttered to herself.
"You should control your strength," Project: Kill suggested. "It'll be suspicious if you appear too strong."
"If controlling my strength means getting groped, then no thank you, I will not control my strength against horny teenagers thinking the world revolves around them."
Suddenly, Joan's body froze. Her senses were alert, but she couldn't move her body. Her long hair swaying with the bus tickled her back, but the rest of her body was frozen. She tried to open her mouth, but she was completely paralyzed.
"A warning," Project: Kill said, shaking its little mouse finger at her.
What was this? Was Project: Kill shaking its finger at her? Did the scientists of the intelligence unit design it after a grandmother?
Joan's body relaxed, and she felt her body's motor controls returned to her. After Project: Kill's 'warning', Joan had no doubt in her mind about Project: Kill's ability to kill her.
***
Joan rested her chin in her palm as she mindlessly stared out the window. By now, the sun had begun to set, and the bus was completely empty except for her.
Project: Kill had refused to let her off the bus proclaiming she wasn't at the right stop yet.
As the bus drove further and further away from downtown, Joan's shock gradually grew. They were in the slums. The bus hardly fit in the narrow streets as they passed run-down homes after run-down homes.
Many brick buildings were on the verge of collapse, and some had already fallen.
"Are we in the slums?" Joan asked Project: Kill.
Project: Kill hummed in confirmation. "Welcome to Plover's slums, Navier's home."
Joan was shocked. In the 2050s, the government had made extensive efforts to eliminate the slums in major cities and lift people out of poverty.
As far as she knew, their efforts had come to fruition. But this didn't look like a success to her. People ducked in and out of low doorways, and the gloomy brown starkly contrasted the bright neon lights of downtown.
The bus ground to a halt in front of a shabby-looking bus station with a collapsing sun-shield.
"Last stop!" the bus driver's baritone voice called out to her.
Joan stood from her seat and slowly descended the steps of the bus. As she took her last step down, the bus doors slammed behind her, and its engines roared into the distance, sputtering and wheezing.
The green tin roof of the bus station was on the verge of collapse. Its four green metal support stand looked multiple years old, and speckles and streaks of brown rust marred its outer coating.
Very few streetlights illuminated the narrow alley. The lights flickered on and off, illuminating strange shapes in the shadows.
But although the slums were in bad shape, lively chatter and the noises of life filled the street. People ducked in and out of their homes, and some strolled down the alley.
"Are you sure you got the right address?" Joan said warily.
"Positive," Project: Kill chirped. "Just take a right here, continue down the alley, and you'll be there."
Joan did as it said, and slowly meandered down the narrow street. This was a part of Plover she had never seen before.
And as she made her way through the slums, she saw a young mother pushing her giggling daughter on a makeshift swing. Two ropes suspended an old blue office chair, and the young girl no more than seven years old happily swung.
Shirtless men squatted on the sides of streets with a cigarette in hand, laughing with whoever ended up smoking at the same time as them.
Joan couldn't quite understand how such poverty-stricken citizens could be so… carefree and… happy.
Some gave her odd glances, and Joan couldn't help but feel like she stood out. Her clothing was something someone in downtown would wear if they had the money.
"We've arrived," Project: Kill said. "It's this building to your left."
To Joan's left was a considerably large building compared to the 100 to 200 square foot homes she had seen on the way here. She approximated the structure to be 1000 square feet. The bricks of the wall were poorly laid, with each brick set in a different angle than its neighbor. A hole in the wall covered by a thin sheet of plastic was the sole entrance to the building.
A little cardboard sign sat outside the building and said in big, bold letters, "HOSTEL - $1.50 PER NIGHT - 2 VACANCIES".
"It's a hostel…" Joan noted.
"Welcome to Navier's humble abode," Project: Kill said while hovering around Joan's head.