The chilly October wind nibbled at Joan's skin, raising goosebumps as she pushed open the plastic flaps that hung on the door.
She stepped into an open living room. The inside was made of concrete and covered in brown discoloration from water, most of which sat around the floor and lower portions of the wall. There had been a flood at some point.
The left and right walls had two entrances covered by plastic flaps, each leading into separate rooms. On the far wall was a small makeshift kitchen. A plastic faucet protruded from a hole in the wall and fed into a little red plastic bucket. A portable gas stove was plugged into the wall next to the red bucket and had a used metal pot sitting on top of it.
Inside the pot sat a spatula covered in a decade worth of rust.
Joan could sense nearby figures. Each room had four people in it except for one room on Joan's left. She picked up on soft chatter and the laughter that emanated from each room.
"Hello?" she called out.
The chatter abruptly stopped, and a man's head peaked out from the far right room. His black hair was tousled, but his face was clean and free from facial hair. He looked in his 30s and stared right at Joan.
"Ay, boss," he called out. "Got a fancy lookin' visitor."
The man's head retreated into the plastic flaps, and the noise of chatter surged once more.
An elderly man exited the room on the far left. He had gray streaks in his hair and tanned skin from many days spent laboring under the heat of the summer sun. He flashed a kind smile at Joan, emphasizing the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes.
He scanned her over and said, "What's a little girl like you doing here? Ran away from home? You best go back before midnight."
"No, I'm here to rent," Joan said with a straight face.
"Your parents must be worried about you. Go and hurry on home, alright?" the man said as he approached her, urging her to leave.
As he approached her, she inhaled the distinctive old person scent she hadn't smelled in years. She wondered if this was what her grandparents would smell like if she ever met them.
"I don't have parents."
"Got the money for a room?"
Joan glanced at Project: Kill that hovered around her right ear.
"General left you 100 dollars in your pocket," it chirped in her head.
She casually glanced back at the man before her. Sticking her hand in her pocket, she rummaged around, fishing for the 100 dollars. But she only came across a single paper bill.
Had Li Bo left her a 100 dollar banknote? Ah, she'd have no money left after this.
Pulling the single banknote from her pocket, she said, "I'll pay for two months upfront."
***
After signing a contract with the kind elder man and nearly introducing herself as Joan Oaks instead of Rem Oaks, she finally entered her room.
It was no more than 200 square feet. Along the wall of the narrow room were two bunk beds. Opposite of it sat a single dresser with clothes spilling out of a drawer's confinement as if they were trying to escape.
The room had one woman sitting on the bottom far bunk counting banknotes. Her hair was dyed a soft purple, but her roots were dark brown. She had a masculine aura and toned figure, likely built from hours of manual labor.
The woman licked her thumb and shuffled through her stack of banknotes. After counting, she pulled out a locked box from under her bed and shoved the notes inside.
Looking up, the woman saw Joan enter the room. "Newbie?" she asked.
"Yeah. Rem Oaks," Joan introduced herself. Her previous self existed in this timeline, so she had to assume another identity.
"Ada Chun," the woman nodded at her. "Both top bunks are empty. Another kid has the other bottom bunk."
After looking over Joan, Ada Chun asked, "No luggage? You look like you're from downtown with all that techwear."
"No luggage," Joan affirmed. She ignored the woman's comment about her looks and climbed into the top bunk after peeling off her sneakers.
"Is there a guy named Navier Barr here?" Joan asked.
Ada Chun hummed. "That's the kid on the bunk below you. Why? Know him? Your ex?" She laughed at the thought.
"I go to school with him."
"Mmm. He hasn't been back for a few days."
***
Those 'few days' turned into a week. Just where was this guy? Joan desperately needed her reward money for this 'mini-mission' so she could buy new clothes and food. For the past few days, she had been eating a quarter stick of sausage for each meal, given to her out of pity from Ada Chun.
"How much reward money do I get?" Joan asked Project: Kill one day as she leaned back on her bed.
"Eh, you were serious about that?"
"Did you think I was joking? You made Rem Oaks 16. I can't legally get a job until two years from now."
Project: Kill pondered her question before saying, "100?"
"100? How generous." Joan smiled to herself.
"Eugh, you look like a psychopathic."
The corners of Joan's mouth twitched.
"Just where is Navier Barr?" Joan switched the subject. "Think I could find him at his school?"
"Likely. He attends M High School on the outskirts of Plover."
As the sun peeked over the horizon the next day, Joan followed Project: Kill's directions to M High School. On her way there, she couldn't help but feel like she was in the wrong year. The slums had no access to the technology Joan was used to seeing in downtown. The area looked more like the early 2000s than the late 2060s.
M High School was a depressive concrete building lined with rectangular windows. The school hours had already begun, so the building was rather quiet when she walked in.
Her plan had been to register and go to class as soon as possible, but the registration process took a gruesome amount of time.
A middle-aged woman with inch long, blood-red, nail extensions sat in the office and typed in Joan's information at snails-pace as if she were trying to prolong Joan's stay so she wouldn't have to do other, more tedious work.
Joan registered under her new identity, Rem Oaks, and had her face scanned. By now, one's face was all one needed. Facial recognition could link a person with all their necessary information, be it a birth certificate or driver's license.
Internally, Joan dreaded going to school. She had no recollection of her previous high school experience and had never stepped foot in a high school for the past 50 years.
But she was desperate to find Navier Barr and get her reward money.
By the time she had finished registering in 11th grade, it was noon, and she was guided to class by the same mind-numbingly slow lady who had enrolled her in the office.
"Here's your class," the woman drawled. She stood outside of class 2-3. "Your teacher will introduce you."
Joan nodded and pushed open the sliding door, and 20 some pairs of young eyes stared at her as she walked in. She couldn't help but feel a little awkward attending the same class as children nearly 60 years younger than her.
Scanning the classroom, she whispered, "Is Navier in here?"
Students were arranged in rows of five by five, staring at the teacher at the front of the classroom. Joan scanned over the faces of the students one by one, attempting to figure out which one was most likely Navier Barr.
She figured he was likely a strong kid, considering he'd enlist in the military after high school, so she singled out the more toned boys in the class. But none looked out of the ordinary. All had short black hair and lively, impatient eyes that yearned for the school bell to ring. None looked like the toned, smart young boy she imagined in her mind.
"There! There! There!" Project: Kill exclaimed, pointing with his little finger to a boy sitting near the window at the back of the class. "That's Navier Barr."
Joan glanced at the boy whose uncombed hair stuck out in all directions, and school uniform hung too loose on his malnourished body.
"That's Navier Barr?! You're telling me that stick goes to the military after high school? And he survived?" Joan asked in surprise.