Neither Uari nor Wizah slept well, plagued by what-ifs and what-nexts. He could hear Wizah tossing and turning in bed, and eventually, she threw off her covers in a huff to shamelessly harass him into being fully awake.
"What will you do next?"
Wizah had asked him that as they began to plan. His original desire had been to simply learn about them and then flee with Iria, but there was something bothering him about what the Gravts were doing. In short, he was fulfilling his civic duty as a citizen of the Southernlands and ensuring that nothing was, uh...threatening the public order.
Whether or not the Gravts were dangerous remained to be seen, but public order needed to be maintained so he could live peacefully with Iria.
Memory wiping Wizah was suspicious, but their infiltrations of the AgroAuthority and potentially other influential institutions were also concerning. It was somewhat clear to him that Ghost was attempting to build a way back to their original universe, but it bothered him that Wizah hadn't known how they'd gotten here in the first place. He didn't know what they were going to do.
He'd turned the question back on Wizah to deflect, and she'd clenched her teeth. "Honestly, I'd like to just leave, but I'm almost certain they won't just let us go." She glanced at him. "Especially not you."
"So what next?"
"What do you think? We gotta get them to think we're dead, or something."
"And their plans for the way back?"
"I don't give a shit what they do. I just don't want to be made to do shit against my will. Or memory wiped again without my consent."
Alright, that was fair. He could work with that: turn up dead, escape with Iria, live happily. "If Ozcar uses her Fisherman ability on a dead person, does it work?"
Wizah winced. "Corpse if it's a new death. Other things if it's been some time, depending on how they were...uh, processed, I guess."
"So, faking our death?"
"Not viable," she sulked. There was some metal powder on her cheek. He didn't bother telling her.
One other thing had bothered him: his status within the Gravts. He had gotten Wizah to spill what she knew, and he hadn't enjoyed it. Old Uari seemed like a goody-two-shoes, and he minded this personality being projected onto him.
There was no light coming through the slats of the window when they reassembled around her low table to plan, but by the time they were done the light had begun to turn searing from the heat of the noon. Climate change had made daytime near-unbearable for the entirety of humanity across the globe, and the unbounded use of cooling technology was probably accelerating the cooking of their planet.
For a species that prided itself on its intellect, humans were collectively no better than other animals that prioritised their individual wants over group survival.
They packed up quickly, aware that several dangerous people were on their tail. Exchanging information was good and fine, but staying in one place for too long had its downsides.
Iria would need to remain at Hykel's for a while. He wouldn't be stupid enough to visit her although he was close by, and would trust Hykel to keep her safe instead.
The midday sun burned them as they split up temporarily to gather supplies; mostly, Uari refilled his food supplies and got himself another useless toy—this one wrote a webnovel chapter every day or so to publish online before indulging himself slightly in two things.
The first thing he did was return briefly to the ghetto. He'd picked up several pieces of information while robbing the weapons store before; primarily, that there was someone in the ghettos who could create another digital identity.
Identity was a difficult thing to address and was made up of two parts: physical identities and digital identities. All residents were required to register both with the Authorities, with no exceptions. Anonymity was no longer allowed within digital domains—hadn't been for almost a hundred years now.
He couldn't use his digital identity without risking being hacked or tracked or both, so he needed a new one, and maybe one for Wizah too.
He'd see what he could get out of this person. He still had a copy of that Gejuth beggar's appearance on his ring, so he borrowed that identity once again just in case.
The slums surrounded Gildest like the outskirts of a city, and Yan Guowen was located on the completely opposite side of Wizah's clinic and home, in a slate slumhouse apartment that reeked of cartridge smoke and hot metal. Uari found unit 12 quickly, and rapped on the door.
No one answered.
"Yan Guowen, I can just as easily break down the door." He studied his nails while he waited, saying nothing incriminating otherwise.
The door opened cautiously. A dirty youth who looked slightly younger than Io gave him the blandest expression he had ever seen in his life, and stepped aside to let him in. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it behind them both, and sat down on a couch.
Filthy he might be, but Uari wasn't blind. Dull phoenix eyes sat on a face that still had remnants of baby fat. A slender body, almost malnourished, with scars criss-crossing over hands that could otherwise have been that of a pianist. Unkempt black hair hung around his face.
This boy had won the genetic lottery and looked like he had suffered for it. There was a scar on his throat, a raised welt that couldn't be ignored. He didn't hide it. Uari understood well enough.
Yan Guowen had said nothing this entire time, so Uari opened his mouth first and didn't bother beating around the bush. "I need a new digital identity. Heard you could help."
Without any hesitation, the boy pulled up his portable Interface and projected a single screen, listing the various services available and their respective prices. A new identity would have cost Uari three years of salary as a Searcher.
It was nothing for him as is. "30 percent now, 70 percent after you're done."
The youth shook his head, and pointed at the payment terms listed at the bottom of the page. Uari squinted to read them. "50-50 payment terms, huh. Well, alright."
He hated negotiations, and 50-50 was fine. He pulled out the cash; the youth received it quietly, looking like he was used to dealing in untraceable currencies and nothing else. Was he even of age to have a bank account of his own?
"How long will it take?"
Yan Guowen flicked the Interface screen, and a new table appeared to show him the time it would take. "An hour? That's fast."
He flicked the screen again. I work fast, it said.
Mirth flooded his veins. "Alright. I'll wait here while you finish."
Yan Guowen nodded, and left for the next room. Uari took it as an invitation to follow.