Clenching his fists to stifle the shudders of agony, Rio sucked in a deep breath upon receiving the news.
A familiar beep emanated from his Analytron Device nestled in his pocket as he strolled down the bustling street. The short, high-pitched sound signaled the arrival of significant news.
As dusk unfurled its soft embrace over the heart of the UK, cafes and pubs spilled their inviting warmth onto the pavement. Rio's eyes scanned the rows of eateries, each vying for attention as their interiors illuminated with the promise of evening delights.
Just as he contemplated settling for a few slices of pizza in a nearby store, the beep seized his attention. Whenever Isa, the sole confidant privy to his true identity, purchased a NeoCredix Card, Rio made it a point to scrutinize all the beeping news that surfaced that day.
Rio pressed on the notification.
Breaking news: Attempted Bank Robbery Foiled, Suspect Apprehended.
"Good evening, I'm Robert Smith. We bring you breaking news as law enforcement successfully thwarted an attempted bank robbery earlier today..."
Rio switched off the news without bothering to delve into the details. Even in ignorance, he knew Isa had been caught. In this era, attempting to lay hands on bank money was a recklessness nobody dared to indulge in. The security system of the bank was a fortress, so impervious that even the slightest, unauthorized intrusion would trigger its vigilant defenses.
Isa had narrowly escaped the clutches of the law on two prior occasions when attempting to rob the bank. The government, fearing a cascade of aspiring criminals, had chosen to bury those incidents in secrecy. But once apprehended, they made it a point to broadcast it to every nook and cranny of the country, ensuring the message reverberated: nobody would slip through the cracks of justice.
Justice? Rio shook his head in disbelief. The justice that Isa had aspired to deliver for the humans in the forsaken province of Slateville. Justice aimed at ensuring basic living conditions for those forgotten souls. It was the justice the government had pledged, assuring equal treatment for all three species, but had faltered in execution.
These were the things that Rio failed to see during his time as a SynthHuman.
Isa, a supposed unnamed hero fighting against the government to save humans, now found himself in the clutches of a government controlled by Synthetiks and SynthHumans. Rio was well aware that, after attempting such a crime, they would ensure Isa never saw daylight again.
The purple and orange hues in the sky seemed to mourn alongside Rio for the fall of a hero. Ironically, even the color of the sky was manipulated by the government to influence the moods and behaviors of humans.
Choosing to divert his path, Rio meandered into the bar adjacent to the pizza store he had initially intended to visit. Drinking wasn't his usual recourse, but tonight, he needed the numbing embrace of alcohol to dull the anguish of losing a dear friend.
As Rio pushed open the heavy wooden door, the vibrant energy of the bar hit him like a tidal wave. The air crackled with the intoxicating hum of conversation, laughter, and the lively pulse of live music. The aroma of aged wood and spirits intertwined, creating an atmosphere that whispered tales of countless revelries.
He found a quiet corner and was immediately greeted by a waiter.
"What would you like to have?" asked the young waiter with a polite smile.
"Whiskey, please," replied Rio, letting the live music wash over him like a comforting tide.
It took Rio a moment to realize the waiter had not left even after he placed his order. Rio glanced up at the waiter, "Just whiskey. Thanks."
The waiter nodded, "What about a glass of coke?"
A surge of hot indignation coursed through Rio as the question landed like an unwarranted blow. The waiter was a Synthetik. The perfect human appearance with an inhumane knowledge of Rio's preferences—he was undoubtedly a Synthetik.
In the world Rio resided in, humans remained humans, Synthetiks wore human skins to look as real as possible, and SynthHumans left no chance to display the Pastolium part on their bodies.
In Slateville, where most humans resided, local stores and shops couldn't afford to hire a Synthetik. A Synthetik could remember a customer's habits and favorites, making suggestions accordingly. In Slateville, everyone was just trying to survive.
The rage burning within him stemmed solely from the unwarranted suggestion. The Synthetik knew all too well that Rio despised the burning sensation left by whiskey in his throat and preferred Coke. On any ordinary day, Rio might have dismissed the suggestion, but today—especially today, when his friend was arrested by one of the Synthetiks for his attempt to save his people — he wouldn't yield to such prompts.
A forceful punch onto the table startled the patrons nearby, but the waiter remained unfazed. Rio locked his gaze onto the Synthetik's eyes, saying with firmness, "No Coke. I only want whiskey."
The waiter nodded again and left without another suggestion, "As you wish."
Digging his fingers into his unruly hair, Rio's head hung low as he grappled with the anguish of losing his friend. The scar on his face twitched as he closed his eyes tightly, attempting to find solace.
After a long moment, a soft thud sounded at his table, indicating that the waiter had delivered his drink.
"Your whiskey, sir." Even without looking up, Rio knew it was the same Synthetik waiter.
The Synthetik, understanding the gravity of the situation, did not wait for Rio to acknowledge before moving on to the next table to take orders.
Rio's eyes fixated on the glass of golden-brown liquid. Despite the wave of nausea rising in his stomach at the thought of downing the whiskey, Rio fought the resistance. As his fingers tightly wrapped around the glass, he took a substantial gulp.
The Synthetik would not dictate what he wanted; Rio swallowed his pride with each fiery gulp, resisting the manipulation embedded in the suggestion.
In the dimly lit bar, the glass sat heavy in his hand, a vessel of liquid anger that mirrored the turbulent sea of emotions within.
It was now, a clear and crisp voice next to his table spoke, "What good does it bring to torture yourself like this?"
Rio furrowed his brow at the melodious female voice, turning his head in its direction. His eyes found a woman with undeniable elegance, cradling a glass of velvety red wine. Her posture exuded a magnetic pull, inviting those around her to be captivated by the allure of a woman who seamlessly blended elegance with a hint of intrigue.
Most captivating of all were her vibrant red lips. The vivid hue seemed to defy the ambient lighting, asserting its presence with an almost audacious confidence.
"Are you talking to me?" Rio ran his fingers through his hair as he posed the question. As much as he hated to admit, Rio still cared about his appearance, especially when conversing with someone attractive. The scar, a reminder of the Pastolium part he tore from his face, created raised and weathered lines starting from his hairline to his right eyebrow. Subconsciously, he ensured his hair covered the scar.
The woman chuckled, "I don't have anyone else with me here."
An indirect way to answer his question.
Rio set down his glass of whiskey with a loud clank, his frustration evident. "I don't like Synthetiks," he declared, taking a deep breath to suppress his disgust towards the artificial beings. "In fact, I don't appreciate anybody suggesting what I like or what I don't. It's just me." Rio quickly realized he shouldn't voice his displeasure so openly in a public place like the bar.
He hadn't escaped from AHC (AI Harmonics Central) to risk being captured again by the government just because he expressed his discontent so openly.
Rio's eyes now followed her scarlet dress as it clung to her curves, mirroring the color of her lips.
His reply was met with a long peal of silence. The woman then gestured for a waitress and muttered something. Rio attempted to divert his attention back to the live band performing on stage, but the scarlet fabric effortlessly invited his gaze at the periphery of his vision.
After a moment, the same waitress the woman had spoken to returned with a drink.
Before Rio had time to turn to the drink, the woman had grabbed it and strolled to his table. It softly clunked onto his table before he could even find out what happened.
A glass of Coke. Its faint aroma lingered in the air.
Rio cast a sideways glance at the woman. "What's this?"
"Coke," the woman sat next to him.
"I know. I mean why." The Coke sat untouched on the table. The corner of his eye caught her sipping the red wine, the glass momentarily stained with the same scarlet hue.
"I guess sometimes we can appreciate and embrace some of the conveniences AIs have brought to our lives," the woman set down her glass of wine and slid the Coke nearer to Rio.
With a scoff, Rio shook his head, "you have no idea what I have gone through today."
The woman's slender forefinger traced the rim of her wine glass, "I may know more than what you think I know of you." Her eyes seemed distant as she spoke.
Something in her voice irked him, prompting him to sweep away the hair that covered his scar, revealing the rugged-pattern scar. "Are you sure about that?"
The woman's eyes had never left the stage, despite noticing the change in tone in Rio's voice.
Almost instantly, Rio regretted his act. Taking a deep breath and inwardly blaming his rudeness on the loss of his friend, he grabbed the glass of Coke and took a big gulp.
"Lost your friend?" The calmness in her voice resembled asking if he would like a cup of tea.
The air seemed to hold a charged stillness after the question. It now occurred to him that it wasn't by chance the woman sat next to him; she indeed knew something about him.
Rio narrowed his eyes, attempting to maintain composure despite being caught off guard.
You can't be too careful in a place like this, he reminded himself. He barely knew the woman.
"I don't have any friends,"
The woman took another sip of her red wine and let out a soft chuckle, "RIO, there is no need to be uptight. Even though I'm not your friend yet, I am certainly not your enemy."
The way she emphasized the word 'RIO' stirred an uneasy feeling in his chest. It felt as if she knew that was not his real name.
Cocking his head in her direction, Rio wanted to stop all these cryptic conversations, "what do you want from me? What can you possibly gain from me? I am damaged. Far beyond repair."
The woman still had her eyes locked on the stage, but her smile had faded into a serious expression, "Damaged?" she nodded, more of acknowledgment than agreement, "you have done something nobody else managed to achieve in the past. Is this all you want after going through all the sufferings?"
A chill ran like an electric current through the length of his spine. The longer he delved into the conversation, the more he was convinced that this woman knew about his past. The only question remained: to what extent?
"Who are you?"
"My name is Oceane," for the first time since the woman sat next to him gave him a quick glance as she said her name.
"Oceane," Rio repeated with caution in his eyes, "where are you from? Or who you represent? I doubt you know the full story of my life, or I would not be sitting here. Handing me to the SynthWatch patrolling on the street outside would earn you some rewards." Rio jutted his chin in the direction of the door.
SynthWatch was the Synthetik Police that patrolled around the neighborhood. They were the low-tech Synthetiks who had downloaded a limited amount of data and possessed the fundamental functions to scan for suspicious activities in Slateville.
"Quite the contrary," shrugged Oceane, "I have no interest in money. In fact, I have too much of them. What I am interested in is the truth. Aren't you curious about what you witnessed two years ago?"
The hairs on the back of his neck stood at this question.
She couldn't possibly know what he saw two years ago that led him to his escape from the government. He had never told anybody, not even Isa, who knew his real identity.
Who is she? Rio widened his eyes in disbelief.