“Are you going to give him bootleg augs?” Fuchsia asked in worry. I suddenly started feeling a bit more anxious, and perhaps excited.

A beep sounded from behind Mrs. Dana, and she turned around to check something on her computer. “Good,” she said, ignoring Fuchsia’s very important question, “it seems that the API versions in both firmware dumps are partially compatible. You’re in luck. You can save on scouring pawn shops for a compatible phone.”

I was still frozen, trying to process Fuchsia’s previous question and its ramifications when Mrs. Dana turned back to face me.

“And no, I’m not giving you ‘bootleg augs,’” she stated, and I simmered down a bit, “but as for the solution I mentioned,” she cleared her throat, “it’s possible thanks to the hardware provided by Arthur, that old coot.” she patted the headband I just gave her.

Oh, so he’s the old coot? I resisted the urge to call her out on that one.

“What does the headband do?” I asked.

“This ‘headband,’ as you call it, is a DreamStream 203i. A piece of interesting tech that went out of style pretty quick,” she explained. “It’s an external Brain-Computer Interface, an old prototype,” she pointed at Fuchsia, “a bit similar to the augs in her head in that it can act as a two-way real-time communication bridge to your brain, albeit much less functional than a modern aug. Since it can’t do any actual processing by itself, and the bandwidth is limited.”

“…and that’s where my phone comes in?” I said, quickly catching on.

“And that’s where your phone comes in.” she seemed pleased with herself, “I can hook them up to give you something like false augs,” she went on and explained her proposed solution.

Her solution came down to replacing my phone’s firmware with a modified version of the one used by modern augs. That way I could have it interface with my brain through the DreamStream, thus giving me the ability to bind my social security number to my brainwaves, which acted as the modern equivalent to fingerprints, permanently and irrevocably.

“One last thing, it would require custom programming, and I don’t do that shit for free.” Mrs. Dana finished. I liked the idea until she ruined it for me.

“How much would it cost?” I asked in trepidation.

“I charge by the hour, and this would take about four hours to get done,'' she said, “That’ll come down to about sixteen-hundred universal credits,” she finished.

The look on my face at that moment said it all.

“Can I pay you in installments?” I blurted out, knowing full well that my wallet was running on fumes. Unfortunately, my daily income from my part-time server job at the diner only amounted to twenty-two credits per hour plus tips. My rainy-day fund amounted to a total of three-hundred credits and change in a digital wallet I couldn’t even touch at the moment without signing-in to access my account.

TL;DR: I was destitute.

“Sure, you can pay me eight-hundred now, and the other eight-hundred after,” she said humorlessly.

“How about…” I started my counteroffer, but she interrupted me mid-sentence.

“No bargaining,” she shut me down instantly.

As nice as the idea seemed, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford it.

“Then I can’t afford it,” I said, “can we get back to your earlier offer? About that secure network access, you offered?”

Ordering the new documentation would cost me a pretty penny, but it was much more affordable than her idea.

“Two-hundred credits,” she crossed her arms. It seemed she was intent for paying me back ten-fold for my earlier snide remarks. I regret everything.

Fuchsia, who had been standing to the side with a contemplative look all this time, decided to speak.

“If you do the custom work,” she hypothesized, “would he be able to play IR games?” she asked, referring to Immersive Reality games I’d always fantasized about joining, but couldn’t without any augs.

“With difficulty,” Mrs. Dana replied.

“Define ‘difficulty,’” Fuchsia countered.

“He would be able to access them, but his reaction times would be nowhere near other players,” Mrs. Dana elaborated, “he might also have some trouble getting used to the interface, and he’d have to download the game files locally to his phone before playing,” she continued, “without extra storage, his phone won’t be able to handle that, though,” she stated, “I do have the parts, but that will cost extra.”

“How much in total?” Fuchsia inquired.

“Twenty-nine hundred, in total, factoring in preloading the card with a game of your choice.”

I had an idea of where this was going, but when I tried to object, Fuchsia shut me down with an icy-death stare. This was a negotiation game between two women and I had no place in it now.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hundred upfront. For the custom work and the preloaded memory card.”

Mrs. Dana contemplated for a moment before speaking, “the card will be a slightly used eight-petabyte one that’ll fit two small games or one big game at best, and I won’t charge for the file-system formatting, only bandwidth for the download.”

Offers and counter-offers were shot back and forth between them until they settled on twenty-six hundred credits.

As Fuchsia moved to pay, I started to object again, but she punched me playfully before touching Mrs. Dana’s robotic claw. I internally cringed, but Fuchsia didn’t seem to mind.

And just like that, their augs interfaced and their deal was concluded.

“How long will the process take?” Fuchsia asked.

“Four hours, plus however long the download will take. I’ll start the download now, you sure about your game choice?” They must’ve exchanged words via the implants because I had no idea what the game of choice was.

Fuchsia nodded, then responded, “we’ll be back in four”, then turned to face me, “can we have our date now?” she asked calmly.

“What? Seriously?” I looked at her in surprise. Why did she still want to go after finding out how I tricked her?

I mean, no matter how you looked at it, I was the asshole here. I hadn’t expected this.

She bobbed me on the head. “A deal is a deal,” she said with a sly smile, “besides, it seems we’re not being chased by anyone like you thought,” she looked to Mrs. Dana, who nodded absentmindedly as she went about typing stuff into some code editor, “we also need to discuss the terms of your employment, but that can wait,” before I could do anything except display a shocked expression, she grabbed me by the arm and commanded, “now let’s get out of here, I need some fresh air,” she whispered the last part.

“What about my phone, and the DreamStream?” I asked, knowing that if we came back here and she lost connection again, it would seem suspicious and attract unwanted attention to this place.

“You can come in to pick it up while I wait outside, later.”

Her connection to the live stream had been resumed as soon as we left the neighborhood, she did the “welcome back, sorry for the technical difficulties spiel,” and we left.

It was slightly after dawn when we returned from our ‘date.’ She waited for me in front of the library while I went in to look for the phone I’d ‘forgotten’ in the lost and found, as we had agreed before leaving the blackout area.

As for our date, all I can say it was typical awkward-clueless-teenager-on-their-first-date stuff for me, although I felt she was a natural as she steered the conversation. I mostly took a passive stance and didn’t speak unless I was spoken to, but she straightened me out real quick by smacking me whenever I did that.

I wanted to bolt out of the place as soon as I laid eyes on the menu and the quoted prices, but she somehow calmed me down with a single, reassuring look.

I was a little self-conscious because I didn’t get to pay anything since she was the one to order for us. She simply swiped a panel embedded under the glass of the table, and our orders soon arrived.

She ordered a soda and a double cheeseburger for the both of us, and I enjoyed the food because I was getting a bit hungry, too.

Honestly, it was strange to do something so ‘normal’ for other people. I was kind of nervous, and ashamed about my clothing, which was your typical run-of-the-mill t-shirt and old generic denim pants that I kept in shape with my seasoned sewing skills.

I can’t help but think that I would have had a great time if I weren’t so much of a scaredy-cat.

After we returned, I went inside the library and retrieved the phone and the newly upgraded DreamStream from Mrs. Dana, the Cyborg Swindler. We didn’t speak much, I took the stuff and she told me how to use the new software, warning me of some pitfalls and the limitations she couldn’t work-around. I half-listened, as my mind was still a jumble, wondering what my new “employer” would want of me, and of ways to pay her back.

I went outside and exchanged IDs with Fuchsia, she told me she’d call me later—alluding to our previous agreement of her contacting me during her ‘offline times,’ which worried me slightly—and we parted ways.

I went back to my trailer to prepare for work, I didn’t have the time to put on and test the DreamStream, and I wouldn’t for the rest of the day; but in my mind, I couldn’t help but ponder one great persistent question…

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?