“We’re a damaged people. Our forerunners guard the Holds and the wilderness we have left behind for the safety our gardens, their minds torn and broken. Our Proxies, encased in the metallic corpses of our enemies fight a war that has gone on for three quarters of a century. Do you think we will ever win? Do you think it will ever end?” - suicide note, scratched on a apartment wall in Rio Arcology.

“There are seven Holds and sixteen Sovereigns. For Mankind to win this nameless war,” Andreas said as he got back, having toasted half the bar,”they need to die and be destroyed.”

“That we know of,” Abrukha repeated.

“Hence the rhyme,” Sara echoed.

“But back to the question. The reason why they have scheduled Luleå to be reclaimed is because they don’t want another Hold to form.”

“We don’t know that the Lima Hold was created by negligence, Nina.”

“No, but we know that a dead arcology is fertile ground for whatever process that creates Holds. That they then waited for five years, well, what do you call that?”

“A mistake?”

Nina snorted.”Andreas, when you show up late to the runners’ ball with a damn tuxedo, that’s a mistake. I checked the records from the nearest arcology. There were dozens of reports of Host activity in the ruins. They were discounted.”

“Because Soron lead thousands of Regials through the Gulf.”

“Because they didn’t even send a couple of junior forerunners to at least get a firsthand report. And so now,” she turned towards Martin,”dead arcologies are watched.”

Martin motioned for a sixth shot to be served. Might as well spend the credits.

“So they’re afraid that Luleå will be another Lima?”

“High Command is never afraid. They’re merely ‘concerned’ about the possibility of another ‘rapid formations site of antithetical anomalies’.”

Martin stared at Andreas.”What Nina means is that they’re talking about the creation of a Hold.”

“That’s what I said!”

There was that word again. Chiyo Moyomoto had said it, when she mentioned the health-scan. Forerunner. She had corrected him, hadn’t she?

“What’s the difference between a forerunner and a Deputy?”

Three sets of eyes zoomed in him.”Forerunner is what we call ourselves. Deputy,” Sara’s voice was harsh,”suggests that we’re seconds to Proxies.”

Martin didn’t comment that.

“It began with Adit Havrasalam. He coined the term, ‘forerunner’. Because we’re the first boots on the ground, yes? The military referred to them as ‘deputies’, because they were deputised to prosecute the roving armies that went through the Eastern United States. Havrasalam wasn’t around to argue after the Battle of the West…” Nina trailed off.

“I know my history lessons.”

“Did you know that in the old movies, what we had before casts- the alien armies would always go for New York- and I guess they were right.”

Martin shrugged. The Americans had been the biggest kid on the block til someone melted down their block and irradiated it.

“I have seen some of the pirated casts. Eastern North America would still be a polity, if they hadn’t decided to fight the Host without a Hesser-Achenya Field.”

Nina eyes shone with light. There was a width the span of torso separating them and Martin could smell the fumes of whatever it was that she was drinking. Potent.”You say that because your generation hasn’t known a time when we didn't have the Field,” she said so quietly that he had to strain to hear.”You cannot begin to imagine the war without Chassis.”

She stared down the table, ignoring the way Sara tugged at her sleeve and Andreas’ cutting motion as the bartender gave their table a worried glance.

“A Sovereign, followed by an army that covers the horizon. You see the helicopter tumble through the sky like the birds the hunters would bring down during lean winters. The Regials splinter the army into divisions and surges towards you like a many-headed hydra.”

The way she accented the words had changed; less Trade, and more something that Martin suspected was Russian.

“You raise the rifle they’ve given you. Stock against shoulder.” Martin’s ears popped. The air felt strange. Sounds did reach him, but as if far, far away. All Deputies had a speciality. Andreas had teleportation, but what was Nina’s?

“You shoot. Bull’s eye.”

Martin breathed out a small cloud. The temperature, and the sound. What exactly was she doing?

“Nothing happens. All along the the fields they shoot. But nothing happens.” Unease took hold of Martin. There was a repetitive quality, a certain cadence to Nina’s voice. He had seen old soldiers, old Access 2:ers that squatted in Sala speak like that. They couldn’t or wouldn’t live in the arcologies.

“But the worst part…”

The air hurt Martin’s nose. He swallowed air that burned. How..was…had the bar always been this empty?

“…the missiles streak across the sky…”

The Chassis came into being around him and Martin could finally think. He could see. The air was rippling like whirlpools around Andreas and Sara’s nimbus of light made her look like a fae out of a traditional Swedish folkstory.

“…but they don’t harm the Host. The ground, it cascades, and there is dirt everywhere but on they walk, and they walk and they do so walk…”

Martin swallowed. What…what should he do? What should they do?

“They walked until Sage arrived. And then they stopped, because Hina of the Hill doesn’t have an ounce of quit in her. She covered your retreat.”

The speaker entered their slice of winter without a care. The figure - androgynous without hair - sat down next to Nina.

They placed a manicured hand around the drunk forerunner, whispering something that even Martin’s Chassis couldn’t pick up.

The…person looked more real than reality itself. A face so perfectly bland that it would never stand out. A body with light muscles, seen through a grey skinsuit, muscled enough to suggest regular workouts but not so much as to be threatening. A Trade that was clear and precise, textbook even. Really, you couldn’t create…

Martin stared. The figure fluctuated for a split second, wavering like the light from a real candle. A blue tint, almost aura-like covered it from head to toe.

“Don’t tell her.”

Martin’s head swivelled to the left.

“She’s…distraught for now.” His head turned right.

The figure led Nina away, with a Sara who had only eyes for who Martin suspected were her lover and Andreas had teleported away. When?

“Andreas Sandsjö is busy alerting the personnel that they’re clear to enter.”

Where was the voice coming from?!

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

It stood before him. A being without gender, hairless and with thick lips. A coastline along dark water, trees creating a crescent along the shore. A great eagle. It was all these things and more.

“HELLO, MARTIN SOLIERI.”

Martin took a step back. He instinctively knew. The Vänern Arcology. Not a minor intelligence, a subroutine with hubris. This was an Administrator. There were people who went their entire lives without even once coming in contact with one, but it was just his day, wasn’t it?

“Nina…”

“NINA ABRUKHA’S EPISODES ARE KNOW TO ME.” The genderless figure snapped their fingers and the cold was gone like yesterday’s promises.”YOU SHOULD GET SOME REST, MR SOLIERI. YOUR PERSONAL PROGNOSIS FOR TOMORROW SUGGESTS…A MEETING THAT WILL REQUIRE GREAT PATIENCE.”

Martin’s mouth remained open. Nobody could foretell the future, not even a Proxy. But an Arcology Administrator, who oversaw an entire arcology, he supposed, could read the equalivent of digital entrails and make a guess.

“Are you…?”

“THE NUMBERS DO NOT LIE MR SOLIERI. I DO NOT LIE. TOMORROW, 8.00.”

Martin looked at the hologram-clock centered above the bar.”Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“NOT TO WORRY. I WILL HAVE YOU HOME IN A LESS THAN A HEARTBEAT.”

Something registered against the back of his legs…and he was back in his apartment, sitting on his bed. This wasn’t like when Chiyo had dumped him in his apartment, and or when Sviratham had teleported them away to the Verdant habitat for their Examination of Worth.

This had been seamless. A step off the pavement.

“TRY TO SLEEP. YOU HAVE A BIG DAY TOMORROW.”

Martin simply lay on his bed, Chassis on, thinking of everything that had happened. Guo Hong and Isla. The preacher of the Made. The drinks with Sara, Andreas and Nina. The Vänern Arcology Administrator.

Sleep made its claim on him, and he closed his eyes. Later, as he woke up, he’d have a remnant of a memory, a phantom-sensation of his father stroking his chin.

It was a small detail he wouldn’t consider for a long, long while.