[i]ABOUT FIVE HOURS AGO.[/i]

https://open.spotify.com/track/6F7ZTPn4t0C9zGgZt2mAHj?si=8f43bdac7edb415c

The rain spits off the rooftops, drizzling my jacket in a rainbow of fluorescence. I think its from the oil in the water. I'm in the Lower Districts. The water's up to my thighs, not that it matters. I have so many implants in my legs, its not a problem. But for a mid-tier user? Someone with a cheap bodysuit? They wouldn't be able to make this route. For me, its like a gentle walk through a slow stream.

My hands go into my pockets. I look at the burned-out houses. Wildfires must've torn through them from the chocked pylons and ripped right through the whole district. Overhead, hanging wires spit electricity like cornered snakes. Combined with the rain, it makes it hard to see. White lightning hits the water up ahead, and the run-off sizzles. I don't stop. I don't care about a little electricity. Not some wattage provided by any of these burnt-out bricks, anyway.

I should probably explain. In every district there's a number of pylons. These pylons are like trees. Data trees. The collective memory of the phase; or the sub-server; is hosted locally by these pylons, and those pylons feed into The Cloud, which is the grand data-bank of New England. So in other words: you, everything you are, everything you do, your #KARMA, is recorded by these pylons. If the one in your District blows up, you better fucking hope you have a back-up, because otherwise everything you represent gets burned away.

... And you thought you had it bad.

So looking at all these burned out houses, this lifeless district, this drowned-out phase: you can certainly imagine, there's more than a few ghosts here.

I don't want to think how many poor fucks are floating beneath the water. No one's coming to save them. No one will probably even come to dispose of their bodies. This place will become another D35D S3RV3R in a matter of hours, where it will peel off, float away, and become a part of the problem.

The eternal problem: what happens to people who die in cyberspace? Just another set of corrupted sub-routines. Stopping-starting. Adding to the ping, creating proxies, misting the air with trauma and ghosts and an uncomfortable amount of lag. I can feel it growing every step, making the flood water feel like tar. I don't have much time. I will my legs to pick up the pace and try to bite back the annoyance I feel when it takes them a good few seconds to respond.

I pull up the collar of my leather jacket and keep my chin down as I head on up the street. It takes me about five minutes and at least a couple cigarettes to find the place I'm looking for. A factory warehouse on the edge of the phase. It stands in a vacant lot. A few telephone poles keep it company. There's no sun, no moon, and barely a night sky for that matter. The Cloud has already been disconnected. I'm alone here, except for the gentle tinkling of water from the breech-holes in the mainframe and the electrictiy shooting across the district from the few live wires that remain. I take my hand out from my pocket and access the Trespasser.

The tool in my hand lights up green, reading: "User #504. Performing distant set of sub-routines. Contact Vex in: MORTAL COIL #081?" I press a button and wait, looking out at the terrace which leads to a garage door and then into the factory. A door big enough to chug a couple rigs through, maybe even two at a time. I thought it looked like a nice place to have bad habits.

"Vex, I'm at the place."

"District 7?"

"It's fucking washed out. Place is a ruin. If there's anyone alive here, they're probably glitching out on the red."

"Fuck..."

He does some typing as I contemplate having another cigarette. I blink my eyes at the warehouse a few times, wondering if it'll blink back and maybe calm my nerves. It doesn't bite. 

"Says here there's no life-signs. Place must've burned out hours ago."

"Any idea how it started?"

"A pylon back where you came. Data-log says it had a nominal power spike, probably due to lack of maintenance. Acid rust, maybe. Seems like it blew out and took the whole district with it. Fire ripped right through the core, blew up the local servers. Anyone who was awake for it probably had a pretty bad shock."

"What was the rain like at the time?"

"Bad. Six and a half feet of solid flooding. It's gone down some, probably because the server's breached. But Leon, no one's alive there. You're in an empty shard. It's only you."

I feel a chill go down my back, right the way to my stomach. I don't like it. I don't like it at all. Over a thousand people, dead. And there wasn't even a news report. I breathe hard into the Trespasser, holding it up by my ear like a cell.

I could just about hear Vex trying to talk me out of it. 

"Leon. You there? Stay with it, man. You going inside...?"

"Well if I don't this patch becomes a fucking memory and we'll never find out what happened, right?"

"... Right."

"So yeah. I'm going in. I'll contact you in half an hour. If I don't make out, send someone."

"Got it. Leon? Be careful."