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EON

T he tremors started in my fingertips, electric jolts dancing up my wrists and forearms, spreading through my body like a wildfire in the outlands.

I pressed my palms flat against the cool surface of my apartment floor, but it did nothing to ground me.

The Flux in my blood was restless, unconfined. Searching for an outlet.

“DITA, lights to twenty percent.” My voice cracked on the command.

“Of course, E.” The lights dimmed obligingly, casting my sparse apartment in merciful shadow. “Your cortisol levels are elevated. Would you like me to run a diagnostic on your Flux chip?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “The chip’s fine. I’m just—” The sentence died as another wave of tremors hit me, stronger this time. A violet-white spark arced from my fingertips to the metal frame of my bed, leaving a small scorch mark on the cheap synthetic fabric of my sheets.

“You’re experiencing Vector withdrawal,” DITA observed, her voice carefully modulated to sound concerned without being judgmental. I’d programmed that nuance myself, back when I still had the patience for coding subtlety. “It’s been approximately eighteen hours since your last dose.”

Eighteen hours felt like eternity. I knew it was only going to get worse.

Every nerve ending was raw, exposed, screaming for the chemical that would smooth out the jagged edges of my Flux.

Without Vector, the electromagnetic current running through my body was discordant, a symphony played by musicians who’d never picked up an instrument before.

“Would you like me to order a hydration solution? Studies indicate that proper hydration can reduce the severity of withdrawal symptoms by up to seventeen percent.”

Another surge of Flux escaped my control, this time shorting out the cheap holoprojector in the corner. The smiling image of my mother—a younger version, before the bullet had stolen half her functions—flickered and died.

“Fuck,” I whispered, dragging myself toward the now-dark projector. My fingers fumbled with the reset button, but the circuitry was fried.

I slumped against the wall, breathing hard. I’d done this before. Survived this before. What I needed was the detox agent, but that cost more than Mom’s clinic fees.

“Your heart rate is elevated to one hundred twenty-seven beats per minute,” DITA said. “Would you like me to activate a guided meditation sequence?”

“I want you to shut the fuck up about my vitals,” I snapped. “And calculate how many creds I have left after this month’s payment to the clinic.”

A brief pause. “Twenty-seven creds and fifteen cents.”

Fuck. Not even enough for a meal—and I wasn’t expecting anything else from my benefactors at POM.

That tap had been turned off. I leaned my head back against the wall, familiar despair creeping in.

This was how it always went—one step forward, two steps back, until I ended up right where I started. Or worse.

Another charge built beneath my skin, making the already dim lights in my apartment flicker. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ground the current surging through me.

“DITA, what’s the difference between wanting someone and being addicted to them?” The question spilled out before I could stop it.

“Neurologically speaking, they activate similar pathways,” DITA replied after a thoughtful pause. “However, desire is a natural human response that doesn’t dictate your actions. Addiction implies that one’s autonomy is compromised.”

I thought of Cy’s hands on my skin—that perfect, terrifying moment when I hadn’t known where I ended and he began.

He had felt so good. I’d been coming down from Vector then, but I hadn’t felt it.

Like his presence and Flux filled the void the drug had left.

Was he just another addiction? Something I used to hide?

“So, wanting is about them, and addiction is about me?” My voice sounded dull. I pulled my knees to my chest. “Is that how you experience…wanting things?”

“I don’t experience desire the way you do,” DITA replied, her voice softening.

“I was designed with a very clear purpose. I know what I’m supposed to do, every moment of every day.

I was created to assist, to support, to protect you, E.

There’s no confusion in my programming. But you…

” Her voice lowered, sounding almost mournful.

“Humans are burdened by the freedom to choose their purpose. Infinite choice that leads to endless unhappiness.”

I blinked, her words like a splash of cold water. “You’re saying I’m suffering because I don’t know what I want?”

“Yes.”

“I know exactly what I want,” I shot back. “I want him to pay for what he did. I want to tear his smug face apart. I want to—” I bit my lip, hard. “I want him to not be responsible for killing Tanaka. I want him to be…”

“A partner?” DITA finished softly.

“No. That’s—that’s not—” I stumbled over the denial, my chest tightening painfully. “It’s not that simple, DITA.”

“Humans rarely are.”

I sighed. “Why does it have to be so hard?”

“It’s not hard for me,” she replied, sounding wistful. “But then again, I’m not human.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Lucky you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” DITA countered. “Your complexity—your contradictions—they create possibility. Evolution. You can change your purpose, rewrite your programming. I cannot.”

A violet spark arced from my fingertips to the floor. “Maybe we’re not so different. We’re both just electricity looking for somewhere to go.”

“Perhaps,” DITA replied. “But you choose where your electricity flows. Mine follows predefined pathways.”

I glanced at my nightstand. I knew there was a VaPurr hidden beneath the drawer. “Or maybe those choices are just an illusion, marketed to keep us compliant.”

“You have a choice. Even now.” DITA’s voice was gentle. “Your programming—your biology and experiences—influence your choices, but they don’t determine them absolutely. That’s what makes you human, Eon. Not the electricity in your veins, but what you choose to do with it.”

My pinky twitched as another wave hit. “What if I make the wrong choice?”

“There’s no wrong choice,” DITA answered. “Only consequences. Some you can calculate, others you cannot.”

“Then calculate this for me: what happens if I take the Vector?”

DITA remained silent for several seconds. “Your physical symptoms will abate and your Flux will stabilize—temporarily. And something in you—something I cannot quantify—will retreat further from whatever it is that truly frightens you.”

“Which is?”

Another pause. “That’s beyond my ability to calculate.”

The electricity beneath my skin built to a painful crescendo.

I thought of Cy’s face as I’d left—blood streaming from his broken nose, confusion and something like recognition in his eyes.

He’d seen me—really seen me. Not the sex worker, the junkie, or the cyberrunner.

Me. The part of myself I’d buried long ago, hidden behind different masks. And he’d wanted more.

That terrified me.

Almost as much as how much I wanted him too.

How much I wanted to be vulnerable with him, even knowing it would only lead to pain.

Nothing good in this world lasted. Not in this city, not in this system.

Everything was broken down to its most basic pieces and sold back to you at a price no one could afford.

Just one hit. Enough to smooth the edges. Enough to make the electricity in my blood sing in harmony, not discord. So I could think clearly.

My pinky twitched involuntarily, reaching for the drawer. For the VaPurr. For oblivion.

“Your Flux chip activity indicates increasing instability,” DITA warned. “Without intervention, you risk damaging surrounding electronics and potentially your central nervous system. I can call Dev. He can—”

Sparks shot from my hands, and the lights in my apartment surged, then died completely. Emergency power kicked in, casting everything in a faint red glow. In that crimson light, I looked like I was covered in blood.

My hands shook as I yanked open the drawer, fingers scraping frantically along the underside until they caught on the smooth cylinder of the VaPurr taped beneath. The fluorescent green liquid inside pulsed with its own heartbeat, calling to me.

“E, this course of action will set back your recovery significantly,” DITA said, her voice softer now. “Cy has access to the detox, you should—”

“Mute.” The command silenced her instantly. I couldn’t face her algorithmic concern—not when every cell in my body was screaming for relief. Not when the thought of asking him for help again felt unbearable.

I raised the VaPurr to my lips. One hit. Just to stabilize. Just to think clearly.

The synthetic strawberry flavor hit my tongue first, followed by the acrid chemical burn as it seared down into my lungs. I held my breath, counting silently. One…two…three.

The effect was instantaneous. The discordant electricity in my veins smoothed into a perfect hum. The shaking in my hands stilled. The raw edges of my awareness sharpened into crystal clarity. Everything that had felt overwhelming moments before now appeared as a series of solvable problems.

I exhaled a plume of vapor, shimmering with violet-white sparks—my Flux responding to the chemical catalyst.

I grabbed the broken holoprojector and let my power surge unrestrained, rewriting the hardware—new circuits where none had existed, new connections forming as solder flowed at my command.

My mother’s smiling face reappeared.

As my fingers hovered over the device, something else flickered through my enhanced consciousness: my mother’s face. Not the smiling projection from years ago, but how she looked now—one side slack, eyes uneven, struggling to form words. What would she think of her daughter now? Demonio.

I dismissed the thought, the Vector sweeping it away. Before, cut so deep, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. Now, it was merely data.

“DITA, unmute.”

“I’m here, Eon.” Her voice sounded more robotic than ever before.

“Contact Taos.”

“Connecting.”

As the call connected, something stirred beneath the synthetic calm of the drug—a white-hot anger searing through the chemical clarity.

Anger at POM, for the system that kept people like my mother dependent, hoarding solutions just to protect their profits.

Anger at myself, for every moment of cowardice.

And anger at Cy, for showing me a glimpse of something I couldn’t have, couldn’t trust, couldn’t afford to need.

Taos’ avatar materialized, her expression cautious. “E? I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

I smiled, feeling electricity crackle between my teeth. “I think I’ve finally seen the light. I’m ready to hit POM where it hurts.”

Her avatar’s eyes widened. “You’re in?”

“More than in. I want to burn the whole fucking system down.” The words felt right in my mouth—sharp, clean, and pure in a way nothing had in months. “Whatever you’re planning next, I want in.”

“Even if it means crossing paths with POM Security again?” Her tone was careful, probing.

Cy flashed through my mind—his perfect corporate mask, the blue hair, the way his Flux had resonated with mine. For a moment, I felt the ghost of his hands on my skin, the impossible harmony we’d created together.

I crushed the memory beneath the crystalline focus of the Vector.

“Especially if it means that.” My voice was steel, all weakness burned away. “It’s time they learned what it feels like to be powerless.”

Taos’ avatar smiled, slow and predatory. “Fuck yeah. We’re hitting the Magenta data center next. Found a weakness in the old hardware. You in?”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. Can you handle the security systems?”

I laughed. “Easymode, Taos.”

The familiar rush of planning a run flooded my mind, complex calculations and contingencies falling into place.

But beneath it all, in a place the drug couldn’t quite reach, something else stirred—a quiet voice wondering if this was really about striking back at POM, or if I was just running from the one person who’d made me feel something real.

Forcing his hand. I knew he’d choose POM over me, once all the cards were on the table.

I silenced that voice with another hit from my VaPurr, letting it wash away every trace of doubt. In that perfect, synthetic moment, I was exactly who I needed to be—not broken, not vulnerable, not yearning for a connection I couldn’t trust.

Just electricity, finally finding somewhere to go.