The Fall of Icarus (Cyberpunk)

The following morning was particularly dismal. A light rain fell outside, and besides that, I hadn't managed to earn much. In such weather, people generally aren't eager to go out, but that wasn't the case for me. By noon, I was already standing near Susan's shop, where she, with her usual bored expression, was engrossed in something on her tablet.

"Ahem, here I am," I announced, drawing the attention of my future instructor.

"Yeah, come in," the girl gestured, waving her hand behind her.

"Alright, take care, Amigo. I think I can leave you here," Marco patted my shoulder and quickly took off. He never did like staying around this lady for too long.

"He ran off... Thinks I'm still mad at him. Anyway, are you ready?" Sue winked at me and, stretching her entire body, turned towards me, resting her head on her bent elbow.

"Absolutely, at your command," I mimicked a slight bow and, unable to help myself, yawned. The weather had taken more out of me than I had initially anticipated.

"Well then, start with this," Mitchell handed me something that looked like futuristic goggles, the purpose of which I could only guess.

"And what's this?" I took the mentioned object in my hands, examining it from all angles.

"Augmented reality glasses. A precursor to Brain-Dance helmets. You're all flesh and blood now, so you can't learn by data upload from chips. This method is better than rote memorization, but it's about thirty years outdated, from back when Rache Bartmoss crashed the whole network. Anyway, put on the glasses and do nothing else."

Shrugging, I put on the futuristic-looking device and obediently waited for further instructions from the girl. Susan wasn't in a hurry, typing something on her tablet. Then she pulled out a bunch of wires from under the table's drawers, which she then connected to a large array of equipment. When the preparation process was finished, Sue touched her temples, and my glasses magically came to life.

"Seems like it's working," I heard the girl's voice in my head, slightly different from her real one. Probably the effect of the antiquated technology, not designed for more advanced communication systems. "I've established a communication channel between us, but since the device is old, you'll have to talk to me out loud."

"Understood, what's next?"

"I'm sending you a training program for first-rank technicians and netrunners. It's a standard school curriculum designed for children with specialized education. I studied it once," Sue said nostalgically. "Done, study the information step by step and take your time. Use your hands as controllers. The glasses are directly connected to your brain, but the brain synapse recognition speed is still pretty slow. I've made some modifications to the device, so I think the lag won't be too noticeable."

"Got it, acknowledged."

"Have fun. You've got three hours of theory and then practice. After all, one can't exist without the other."

The amount of information was indeed vast, but thankfully it was compactly presented, not triggering any subconscious fear of a massive text overload. Textual data alternated with video and audio inserts, adding some specificity. No wonder, after all, a child's imagination isn't as rich as an adult's.

I decided to start with the "Technician" course. The subject was quite interesting, and some of it was already familiar. More precisely, to the former Alex, and now to me. I didn't try to show off or act like a genius who would start directly with 5th or 6th-grade material. After all, it was almost 2060, and the world was technologically far more advanced than ours. The only thing I wouldn't need was the ability to count and write, but I'd have to work hard on everything else.

Opening the program for the first grades, I briefly lost touch with reality. "This is what kids learn at admission!?" I thought in shock, looking at tons of terms and their explanations. At six years old, I barely remembered letters, let alone sixth-grade physics and this was exactly that. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but still, I felt like a complete idiot.

First, I started watching the instructional videos, to visually see what awaited me next. To my utter surprise, everything was wonderfully explained. The presentation was interesting and lively, with a thorough breakdown of the material and stuffing the whole array of data directly into your head. The three hours flew by so fast that I didn't even realize when Susan disconnected me from the glasses, smirking at me.

"Did you like it?" the girl asked cunningly, tilting her head.

"Do you even need to ask!" I nodded happily, still affected by what I had seen.

"Alright kid, you'll have more fun later. For now, here, take this," she said as several microchips fell in front of me. "This is something like an electronic construction kit for beginners. Your task is to carefully solder each little part." The brunette showed each step and then watched my efforts.

Needless to say, I managed to complete the task too quickly. Sue thought it would take much longer. I finished in 15 minutes and reported the completion to my surprised instructor.

"Not bad, guy. Honestly, I thought it would take you much longer," the brunette ran her hand through her hair, deep in thought. "Well, there's nothing else to keep you busy, so just watch how I work."

Shrugging, I moved closer to the girl, observing as she disassembled some kind of tablet. I tried not to get in her way, watching the confident and precise movements of her robotic limbs. Thanks to them, every action Mitchell made was exact. The human factor was minimized due to the implants, but there was still the possibility of mechanism failure or other similar issues.

Overall, I was satisfied. My mentor didn't skimp on explanations while simultaneously doing her work. Of course, some tasks she left for home. For instance, if she was brought something bulky or complex to repair, she would take it home where, with a full set of necessary tools, she conducted the servicing. Susan herself told me this, and I hadn't even had the chance to ask her about it.

She had quite a few clients. Mostly, they were people from nearby shops who traded in the items she repaired, selling them to other people. A rather fascinating symbiosis, in my opinion. We brought her some parts, and in turn, she used them to fix things brought by junk dealers, which then ended up on the shop shelves.

"Hey, are you done there?" A familiar girl's voice called out to me.

"Inga?" I looked at the girl in surprise, not expecting to see her here.

"Marco asked me to come get you. He was afraid you'd get lost," Kivi snorted, folding her arms across her chest, showing with her whole demeanor that if it weren't for our leader's request, she wouldn't have agreed to escort me.

"Is this your girlfriend?" Susan nudged me in the ribs, trying to tease me.

"Yeah, right." I rolled my eyes and, groaning, stood up from the chair, walking stiffly towards the girl. "I guess I'll be going then."

"Go ahead, you can come earlier tomorrow if you want," the dark-haired beauty waved her hand, gradually closing up her shop.

"Let's get going, I don't want to hang around here at this time," Inga turned and walked ahead of me.

I didn't feel like talking to the kid. She was a bit on edge, so any words from me would be taken as an offense. Better to stay silent than to later 'enjoy' elaborate responses to my questions, filled with sarcasm and bitterness. In these three days, I couldn't find a way to connect with the girl. She seemed to deliberately avoid me, trying to interact with me as little as possible. The rare exceptions of reading together don't count. During those moments, the girl just zoned out and didn't respond to anything. Of course, I could always try to take the book away and see her reaction, but it was obvious that she wouldn't like that.

Unlike Marco, Inga moved much faster, briefly scanning the area and not looking back. This was quite reckless, considering the dangers of Japan-Town that the guy had clearly explained. Perhaps it was due to the child's perception, which didn't fully appreciate the danger. If Ramirez, being older, couldn't get his point across, Kivi was even less likely to listen to me. I was younger than her, and that played a key role in a child's perception. They might partially listen to older ones, but unfortunately, not to the younger ones.

We reached the shelter quickly. To my relief, Inga didn't rush inside but carefully surveyed the surroundings. At least she was cautious in this aspect. Finding nothing suspicious, she waved her hand and climbed down. I quickly dove in after her, almost bumping my forehead against the brickwork. Awkwardly scratching my cheek, I came to my senses and squeezed further in, entering our "home." There was no sign of Marco and the others. They were probably out walking or busy with something else.

"Where are the other kids?" I tried to initiate a conversation with the little girl, hoping that talking might help overcome her internal shyness.

"Marco said he's going to the neighboring district to check out some places there. Han and Shiro are on the roof, tinkering with something or just messing around. Business as usual," Kivi shrugged.

"I see. Then I'll go and prepare something to eat."

"Do whatever you want, just don't burn the food," the girl waved her hand dismissively.