“Really?” Rafael’s pulse jumps. Maria never mentioned this. Then again, they’ve barely talked lately, exchanging only a few short V-link sessions where neither of them said much.
His mom scoffs. “I won’t be surprised when she ends up in a VitaCorp hospital bed. Or jail. Or worse, blacklisted.” She waves a hand. “Most likely she’ll be back in a few weeks, crying to move back in.”
“And we’ll welcome her,” Rafael’s father singsongs, drawinga glare from his wife. “She’s just following her heart. Something you wouldn’t understand…”
“Guys—” He only manages one word.
“Because I convinced you to take more college classes instead of blowing all our credits on art supplies? Be realistic, Julian. It’s not 2040. We have no use for ‘artists’ when there’s AI.”
“Ana, if everyone thought like you, do you think we’d have all this advanced tech and medicine? No! We’d be living like those lunatics in the Rust Valley!”
Nearby customers peer over as his father’s voice climbs.
Heat rushes to Rafael’s cheeks. He’s about to step in again when a flat, cheerful voice cuts in.
“Your orders are ready. Thanks for visiting Terra’s! Feeding the nation since 2075.”
A waiter drone hovers beside the table with a tray of food. His parents grin as if nothing happened, and Rafael lets out a breath, grabbing his plate. The drone whirs off toward the kitchen, leaving him with chocolate chip pancakes he used to inhale as a kid.
The first bite is warm and familiar until the synthetic sweetness kicks in, leaving a faint bitterness on his tongue.
He swallows and looks across the table. His mother’s attention has drifted to a vidscreen flickering above their booth. The Premiere Corp logo pulses in the corner while an AI anchor rattles off the evening’s headlines.
Her jaw tightens. She snaps her gaze to Rafael.
“Speaking of trouble—did you hear about that gang robbery near Premiere Billiards? Some poor woman was ambushed at an HOV stop.”
Rafael’s grip on his fork tightens. “What?” No matter whathappened between them, he prays Kane’s crew isn’t involved. Though petty theft doesn’t seem like their style.
She nods. “A gang from Brinewood, apparently.” His fingers ease. Not Shreveport. “They pushed her down, threatened her, and swiped her wristlink.”
“I hope she’s okay,” Rafael says. The words come easily, but the memory that rises with them doesn’t. Wren’s rifle pressed against his spine, pushing him into the van. Except their situations aren’t remotely the same. His wasn’t random violence. It was the only option Kane had left to keep Echo alive.
His father chimes in before he can sit with the thought. “Premiere Club ID’d the attackers. Something about upgraded sensors. Hopefully, VitaCorp and the others have the same tech now. Then we can lock them all up, huh? Let the rest of us live in peace.”
He stares down at his plate. Rafael should agree. This is the life he chose.
Still, the idea of Kane or anyone in his crew locked away twists a knot inside him. They aren’t the monsters people here imagine. They’re the ones holding Shreveport together, stepping in where the corps and the city refuse. Maybe his parents would understand that, too, if they knew the truth.
Rafael hesitates, fork suspended, searching for the right place to begin.
“Is something wrong?” his mother asks, leaning forward. Her brows draw together, and his father’s frown mirrors hers.
“I—” Rafael starts, then stops, startled by the urge to say more.
What would he even tell them? That he knows some of these so-called criminals? That not everything happeningoutside Midtown fits neatly into good and bad? Any part of that would spark arguments and lead to questions he can’t begin to answer.
So he takes the easier path. “Nothing. Just thinking about something I need to do at work.”
His parents exchange a relieved smile.
They slip into a discussion about VitaCorp’s new time-off policies while Rafael settles into his seat.
This is what peace looks like here. What he wanted.
A flashing vidscreen catches his eye when he reaches for his coffee, a promo for an upcoming cyber-gladiator tournament.
His chest aches. Kane would’ve grinned at the ad, tossed out some comment about these newbie fighters, then argue over who’s going to take the title.