NANITE

"Hey Ray. Wanna smoke?" Julia asked, her voice a little rough, a little too casual as she held out a thin cigar.

Ray gazed at her, searching her sharp, green-blue eyes for what she was really asking. The chemicals in the cigar had no effect on him now, but the ritual, the invitation to share a moment of quiet away from the others, was something else entirely. She wanted to talk, really talk.

"Let's go outside," Ray said, gesturing toward the apartment door. He glanced over at Alyna, who was raising up from the coach.

"Alyna, can you stay with mom for a bit?"

Alyna paused. She nodded, her uncertainty barely hidden behind a brave face. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

Outside, the late morning air was sharp with city grit. The parking lot was a barren square of cracked pavement and overflowing dumpsters, bordered by blank concrete walls where the faint, shifting shimmer of an AR graffiti tag glimmered and faded. Sunlight glared off the glass and steel of distant towers. A delivery drone buzzed overhead, its shadow flickering across their feet.

Julia's lighter clicked—her hand steady, but her breath hitched for a fraction of a second as she drew in the smoke, letting it slow her down. She exhaled, the cloud curling against the city's heat. "So," she began, watching him closely through the haze. "How do you feel? Really. Any abnormalities?"

Ray rolled a loose bit of gravel under the heel of his boot, his jaw tight. "I'm good," he said, his voice quieter than he'd intended. "I found a way to take the edge off. It might sound stupid, but…" He hesitated, searching for the words to describe the indescribable. "Meditation. It… it actually works. It calms the noise, and… it's hard to explain, but—"

He tried again, looking out at the indifferent city. "It's like I can feel the nanites now. Not as something foreign or mechanical, but like they're a part of me. They move at my will, almost before I know I want them to. When I focus, when I let go, I can drift deeper. Into a sort of inner space. It's… beautiful, actually. Vast. Silent. It's like a digital ocean. I'm not just using the power—I am the power. The barrier is gone. It's all me."

Julia took another slow drag, letting the smoke drift from her lips. "No, Ray. That doesn't sound stupid at all." Her curiosity surfaced, her eyes analytical. "The nanites must be tuned to both your conscious and subconscious mind. It makes sense that a calmer and more focused mental state, a lower signal-to-noise ratio, would result in a cleaner connection. Meditation might be the key to unlocking their full potential. I say keep practicing. You might learn more than you expect."

Ray managed a faint, grateful smile, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. The silence between them was companionable, filled only by the city's living pulse—sirens wailing in the distance, a heated argument echoing from a nearby high-rise balcony, the low thrum of a maglev passing far overhead. He could almost imagine the warmth of the apartment inside, Alyna's quiet presence just beyond the wall.

He looked up, his eyes reflecting the harsh sunlight and distant neon. "Did you see the news? About what happened at the tech fair?"

Julia's eyes narrowed, her gaze going distant. A faint, sardonic smirk ghosted across her lips. "Some of my clients are chattering about it. The net's on fire—everyone's got a theory. A secret corporate prototype gone rogue, a relic from the last war, even alien tech… but I get the sense you know the truth."

Ray's breath caught. He hesitated, then let it go with a quiet sigh. "That was me. Yeah."

Julia studied him, her silence expectant, inviting. The city's sound pressed in—the drone of traffic, the hiss of the wind, a distant, jarring shatter of glass. Ray stared down at the asphalt, his fingers flexing and unclenching at his side.

"I have some kind of… system," he said, the words trembling slightly. "An override protocol. When I take critical damage, it activates. I black out, and… something else takes over. It's like a machine wearing my body and fighting for me. It knows more about what these nanites can do than I do."

Julia's gaze dropped, her brow knitting in deep, troubled thought. She flicked the ash from her cigar. Her hand hovered in the air for a moment, uncertain, before she finally reached over and gave Ray's shoulder a brief, solid squeeze—a silent, steadying gesture that was all she could offer. The two of them stood in the bright, indifferent daylight, the city's shadow and promise all around them.

"And what about Alyna?" Julia asked, her voice softer now, shifting from the analytical to the personal. "How are things going… with everything?"

Ray's lips pressed into a thin, conflicted line. "It's… hard," he admitted, the word feeling small and inadequate. He looked away, towards the shimmering heat rising from the parking lot. "She… she wanted us to be together. Physically. I tried. I wanted to. But it just… it wasn't there. Not nerves, not tiredness—just nothing. Like someone unplugged that entire part of me."

He let out a slow breath. A delivery drone buzzed past, its shadow crawling across the cracked asphalt at their feet. "I hated seeing how much it hurt her, that look of confusion in her eyes. I told her it wasn't her fault, and I meant it. But it's hard. I always thought… you know… that physical intimacy was the ultimate proof of love. But now… now I see her, and I hear her laugh, and I feel her hand in mine, and… it's enough. The love is still there. Maybe it's even stronger, purer, without all the other noise."

He stared at the sun-glinting windows of a distant tower.. "I don't know if that part of me will ever come back. And sometimes I worry she'll realize she deserves more than this, more than what I can give her. And I wouldn't blame her if she left."

Julia listened, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she nudged Ray's arm with her elbow—a gentle, reassuring gesture. "You're still you, Ray. And anyone with eyes can see how much you love her. In this city, that's what matters most." She finally let a sly, teasing grin slip onto her face. "Besides, you could always just absorb a 'Bolt-On Bravado.' I hear they're on sale in Slickrow for this weekend. "

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Ray snorted, then chuckled, a real, unforced laugh that eased some of the crushing heaviness from his shoulders. Julia finished her cigar down to the stub, then flicked it neatly into a nearby waste bin. She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked back towards the apartment building, Ray falling into step beside her.

Inside, she stood at the threshold, sunlight throwing pale, geometric rectangles onto the apartment's clean floor. It was time for her to leave. Alyna waved from the couch, and Lina called out a soft, "Take care, Julia."

Julia turned to Ray, her eyes gentle but full of their usual, wry spark. She gave his arm one last squeeze. For a moment, the city's noise faded away. It was just two friends—bound by a stubborn, unspoken loyalty.

"I'll let you enjoy your new home. I've got to get back to the clinic," Julia said, a small smile quirking her lips. She stepped out, her silhouette shrinking in the harsh glare of the hallway as the door whispered shut behind her. Ray lingered by the door for a moment, catching the last, faint whiff of her cigar smoke as it dissipated into the air.

Ray should have been thinking about all the things he had to do—figuring out the next step in his strange, dangerous, new life. But as he turned back to the main room, he watched the way the afternoon sun moved slowly across the clean, bare wall, and he decided to push the world away, just for a little while. He ignored the restless itch in his mind, the constant urge to get up, do something, be somewhere else. Not yet, he told himself. Not now.

He sprawled on the couch beside Alyna and Lina, the three of them squeezed together under a threadbare but clean thermal blanket. Alyna, using Ray's old, battered laptop, found a pirated stream of a trashy, pre-Collapse sitcom. Even Lina, at first pretending to grumble about the terrible acting and predictable jokes, couldn't help but laugh at the absurd, slapstick humor.

Later, Alyna dug up Lina's ancient, flickering datapad and challenged Ray to a retro tank-combat game they'd played obsessively when he was a kid. His reflexes, now sharper and faster than any human's, nearly broke the game's long-standing high score. Alyna howled with mock outrage, playfully accusing him of cheating and demanding a rematch. Even Lina joined in, her fingers, though trembling, surprisingly nimble as she navigated her small tank through pixelated mazes, a rare, competitive glint in her tired eyes.

Ray set up his laptop on the coffee table and, for a little while, they played together, the small room echoing with their shouts, their groans of frustration, and their genuine, unrestrained laughter. For those precious, sun-drenched hours, it felt like time had rewound, like the brutal, unforgiving world outside couldn't touch them. For now, Ray just breathed. He let himself simply be—just Ray, just home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, when the apartment had fallen quiet again, that he finally called Arty. The line crackled for a moment before a grainy webcam feed flickered to life, projecting Arty's face onto Ray's HUD—pale, eyes shadowed, his usual bravado faded at the edges.

"Hey, Ray. You… you all right, man?" Arty said, trying to sound casual, but there was a brittle edge to it, a tension Ray recognized all too well, even through the screen.

"I'm okay, Arty," Ray said gently. "I wanted to check on you. Maybe we could meet up?"

There was a pause on the other end, then Arty nodded slowly, rubbing at his tired, bloodshot eyes. "Yeah, man. Sure. Just… let me know where."

Ray's HUD flashed with a dozen pending reminders—tasks and unanswered questions. He dismissed them all with a single, focused thought. "I just moved into a new apartment," he replied, managing a small, reassuring smile. "I'll send you the location."

"A new place? Congrats, man," Arty said, his voice still subdued. "How is it?"

"I'll show you when you get here," Ray replied, letting a real, genuine smile slip through.

"It probably looks like a high-tech cave. That's so you, Ray-man."

"You know it," Ray shot back. "Got cyber-bats and everything."

Arty's laugh was weak, but it was real. "Good to hear you joking, man."

"Yeah," Ray said quietly, holding onto that small spark of warmth. "Me too."

When the call ended, Ray leaned back into the worn cushions of the couch. He would need to buy a new one soon, one large enough for all of them. He took a deep, unnecessary breath, feeling the immense weight of the day shift, lighten, just a little. There was plenty left unfinished. But not everything felt quite so urgent—not now, not with his family close and a friend who still answered when he called.

Ray waited at the maglev platform, neon lights flickering erratically overhead, their vibrant colors fractured by the grime on the old glass canopy. AR ads stuttered and glitched along the station walls, one screaming sensationalized, inaccurate headlines about the tech fair disaster. A squat, utilitarian cleaning bot trundled past, brushing his ankle with a cold, unwelcome blast of disinfectant spray. The air smelled of fried food and ozone.

He checked his HUD again. His gaze kept darting to the arrivals platform, searching for Arty in the shifting, anonymous crowd.

At last, Arty appeared, emerging from the train. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by slow, heavy, almost shuffling steps. His dark complexion seemed washed-out, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. He wore a battered, oversized jacket and a pair of brand-new, glaringly bright neon blue and green gloves—a splash of defiant color so out of place with his somber mood that it was almost painful to look at. For a moment, Arty just stood there, staring past Ray into the harsh, unforgiving pools of platform light, utterly lost. Then he blinked, forced a crooked, unconvincing grin, and shuffled forward.

"Hey, Ray-man."

"Hey, Arty." Ray stepped up, offering a cautious smile. "Rough night?"

Arty's laugh was a brittle, hollow sound. "You could say that. Haven't slept much. Every time I close my eyes, I just… I see it. That thing. The screams. The blood…" He trailed off, his new, brightly colored gloves twisting the strap of his bag, his knuckles white.

Ray hesitated, then placed a steady hand on Arty's arm, gentle so as not to touch the fresh bandages peeking out from beneath the gloves. "I'm sorry you had to see all that. I wish you hadn't."

Arty looked down, twisting the garish gloves between his fingers. "Picked these up on the way over. Stupid, right? I thought maybe… maybe the color would help. I remember when I was a kid, I had these lucky dino socks I wore to every math test." Ray almost smiled, picturing a miniature Arty with mismatched, brightly colored dinosaur socks. Arty just shrugged, his eyes suddenly, unexpectedly wet.

The two of them stood there in a charged silence, the city's restless pulse rising around them—the shouts of vendors, the distant movement of another maglev train, the sharp, pungent tang of fried soy and melting plastics. Ray felt an ache in his chest seeing his new friend so bruised and so broken, trying to find his footing in the traumatic aftermath.

"Hey," Ray said gently, "want me to give you a ride on my bike?"

Arty's eyes brightened, just a fraction, a tiny flicker of his old enthusiasm returning. "Yeah, man. Yeah. That'd be… that'd be really cool."

Ray nodded, leading Arty down the steps, past a vendor hawking steaming bowls of hot noodles and a flickering, holographic sign advertising cheap, illegal memory wipes. His bike waited at the curb—a sleek, obsidian-black machine, its frame traced with circuitry patterns that glowed a soft, reassuring red. As Arty climbed on behind him, his colorful gloves tightened on Ray's coat.

Ray handed him a spare helmet. Arty placed it on his head with a quiet click. Then Ray straddled the bike himself and raised his neck gaiter over his nose.

"Dude, I know it's, like, super cool to not wear a helmet," Arty said, his voice slightly muffled, "but aren't you gonna have a hard time seeing while you drive at, like, a billion miles an hour?"

"Got modded eyes," Ray responded, his voice calm. "At these speeds, wind isn't a problem."

"Oh. Right. Cool, then."