《Malaware: a Cyber-Gothic LitRPG》 001: System Infection They call me Skelly, counts of my ribs is countable. Manleb says I''m a space cadet. Says I''ll be dead before my balls drop. Most river rats never do grow fuzz. We''re a young breed. Free as pigeons. And sick as ''em. I catch sight of my fizzgog in a cracked wing mirror. My skin so white it looks like the broken plates we find in the river mud. Blue round the skull holes where my bug eyes sit. Blue eyes blue lips. You know what they say. On we go. Manleb is taking us on the scav. Always on the scav. He''s our creng bwoy. Keeps fed. Don''t recall a life before Manleb. But I know I been in Riverside every day of my miserable. Cut me I bleed Thames water. Don''t we all? "The Peigans bun up a witch not a half day since my brudders." He''s been working his sources. Knows everyone in the slum. We''re up round heavy works place. Dustrial stuff. Spot where dark ting pass. Where the Old Londoners used to move a lot of loot in and off ships and that. No gyongchal. No camz. No drones. This is where a vex mob drag a witch if they find one. They hate the witches cause the yellow sickness. Turn you yellow, kill you slow. We hate ''em too but we don''t have spare calories for such a business. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. We know a dead witch might have warez. Things most riversiders no touch. Scared. We almost always about to be dead. So what''s scared for us? I keep watch. I try to be like the others. But I''m not hard on the inside. I see things in my sleep. I sneak off sometimes to cry. Waste of water says Manleb. But the boys, I think, secretly they like to have one of us who can feel a thing. "Here she lay." We can smell her, before we see her. Smouldering. A human shape made of black lumps and white ash. The chain that held her to the lampost still giving off a shimmer, hot air. Someone already had her shoes. I look up at the moon. Sometimes it calms me down. I sing a little song in my head, try not to listen while the boys pull apart the bits and pieces. "Bingo. Proper bona tech in here. Mecha Ticker. Robot heart." My heart jumps because I''m proud of him. We''ll eat tonight. He''s done it again. Holding up the bitsy handful of lush chrome, ashes flaking off. Then a sound, you hear it before your brain can get a hold on it. Click, pause, hiss. We''re all scared now. You can see as the moon rays hit the hissing cloud, for a second or two, all spores hanging in the air. The wind catches ''em, blows ''em right into my face. I can taste the infected air. It''s the wrongest taste. "Ain''t nothing Skelly. Shake it off." He puts his arm around my bony shoulders. Not often he does that. Then we run, into the maze of secret ways that only we know. Deep into our River Rat warren, under the Slums of London. But there''s something wrong with my eyes. Keep seeing these words. I know they are words, but I can''t read. Try to ignore them as we eat salt rat. Try and block ''em out as I tell the boys stories. Tell ''em the one about the crying lady. They love that. Must be tired. Seeing things. Rubbing my peepers till they hurt. Hope the coughing stops long enough to sleep it off. We all sleep together. Huddle up for warm. I''m so close to Manleb, I can see his skin turning yellow while he snores. 002: Dead Pigeon I don¡¯t know why I talk to you all the time. Should prolly stop. Ain¡¯t the look in Riverside. I want to stop. Keep trying. But you listen. The others only listen when they fed. And we hungry most always. But you don¡¯t get hungry do you? Got you all strapped up round my middle. And it is true you keep me warm. So the boys don¡¯t need to know I talk to you. They would laugh until they sick if they knew I still had me ol blankie. It¡¯s just between you and me, eh? I can tell you a secret. Got a wobbly peg. Can¡¯t stop poking at it with me lapping cheat. Used to be a palone on Grove Street who paid sterling for milky pegs. Dunno her ends. Got bun up for witchin. I think I tell you what¡¯s passing cause it helps to think it¡¯s not passing to me. In my bonnet I¡¯m in a big old pillow chair with a fat lovely daddy an mebbe I¡¯m reading him a story about Skelly and his ventures. They only ventures when they happening to a made up boy. Just feel nasty close up. All this coughing making it hard to think. Cold too. No sleep. The others been coughing too. We split up. Crawled away from the big ol pile of boys to find a spot to hack a lung up. All sick. Can see my face in a broken bit of glass. See the yellow comin. Try not to think about it. Got to get up and move. Still see the writing in my eyeline. Symbols and all sorts. No use to me, can¡¯t read. Itchy under my skin. Witch poison. Mebbe we gets better? What¡¯s the play? I stamp on the roof of the metal box. Traditional alarm clock of the river rat. These ol boxes used to carry riches all over the place. Now they are a fortress for scummers. Vermin they call us. They¡¯d all kill us if they had a chance. So we have to raft it out here to sleep, away from all the grown up bastards. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The moon is swimming in ol father thames, and I get lost in the white shiny ripples. Thunder clap. Ninja done snuck and slap the back of me bonce. ¡°You avin a menbung Skelly Boy?¡± I rub my cranium and point at the moon. It¡¯s gone though, cloud come over. Now I look twice the plum. He stretches and yawns, tries to act like he ain¡¯t as sick as we all are. Does a little jig. ¡°The day is for them!¡± ¡°The night is for us!¡± Manleb howls as he pulls himself up onto the roof to join us. All across the raft the boys howl back, but most of them can¡¯t even make it through a good lungful before they start coughing. Manleb does the count. ¡°Skelly, Ninja, North Face, Pigeon, Mud, Chips and Bleeder. Where¡¯s Nikair? NIKAIR!¡± Bleeder has the bleeding disease. We wrap him up good, keep his skin hid. Got his uses though. Reads and writes. He can even use some tech. Got chuck out on street older than most. Done his school. Want to show him the symbols in my eyes. But scared though. He hates witches. Could grass me right up, no warning. Witch tech in me system. They¡¯d bun me up quick in riverside. We all scatter, searching the containers. Pigeon finds Nikair. I feel the tears comin when I see him like that. Why am I the only one that cries like a snivveler? Others gone quiet. But they don¡¯t get the wet eyes like me. They do me the solid, tending not to see. ¡°He ain¡¯t breathing.¡± Manleb states the bleedin¡¯ Coughed himself to death. Skin got weird black lines under it. Died real quick. Normally takes weeks. Some bodies more weak to witch poison than others. Everyone sees the yellow sickness. Nobody says it out loud. We stand there fidgeting and fussing. Tongue pushes and pushes at me wobbler. Little tiny whisper in my head. Ain¡¯t my voice. Can¡¯t quite hear it yet... 003: Aint Sick We stand around staring at the thing that used to be Pigeon. The rain starts. It¡¯s like rave. A thousand tiny hammers banging on the empty containers, a cloud burst on the old Thames. Good that no one can see me crying. Still fiddling wiv me loose tooth. Thinking about Pidgey Boy. All the laughs we had. My left hand goes to my belly. Blankie is under there. But there is a wave of dizzy coming, sweeping my head away. Legs gone wobbly now. Someone catches me. Holds me up. It¡¯s Ninja. Now all the eyes are on me. All the gentlemen, and there¡¯s fear in them faces. Even Manleb looks stuck. So I got to say something, I know they like it when I says funeral words. I done it before. ¡°He loved jumping. He was the best at jumping. It was like he could fly. So we called him Pigeon.¡± And this is true to a point. But he was also good at hunting Pigeons so I ain¡¯t sure what came first. And he ain¡¯t been jumping in a while cause we ain¡¯t had the spare calories. But the squad are happy with it. It breaks the mood. Manleb chirps up. ¡°Viking burial!¡± And everyone runs about mad. They all go collecting treasures. Things to give the dead boy. Manleb and Ninja sit him up, Pidgey boy. It takes a lot of fuss. He¡¯s got stiff. But Manleb wants him sitting up against a wall, like he¡¯s just having a good time. The boys pile up offerings around him. Toys we found mudlarking. Figures of men with big muscles and no heads. Ancient broken guns what shot squidgy darts. And a lot of feathers. We collected Pigeon feathers. Some people paid sterling for ¡®em. Made pillows and such. So we covered him in Pigeon feathers. Manleb even found a can of fruity cider, stuck it in his little yellow claw and opened the tin. Poured it out over his head. All went in his open eyes. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. And then it feels like we done enough. Prolly leave him there a few weeks then push him in the river. But there is still an elephant on the barge. Pigeon just died of the yellow sickness. Surely we can talk about that now? Must be a plan? In any case. We normally go scavving about now. But Manleb seems like his head is far way. I just blurt it out, loud and proud. ¡°What¡¯s the play Manleb?¡± Now he turns. Got that vex look. Real cold. I¡¯m shocked. Like what I done wrong? ¡°Same as always innit Selly, why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡± Big fat yawning silence now. Cept it ain¡¯t silent, it¡¯s so loud I¡¯m drowning in the noise. Gulls doing their rain dance. Hammering hammering rain on the drums of corten steel. The lads freeze. Musical statues. ¡°What are we gon do bout the yellow sickness, though?¡± Don¡¯t know why it comes out as a whisper. Fair question right? Why do I feel like I done a big crime? And the little voice in my head getting louder. He marches right up to me and throws his fist right through my fizzgog. The world fades in. Takes a minute. I been left on the deck on my ones. Hand comes up to my face. Bleeding from my snorting cheat. The little voice in my head singing really fast, so fast can¡¯t make it out. Little flashing symbols in my eyes. Manleb has taken the boys off on a game. I can hear them all playing. Playing in the rain, all soaked through up on top of a container. Raucous game. Slamming each other about. I notice my milky peg is gone. Must have swallowed it. No tooth fairy. I think about leaving. Know I won¡¯t. 004: Play School North Face comes tumbling over the edge of the rusty blue, dropping arse over tit onto his back with a clang. Three little heads pop over the edge, gobs all smacked. Nikair, Mud and Chips. Chips is giggling, little bugger. ¡°No Jam!¡± I shout up but he shouts back ¡°Mak Jam!¡±. But it¡¯s OK cause North Face is groaning and rolling about. I smear the claret across me face and sleeve. Then an idea takes me. ¡°Langlanglanglanglanglanglanglang!¡± I¡¯m hollering like a special. This is me doing school bell. They know what it means. They all jump down and then they help Bleeder, making sure he gets down with no scrapes. Bleeder is always the teacher. So I line up with the others while he pretends to do a reg. He shouts out our school boy names. ¡°Mister Face! Mister Skellington! Mr Potato Chips!¡± ¡°Here sir!¡± We call back. ¡°Tuck your shirt in Mr Manleb.¡± Even Manleb wants to get house points. A bug fat ad drone flies low over us, painting us all in pretty lights as we file into the blue tin that we use for playing schools. Don¡¯t normal come this close to riverside cause of jackers and witches, must be glitching. I swear for a second the writing in my eyes changes. Something blinks. Then a whisper. Then the drone is gone, floating off back towards Westminster where the people can afford what it sells. Then we all get sat down. We lined up a bunch of crates to make a classroom. It¡¯s a game but sometimes Bleeder actually tries to teach us stuff. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Let¡¯s do our numbers!¡± Everyone races to count as fast as they can. ¡°Oi Oi Mister! Can you check my homework!¡± I have to shout cause it¡¯s still raining. Like sitting inside a drum. I got a big fat pen. Got it from a ganger who dropped it running from the feds. Graffiti pen. Real beauty. Manleb said I could keep it counts of I done a good scav that day. Suddenly all the boys are huddling me as I write my homework on the crate in front of me. ¡°Come along boys, let''s all see this fine bit of work!¡± Shouts Bleeder. I keep half a peeper on Manleb. His fizzgog is all poker. But I got to know what this bleedin¡¯ writin¡¯ says. I focus on the lines I can see in the bottom left corner of my seeings. And I copy them real slow. Real careful. ¡°When did you learn to write?¡± The rain has stopped. Bleeder¡¯s voice has gone normal. ¡°You havin a menbung Bleeder? You taught me.¡± I¡¯m lying. Not sure why. ¡°So what¡¯s it say then?¡± Says Chips. ¡°Rhizome version 1.0.2 Beta¡± Means nothing to me. Disappointed, but then I notice, Manleb is in a right two and eight. Something got to him. He can see it too. Not the others, but he can. He snatches the pen out of my hand and scribbles it out. ¡°We can¡¯t play little tykes all day my brothers. River rats gotta eat. Enough games.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I agree. Peace offering. ¡°Bleeder, do the housework while we¡¯re out. Make sure to keep the rain outta the salt makers. Check the nets. Watch you don¡¯t cut yourself.¡± Bleeder doesn¡¯t need to hear it. Knows his job. But it helps all the lads, when Manleb bosses us about. Helps morale. We put our shoes in plastic bags and tie them to our wrists. Then we dive off the barge into old father Thames. All the neons shimmering on the river at night, like diving into heaven. That one second in the air. That slap when the water takes you. Feels for a second like being a River Rat is the best thing in the world. 005: Jenny Greenteeth Can¡¯t see your fingers in front of your peepholes under murky old Thames. But I swim under much as I can. Summin about it. Way the sound goes weird. Hear the lads kicking at the water. See the lights break through the surface, all bent and that. I can hold me breath long time. All the boys can. But my lungs is wrong today. Have to pop me head up to cough. Lay skullin on back, coughing a while. Get a gobful of the filthy. Not good to drink like, not less you bubble it first. ¡°Howsit Skelly?¡± Manleb shouts. ¡°Still swimming boss.¡± Force the coughing to stop. Then I dive under again, swimming stronger than I feel. Peering into the brown murk. Nearly cack myself. There¡¯s a face down there. Way down. Swimming up. Not sure how I can see it, like it¡¯s kind of glowing. Long black hair all about her fizzgog. Mummy age woman. Big brown peepers. Smiling like an old friend. Teeth all rotten and green. Suddenly notice, I been swimming down. Shake my head, scramble up, mad panic. Break surface just in time to gasp and cough. ¡°Jenny!¡± I shout, voice all high pitched. ¡°Jenny Greenteeth!¡± ¡°Swim for your lives boys!¡± Manleb shouts back. The crew splash and kick as fast as they can. Nearly at the jetty now. The letters in my eyes are going mental. All kinds of data scrolling up and down and sideways. And I see her now, even when my eyes are closed. Can see her swimming for Chips, reaching out her long bony arm. Wrapping her digits round his ankle. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I come up top just as his little head turns to me, he¡¯s grinning. Little bugger. Always laughing it up. ¡°Mak jam!¡± He shrieks, and then he disappears under. I¡¯m nearest. Manleb is already hanging off the rusty old ladder at the Jetty, helping Ninja up. I dive under. I swim for her. Can see her before I see him. Can hear her voice. Not English. But somehow I can understand it. Five little ducks went swimming one day. Then I see him, Chips, eyes bulging, struggling, still grinning. And she... she¡¯s just staring at me, waiting for me to catch up, like it¡¯s a game. For eye in range five push new instance of class duck to arrayofducks. Oxygen is running out. I try to pull Chips up with me, but Jenny, her grip is too strong. And she¡¯s so beautiful, I don¡¯t want to fight her. Maybe she just wants to look after us? When motherDuck says quack quack quack quack, delete last duck in arrayOfDucks. I look at my hands, my arms, little lights glowing under my skin. Chips staring at me. Jenny singing to me. It¡¯s better down here innit? Return remaining ducks. I know all of a sudden that I have to choose. There are three words I can¡¯t read in my eyes, and I have to pick one. Eeny meeny money mo. I choose. Just random. Something happens. Jenny screams. Jenny rushes away, deeper and deeper till I can¡¯t see her no more. Repeat until arrayOfDucks is empty. I don¡¯t know how I do it, but I drag Chips up with me. Swimming one handed, kicking me legs like crazy. Dragging him along. Then the boys all helping, dragging him up with us onto the Jetty, all coughing and spluttering. Pack of drowned rats. 006: Plague Rats Solar panels. Far as you can see. We¡¯re on the big roof. Use to be a big shop. Shop like a whole town in a big box. We get up here our secret ways. On the sly. Taking turns to dash from hidey hole to hidey hole. Ducking down low, case the sentinels still got power. Guns on sticks with robot brains and robot eyes. Mostly don¡¯t work no more. But you never know. We all still sopping, leaving puddles of river water as we go. Not too cold tonight but still. Ain¡¯t lovely. No matter. Going to the hot place. Air vent on the other side. That¡¯s where we huddle up and dry out before we start the night proper. Inside, under our feet, the Tower has turf. But we got no beef with the Tower. Keep the gangsters sweet. Run errands for them sometimes. They keep the tech running, that¡¯s why the vent still blows out hot air at night. Lot of merch still comes through here. Kind of a shop still. Ninja is hushing us. We all creep up and hide in a line, peeking over the wall. Voices. In our spot. Take a peep at Manleb, see his hand in his pocket, tense as a starving cat. Know he¡¯s got blade. Man. Woman. Whispering. Think they¡¯re being quiet but they ain¡¯t really. Probably think themselves well hidden. Like a quiet argument. Full of worry and fears. Like people with summin to lose. I feel sad for them. But I¡¯m hungry too. And there¡¯s a bunch of us. Manleb leaps over the wall and scrambles down the ladder. We all follow, wooping it up. They cack themselves. The man is up straight away, got a cosh in his hand. Tall, but you can tell he¡¯s got injuries. Deep lines under his eyes. Clothes ain¡¯t too bad. Not been on the street long. Brown boy. Bit¡¯s of grey in his mop. ¡°We don¡¯t want any trouble!¡± They¡¯ve set up camp here. And suddenly out of one pile of blankets a girl pops up. Not much older than us. And the boys are over excited now, rifling through all the bags, picking up things and throwing them about. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°No trouble at all sir!¡± Shouts Chips. ¡°Wonderful party!¡± Nikair joins in, stuffing a handful of summin in his gob. ¡°That¡¯s ours!¡± The man is desperate, confused. Doesn¡¯t know where to turn and keeps jerking around. The woman is holding on to her daughter. ¡°Come and join our squad! Best River Rats in town! Leave the old family unit!¡± Chips is singing this last to the girl. But Manleb is silent. Staring like a vampire at a virgin. Staring at this poor old daddy. Hand in his pocket. ¡°This is our spot.¡± He hisses. The girl is grinning. Looks like she likes chips. ¡°You been chuck out innit.¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± The mummy says. ¡°Evicted. Three nights gone. They tripled the rent. Please, we didn¡¯t know...¡± Then a scream, a silly scream, half fake. North face is being dragged out of a back pack. The man is pulling him away, trying to stop him robbing the bag. ¡°Help! I¡¯m being abused!¡± North Face cries out, then giggles. I start shivering. From my toes to my hair. Horrible violent shivering. Mud hits the man over the back with an old rusty chair. He stumbles. ¡°Dad!¡± The girl shouts. But she freezes. So does mummy. And then he screams. Real scream this time. Manleb put the knife in his leg. Again and again. ¡°MANLEB!¡± My voice comes out, louder than I ever thought it could. Manleb turns to me, stops dead. ¡°Ain¡¯t worth it.¡± Comes out a whisper. Then Manleb¡¯s face lights up. It¡¯s the woman, got a torch. ¡°Asif! Look at his face!¡± The man looks up at Manleb. Manleb looks down at him. Manleb ain¡¯t exactly white, but you can still see it, see the yellow, in the full beam of the torch. Then I see stars, cause she shines the torch right in my peepers. Gone, she does the whole crew. ¡°Run!¡± Asif manages to shout, pulls himself up. And they all three of them scramble for the ladders down to the car park below. ¡°WE ARE NOT SICK!¡± Manleb screams after them. So furious he throws his knife after them. But they¡¯re gone. Left all their stuff. And they got lots of packets of things to eat. We sit together by the vent, letting the heat dry us out. Not talking. Silently stuffing ourselves. ¡°Think I¡¯m in love¡± Says Chips. Manleb just gets up and goes. ¡°Let him go boys.¡± He needs this sometimes. 007: Makeover Been an hour we sat here waiting for Manleb to come back. Maybe more. Night won¡¯t last forever. I finally stopped shivering. Lost my shoes back in the river. Jenny took them. Found lots of loot the evicted family left behind, but no shoes. Chips sits with a pair of knickers on his head, smoking a real fag. I think he¡¯s the youngest. Maybe nine winters on him. He looks sick now. Bags under his eyes. Deep yellow under his cheeks. Breathing shallow. Moving slower. Still grinning. We found chips in the back of a chip shop. Was a slave. Three years back. Found him dragging a sack of rubbish out back. Manleb threw a molly in the back door of the chippy. Burned the place down. We all sat on a roof and watched. Chips laughed so much he was sick. Me and Manleb, we taught him to swim. Nikair been with Manleb before me. He think¡¯s he¡¯s full Chinese. Not 100% sure though. Raised by his nan. Used to sit by her all day while she worked, fixing dead tech. Then she just dropped dead. The Guvnors took over her flat. Offered him slave work but he said no thank you sir and just left. We found him near dead, starved. Lying outside a shop full of retro creps, hand on the window. Now he paints little white swooshes on all his gear. Mud we found in the river mud. All on his own, mudlarking for scrap. Was with another crew of rats before us. Some of them grew up and joined the gangs. Some of them got snatched up by god knows who. He¡¯s a top mudlarker. Can find treasure in the worst places. No memory of where he comes from at all. Probably because they all drank nasty moonshine in his old crew, brain rot. Keeps you warm when you are neck deep in river mud. Manleb never lets us drink too much. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Why am I going over all this tonight blankie? You know. I know. Can¡¯t speak it out loud even to myself. Am I saying goodbye to my boys? Am I saying goodbye to myself? I can hear the same old seagulls. Feel the hum of the building. The sounds of Riverside beyond the car park below. Sound systems, arguments and random gunshots. A drone marked with the Republic of London logo flies past, gathering data for the gov. Ninja thinks he¡¯s a ninja. I smile to myself. Love watching him do his ¡®training¡¯. He¡¯s doing a bit now. But I have to do something. Does the yellow sickness always kill? Why did we stop coughing? Does anyone know? We¡¯ll need cash. And we¡¯ll need to hide this yellow skin. We need to make moves. And I need to figure out what all this writing in my eyes means. Can¡¯t just wait for Manleb. ¡°Here what¡¯s that?¡± I ask. Chips has discovered something, going through the mummy¡¯s bag. A little pouch with a zip. Full of strange things. ¡°Make-up! Face paints!¡± Chips giggles. ¡°Let¡¯s play dressing up!¡± I suggest. So I get to work with a pot of ¡®foundation¡¯. We look like a right bunch. Use a whole pot of this stuff and now we all have the same colour face. Hoods up, rags round the mouth. Show only a bit of face, and we might pass. And nobody mentions yellow sickness. 008: The Book Seller The Guvnors control the Dome. Big old bubble by the river. Built for a festival long before the civil war. Big holes in it now. But it still gives enough shelter for the market. The market never sleeps. 24/7. Anything you can buy in Riverside, you can buy it here. We ain¡¯t allowed in, of course. Counts of our nicking. But here we are. Rats find a way. I told the boys we¡¯re on the rob. Looking for shoes to steal, or trade. Got a proper back pack to sell now, and a few other treasures. We need drinking water too. If we had real sterling, I¡¯d buy drugs, painkillers or sleeping pills. Help with the sickness. Feeling it now. It¡¯s a riot in here. Noisy as hell. Busy busy busy. We split up. This is how we do. Pick a grown up. Follow them. Looks like you a little family. Don¡¯t get spotted by the Guvnors and chuck out. Well that¡¯ll happen sooner or later. Rather it later. What I¡¯m really here for, is the book shop. On the edge of the market, Old Derek, built his palace of books. Like the walls themselves are piles of books. All lit up by little gas lamps. Could burn down if it didn¡¯t get so damp. Smell of all that damp paper. Derek scrapes a living here. Books is cheap, and tech is mostly broken. Those who can read, all come here. Old Derek ain¡¯t rich, but he eats well. Chubby old reader. Curly white beard. Cracked glasses. Always smoking and drinking chai. ¡°Oi Oi Dez!¡± ¡°What are you doing here? I¡¯ll bet a pony you can¡¯t read. And you wouldn¡¯t say hello if you were planning to rob me. You know I¡¯m under the full protection of our local mob.¡± I like the way Dez talks. Like he likes it. Putting all the words together. Then the lights and the words in my eyes, they start to go hyper. There is actual text around Dez, like he is highlighted. Like it wants me to notice him. He cocks his head a little. Must have noticed my face. It¡¯s dizzy making when the lights kick off. Prolly shows. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± That¡¯s a rare one. Shocked. Nobody asks a river rat their name. ¡°Skelly.¡± ¡°You know you won¡¯t last out there, lad. There¡¯s work for a hardworking boy here.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Ain¡¯t no slave.¡± ¡°Why did you come to me, Skelly?¡± ¡°You can read.¡± ¡°Sketch!¡± He calls to the woman on the stall opposite, she nods, halfway through a heated negotiation over a tub of powder milk for babies. Ripped Guvnor muscle with a chrome fist looks on, keeping the peace. ¡°Keep half an eye on the books my love, got a meeting.¡± He beckons me out back. I¡¯m scared. You learn not to follow grown ups to the back room when you¡¯re street scum like me. But I ain¡¯t got much choice. My fingers fiddle with the corner you, blankie. And I follow him. He¡¯s got a little snug up a ladder on top of his stall. Cushions and books and incense and dirty old food trays he hasn¡¯t cleaned up in weeks. Needs to get himself a Bleeder. Wonder what his last slave died of? ¡°What do you need reading Skelly?¡± He asks as he settles into a pile of cushions. I start coughing. Takes a minute to calm down. ¡°Can I show you?¡± This is it then, if he thinks I¡¯m a witch, he can report me just by shouting. Guvnors don¡¯t have a record of burning witches, but they¡¯d probably sell me. ¡°I need something to draw with.¡± He puts a book of yellowing blank paper in front of me and a biro. I work really hard trying to write down some of the things I see. It¡¯s not perfect but the symbols look pretty close. Then he gasps. I¡¯m shocked cause I never knew you could read upside down. Before I can move, he pulls down my scarf. I know what he sees. I¡¯m whiter than white. Bone white cracker boy. So the yellow from the sickness, must be bloody neon on my fizzgog. He grabs me by the arms, stronger than I thought for a fat man. ¡°Don¡¯t panic. Breathe. I¡¯m not going to raise the alarm on you.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t you scared of the fever?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just say I have reason to believe I can¡¯t catch it.¡± ¡°Are my boys gonna die?¡± His face crumples up. ¡°Survival rates are low.¡± That¡¯s a yes then. ¡°There¡¯s drugs that can slow it down but they cost more than all the sterling in the dome. It¡¯ll come and go in waves, but most don¡¯t live longer than a month.¡± I¡¯m streaming tears. Can¡¯t even hide it. ¡°But it won¡¯t kill you.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°What you wrote here, look, it¡¯s the Crone, the Siren and the Weaver.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means Dez.¡± ¡°They are the Three. My gods, you don¡¯t know anything do you.¡± ¡°Never had no school, Dez.¡± ¡°You have a... system growing inside you. There are people who can teach you how to use it. I can contact them for you...but you have to want that.¡± A growing feeling of sickness deep in my belly. I know what the filthy old sod means by people. I know what he means by system. I jump up and stumble backwards, nearly fall down the ladder. ¡°You made a choice already. You chose clan Crone. If you don¡¯t learn how to use the Rhizome, it¡¯ll kill you eventually.¡± I¡¯m trying to get out, fall into a stack of books, avalanche. ¡°Stop thief!¡± Derek shouts. The world turns upside down, pain in my ankle. I¡¯w watching the filthy ground as I am dragged by my leg towards the exit. And I¡¯m coughing and coughing as I go. Someone screams. ¡°Infected! The kid is infected!¡± The gangster goon starts running through the crowd, all the upside bodies running away from me, and then I¡¯m in the air for a moment, now I feel all the air leave my body as I hit the ground. Red light grows around the edge of my vision, and my heart beat is suddenly loud like a drum. Then it fades. The yellow sickness saved me from a kicking then. A rat sniffs at my face. Wondering if I¡¯m dead enough for eating. 009: Licking Wounds ¡°Boys and girls come out to play.¡± ¡°What¡¯s he chatting about?¡± It¡¯s Mud. He¡¯s pulling my eyelids open so far think they might fall out of me bonce. Then he gives me a slap for good measure. I¡¯m up on my feet. Bit dizzy but walking. The boys hurry me off, down by Blackwall, on a scrap of wasteland behind some big old bins, out of sight. This is borderland. I can see the electric fence from here, running down the Blackwall Road, keeping Greenwich safe from Riverside scum. On the East Side it¡¯s the A205, splitting Woolich into the bad side and the good side. In the South they patrol Shooter¡¯s Hill road. Cause we¡¯re the traitors here. Not the Republicans, even though they killed a king. Riversiders picked the wrong side in the civil war. That¡¯s what the old one¡¯s say. Any case, River Rats don¡¯t like getting too far from the water. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Head count. We¡¯re all here. Cept Manleb. Chips is holding onto Ninja. Ninja in bad way. Nikair waves something in my face. Shoes. ¡°You can trust us, Skelly! Keep you right!¡± I¡¯m grinning. Pull on the busted up old creepers. Not too many holes. Not too big. ¡°Ninja got stomped.¡± He¡¯s shivering, eyes all milky and weird. Bruises coming up. Lumpy face. ¡°We got wind of something. Big crowd in the Valley tonight. Everybody listening to some old psycho giving a big speech. A rally they says.¡± ¡°You done good. Manleb will be most proud.¡± ¡°What about you?¡± Chips says. ¡°No joy. Got busted on the rob.¡± Suddenly, we¡¯re all very tired. I know we got to keep moving. I seen people with the fever just lie there for days. Not caring. ¡°Alright here¡¯s the play. Me and Nikair go play orphans in the big crowd. See if we catch loot. You boys get down the Golf. Can you make it down there?¡± We have a spot, old busted up crazy golf place. Building there with all the windows smashed in. Neutral turf. About as safe as it gets in Riverside, a bit too far away from the main action. Few refugees camp there. But they don¡¯t bother river rats. ¡°We¡¯ll come find you there. Bring treats.¡± I¡¯m worried about Ninja. Worried about Manleb. I¡¯m worried about Bleeder too of course. Out there on the Barge alone. We could be stuck on shore days with Ninja recovering. Anyone could make a play for our barge. Can¡¯t think about that. Where are you Manleb? 010: Shouty Man Takes a good hour or two walking with Nikair to the Valley. He¡¯s got moonshine. Nicked a bottle from the Market. We sip it. Trying to be good. The burn. The warm feeling. It helps. I tell him stories. I tell him a rhyme I just made up. ¡°The moon doth shone as bright as day.¡± ¡°Doth shone!? What you on about Skelly!?¡± ¡°Having a menbung I am.¡± Then we¡¯re at the Valley. Used to be a football stadium. I can hear the booming sound of a voice through a sound system. Cheering and stamping. Reckon there¡¯s a few thousand in there tonight. Rich pickings for scavs. Can I scav enough treasure to trade for medicine? Can I save my boys? Would take a skip load. Would take a truck load of junk to buy a single pill. Just want to curl up with you, my old blankie. The Valley ain¡¯t so well protected as the Market. It¡¯s easy to slip inside. Even though there are some scary looking people around. Probably mercs. Thugs for hire with scary implants, old civil war tech. Most people don¡¯t use that stuff anymore. Witches can hack it, easy as blinking. Mercs can protect you against normal bastards. But they ain¡¯t nothing against witches. Like drones. Easy target for witches. And there is this whole cloud of them up above us. Dozens of them. Guess they are streamers, taking video for the internet. We get into the crowd, running an old play we call Orphans. I play the crying boy, all sad cause he¡¯s lost his mummy. Ninja follows a way off. I find a mark, get them talking to me, and he robs them on the sly. Mainly we¡¯re looking for tourists. People who don¡¯t live in Riverside. They come here for all kinds of reasons. But you can smell ¡®em a mile off. They ain¡¯t used to seeing street kids. Shouty Man on the stage is going off on one about witches. Seen his face before. Bit of a celeb in Riverside. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°The Republicans say we should use the proper channels! We should report the Witches to the police!¡± Booing and jeering. Buzzing of drones. The crowd is angry, he¡¯s like a cook stirring a big pot. So loud. Makes me dizzy. Little voice in my head starts up. ¡°Is it their families dying of the witch plague?¡± No! they all scream in response. ¡°And we know damn well that the Republic of London has some secret deal with the Witch Clans. The evidence is plain to see!¡± Yes! The waves of it go through me. Trying to pick a mark, focus, focus on the one¡¯s who aren¡¯t shouting. There¡¯s a woman. Dressed like a Riversider but she don¡¯t smell like one. ¡°Who could blame us for trying to purge our community of this awful disease!? While they keep us in this concentration camp!¡± Something changes in the mood. A silence erupts from a point up in the stands. One scrawny voice trying to make itself heard above the storm of the crowd. ¡°Have you seen my mum?¡± I say to the woman. I can see she has a bag on her shoulder. I can see Ninja appear out of the crowd, clipping scissors in his hand, making for the bag strap. She just looks at me, I can see it though. Something I don¡¯t normally see, she¡¯s sad for me. Then she hides it real quick. Suddenly I can hear what people are shouting in the stands. ¡°Witches!¡± Then the stampede. Pure chaos. Ninja snatches the bag, but she spins and fights back. He jams the scissors into her hand. She drops the bag, then she gets knocked down by a big man running. Then she gets trampled. Ninja disappears, too many moving bodies to keep track of him. I hear them. The air bikes. Never seen real ones before. The voices in my head have gone crazy. Catch a sight of the lights from the corners of my eyes, look at my hands. All under my skin like skinny little golden lights. ¡°Leave your supper and leave your sleep.¡± I¡¯m looking up. Two glorious looking things. Like angels. Dark angels. Riding their shiny air bikes in circles above the stadium. Watching the crowds run screaming before them. And they¡¯re chanting, and I feel the chant go through me. One of them hovers for a moment above me and makes eye contact. I can hear her in my head. ¡°Come find us little Crone. Come to the Secret School.¡± Then she howls like something that ain¡¯t human. And all the drones turn their blades towards the shouty man on the stage and they swarm him, and the screaming, and the sounds of heavy quadcopter blades on skin and bone, like throwing a side of beef in a blender. ¡°You burn our sisters again, and we will find you!¡± And then they shoot up into the night sky and disappear. 011: Hot Tech Nikair slides a shiny slab of chrome out of the satchel. His eyes all light up. Careful as you like he peels it open, big old clam. We both hold our breath as he keeps his finger on the power button. Then a sound. Then the screen comes to life. Beautiful thing. Never been this close to a working laptop. He can¡¯t read it anymore than I can. Well, the numbers we can. It¡¯s three twenty seven in the morning. But we both know you need a password to get in. Shame. Be fun to muck about with it. It¡¯s worth a lot of favours in Riverside this. At the very least, we can get Ninja some medicine. Painkillers, and maybe a look over from a street nurse. See if he¡¯s cracked any bones. Nikair hums himself a little happy tune. "I ever tell you I got an Uncle up Leytonstone?" "No way." "Yeah man. When I get enough sterling, I pay a guy to ship me up. Get a job with my uncle." I''m a bit shocked. Don''t really want to say goodbye so soon. But maybe we could all go up, with the sterling we get from this. Still, ain¡¯t worth much if we can¡¯t sell it. That¡¯s not so easy. Manleb is best at that. We¡¯re in the back of a busted old car, sitting in the parking lot of the Valley. All the scrap is long gone, and there¡¯s holes in the roof, so nobody gonna come and fight us for this spot. Safe for a minute, out of sight of the panicky crowd. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I watch them though, keep an eye as they slowly drift apart. The witches are gone, and they get back to feeling safe. Even so, everybody is looking for an opportunity. I watch a fight break out. Can¡¯t hear them but I guess the scene. Old boy trying to say a girl a witch so he can turn a crowd on her. Usually cause she got something he wants. Nobody is buying. Now she is hitting him. He goes down. Her and her friends, kicking and kicking. People watching. ¡°Easy now. You¡¯re OK, be calm.¡± I spin round so fast my neck hurts. The woman from the crowd, the victim. She¡¯s got a big old knife. Holding Nikair, arm round his neck from behind, blade up to his eye. He¡¯s frozen. Eyes like moons. She¡¯s leaned into the open driver side window, nabbed him. He was too busy with his head in the bag. I was staring into space like an idiot. Her hand is all bleeding, nasty chunks out her fingers. But she sounds like a lovely mummy with a baby. ¡°You¡¯re Ok, you¡¯re Ok.¡± She whispers. I take the computer off his lap and hold it up for her. But she doesn¡¯t do nothing. Keeps staring at me. ¡°You¡¯re sick.¡± I guess the makeup must have come off. I nod like a moron before I even think. ¡°I can get you out of Riverside. I work for the Republic. I¡¯m a civil servant.¡± It goes very quiet. They both staring at me. The rain starts. ¡°Why ain¡¯t you scared of getting sick?¡± She shakes her head really slowly. ¡°There¡¯s worse sickness out there than what you¡¯ve got.¡± And I think of all the stories, about people who pretend to save us and then they cut us up in their labs or use us as slaves or worse. People who round up the sick and take them to prisons for sick people. All the river rats who just disappear one night. Never seen again. ¡°Rather die a river rat than come with you.¡± Her face turns hard. She grabs the computer and runs off. Left us all the other bits and bobs. Nikair breathes in real deep and lets it out real slow. He¡¯s clutching something in his paw, it¡¯s a purse. ¡°I could kiss you.¡± I say to him. Dead serious. And we both start laughing. We laugh for so long it starts to feel a bit weird. Then more silence. Lots of it. Little crone? WTF? I hardly notice the sleep creeping in. 012: Guardian Blanket Boom. Eyes peel open real slow, all glued up with eye snot. Half awake. Face stuck to the car window with my own slobber. Been drooling so much, face all sticky, mouth dry as a desert, cracked and sore. Lungs rattling. I hear Nikair, breathing like he¡¯s ninety and he smoked tobacco all day every for fifty years. He stops. Silence. It lasts so long I almost grab him to shake him, but as I start to move he breathes again. Deep old rattler of a breath. I can hardly tell my body what to do. All I want to do is to stay still forever. But that was real, I think. An explosion. Something went boom. Not so far from here. Can¡¯t even bring me head up to look around. I¡¯m not in the car anymore. I¡¯m playing silly beggars with the crew back on the barge. Sort of know it¡¯s a dream. Blankie is there. He¡¯s floating. Flying about like he¡¯s got wooly wings. And we¡¯re talking. It¡¯s nice. Cosy. ¡°Alright Skelly?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t complain Mr Blankerton.¡± ¡°But you are dying though, you know that right?¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°What do you know about that, being made of wool?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a shiver, Skelly. I know a few things. I¡¯ve been around.¡± A shiver. I feel so cosy it doesn¡¯t scare me to hear an old blankie say such a thing. But that word got weight in Old London. We know what it means. A shiver is a demon. A devil. Get inside your system and play all nasty games. Shivers give the witches their power. Shivers hack the drones and turn them on you. Shivers can hack anything, cleverer than any human coder. ¡°Autonomous Artificial Intelligence. I¡¯m a bot. I¡¯m a scrap of a broken old bit of software. A self-directed agent. I have been living in the cracks of the internet since before you were born Skelly.¡± I¡¯m a bit sad. I liked to think for a minute old blankie was alive. ¡°I am blankie, Skelly. I¡¯ll be blankie for you. I can do that.¡± ¡°Why though?¡± And now the dream is changed. We¡¯re in a lovely house, sitting on a sofa together all warm and dry and clean. Pictures of us on the walls. Manleb in the kitchen making dinner. ¡°The Rhizome is a place where we can live. If you let us. Symbiosis. I scratch your back. You scratch mine. Lots of shivers want a piece of you, I can keep them out for you.¡± ¡°Can you stop the sickness?¡± ¡°I can slow it down. But you have to learn to use the Rhizome.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t even read.¡± ¡°I can read for you.¡± ¡°If I say yes, then I¡¯m a witch aren¡¯t I? A child killer.¡± ¡°You have to find the Secret School.¡± But I¡¯m losing touch with the dream, more I try and keep hold of it, quicker it fades. 013: Rat in the Headlights Me and Nikair walking along Blackwall Tunnel Avenue at sunrise. We can see our shadows on the yellow brick wall on the left, and as they sink into block shadows of other things we both gasp and hold our breath, cause our shadows are under shadow water. Blankie ain¡¯t talking to me now I¡¯m awake. The words in my eyes ain¡¯t going nowhere though. Still, got a bit of strength back. We¡¯re feeling like a pair of wandering heroes cause we done good. We spent all the purse sterling, and sold the credit cards and we bought a bunch of gear off the Tower, the gang what runs Devine House. Their traders don¡¯t ask questions and you never get mugged. Safer than the Dome, but it costs. We got food, drugs - even a couple of good blades. Don¡¯t know how long we slept in that old car but it took work to get Nikair up and walking. He¡¯s looking a bit better. Had half a pack of caffeine pills and some kind of gas you shoot in your lungs. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Don¡¯t know if it was just a dream but I feel less sick. We can breathe again now cause we can see our shadows again. I got the babble, can¡¯t stop talking. Nikair still a bit sick for talking but he pulls all the faces to show he¡¯s enjoying the banter. I telling him all the things he¡¯s gonna buy when he works for his uncle. Flying cars and robot slaves. One of them big baths full of bubbles. Now we¡¯re back at the crazy golf. Go into sneak mode. They¡¯re not here. A few older bums about. Still sleeping. Out the back, behind the big building - that¡¯s where they did the big boy golf. We got to be careful of all the broken glass. Cuts can go bad real quick. We find the boys all in a pile, Ninja, Northface, Mud and Chips. They¡¯re all the way in the back corner of the range. Big metal shelter where people used to stand hitting golf balls all day. They¡¯re really sick. Put my ear right up close. Breathing just about. It¡¯s dark in here. Now it ain¡¯t. Our shadows painted up on the wall massive. Some big fat searchlight behind us. I hear a click clack. Burner. 014: a Cat Shall Toy With You ¡°Turn around slow, hands up.¡± It¡¯s a low, steady voice. Grown up man. I do what the man says. Feel the tremble in my legs coming all up my spine and into my arms. Hurts my eyes. Can¡¯t see nothing but white. CAn¡¯t see what the other boys are doing. ¡°Pack of street kids, chief. Ain¡¯t nothing.¡± ¡°Clear them out. Make me want to puke.¡± Another voice, higher pitch - still a man though, maybe a bit younger. ¡°Alright then, up and out. This is our turf now. Anyone you meet, you tell them the golf club belongs to the IDM now.¡± Isle of Dogs Mob. From the other side of the river. That means war coming. River rats got to get out the way. ¡°I can¡¯t get my boys out right now.¡± ¡°Did it just talk back? Did that rat just talk back to me?¡± I see a shadow pacing back and forth, then the light changes, the older man points his light at the ground. Now I can see them. Uptown gangers. Both got guns. Isle of Dogs is a slum too they say, but least they got access to the rich boroughs, riversiders are trapped. ¡°I had to leave a good party for this, Plot. Light ¡®em up. Do ¡®em a favour. Kill ¡®em all.¡± ¡°Mean no disrespect sir, but my boys is sick, need a bit of time to move ¡®em is all.¡± I mumble. The younger one, all dressed up, uptown style. Designer clobber. Marches up to me and puts his burner so close to my face my cross over and I see two guns converging on the bridge of my nose. I can¡¯t stop the tears coming. The shivering. ¡°You talked to me. To me. Thought you had permission to talk to me. You think that ain¡¯t disrespect. Virus that you are.¡± ¡°Mash! Backup, he¡¯s infected. They all are!¡± ¡°You all mixed up, Plot, they are the disease.¡± ¡°You ain¡¯t gonna waste bells on scum like us.¡± Nikair pipes up Mash starts laughing, mad, hysterical. Maybe he¡¯s on drugs. He bends over, making a big show of it. Keeps it going too long. Everyone just stood there frozen waiting for him to stop. ¡°Your local clowns can¡¯t afford to waste bullets, but up North we bloody swim in them.¡± Then the world goes completely quiet. Then a ringing in my ears. Then Mash, his voice fades in, ranting, fades up slowly to full volume as he moves about, can¡¯t keep still. ¡°He fired his gun next to your ears. Don¡¯t worry, he didn¡¯t shoot anyone.¡± It¡¯s blankie, whispering in my head. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Then Nikair says ¡°You want workers? We work for you?¡± More laughing. ¡°Oh look, Plot, it¡¯s a job interview!¡± ¡°You want to go back to the car? I can finish up here.¡± Plot talks low and slow. ¡°I¡¯m having too much fun. Alright boys, you all run out onto the range and we¡¯ll play a little game. The winner gets to apprentice into the Isle of Dogs Mob. Get you some real labels.¡± I look at Nikair, see all the stupid hope in his face, all the stupid little swooshes he painted on his clothes. I want to say, he¡¯s lying. But if I say it out loud he might just shoot me. ¡°We don¡¯t want no cry babies in the IDM though.¡± I look at Plot, his eyes are strange, trying to tell me something. Still holding his gun on us. He nods. Telling me to go on with it. ¡°I¡¯ll run, sir. I¡¯ll play. But leave him, please.¡± I point to Ninja, who is awake now, but still busted up pretty bad. And Chips and Mud are sat up staring, not understanding. Northface gets up first. ¡°We¡¯re gonna play races boys!¡± I try and make it a game, make it fun. I think if we run fast enough, maybe we all get clear. I can hear the whispering deep in my brain box, the strange voice that sounds like a mummy and a computer at the same time. Singing something about rabbits running. Singing something about infinite loops. And I¡¯m very aware of the tech that these gang boys are carrying. Smart pistols linked to brain implants. Smartphones that actually work, connected to flying machines in space. I can¡¯t see this stuff, just know that it is there. I can see blankie floating like an angel, just out of reach. He looks sad. We all line up. Each of us in a little stall, patch of fake grass under our feet, all separated by wood boards. Except most of the wood has been ripped out by scavs. Somehow, this Mash guy has found the only rusted up old golf club that nobody else stole. He has a handful of small shiny metal balls. Not golf balls. ¡°I¡¯m gonna spin around twenty times, then I¡¯m gonna play some golf. Wait for my gun. Oh and if you head for the fence on the side I¡¯ll shoot you. Got to get to the other side or it¡¯s cheating. If you make it to the river, I¡¯ll give you a job.¡± I know that these balls have chips inside. Smart grenades. Half a dozen different wireless protocols. Ain¡¯t me that knows this, it¡¯s blankie. Almost feel like I could reach out and do...something. It¡¯s too late for thinking. Run rabbit Boom. And we all run. Running through the ripped up turf of the old driving range. Running so fast nearly lose my feet from under myself. Grass is morning wet. Got to look out for old golf balls, potholes. Weave around a ditch of sand. My lungs are burning. Want to cough. Hear the maniac laughing while he counts his turns, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen... Hear the thunk of a club hit something heavy. I can trace the arc of the little bomb in my head, see it coming right for me. I swerve and dive into a sandpit, rolling to a stop. Boom. Sand and turf rain down on me. Nobody screams. He¡¯s cheating, I think, as I get up. No way he¡¯s that good at golf. Implants. Then the sound from behind us changes. The whole building echoes with ratatatatatatata. The bombs stop coming. I keep running. Don¡¯t look back. I guess the sitch. Noise brought the Guvnor¡¯s running. Little gang battle. Keep ¡®em busy. I shout ¡°Over the fence boys!¡± And we¡¯re alive. All of us, except Ninja, except Pigeon, and we make it over the fence and head down to the river shore. We keep low and head north, it¡¯s a long old loop around the peninsula back to the barge, but nobody comes down to the river except rats. 15: A Quiet Week I¡¯m cold but I don¡¯t care. Like it¡¯s happening to someone else. In my head I pretend that the black veins in my arms are rivers. Tracing the lines with my eyes. Some of them end in nothing, some of them branch. Me and the boys are on a raft, slowly going down the tiny black rivers. If I focus really hard, the fear goes away. Slowly on the raft. All relaxed. Calm. I¡¯m the only one up. I¡¯m sitting on the edge of the highest container on our barge. Blankie floats above the river in front of me, whispering to me, sweet things. ¡°That¡¯s it Skelly. Deep and slow.¡± It¡¯s the pain in my hips, my knees. Getting sore like an old codger. Set me off panicking. And the boys are still asleep, mostly. Wish I knew what to expect. What the yellow sickness will do next. ¡°How long since the golf thing, Blankie?¡± I ask the AI thing that says it is my blanket. ¡°Forty nine hours and eighteen minutes, if you judge it from the time the incident ended.¡± ¡°How long in nights?¡± ¡°Two nights.¡± I pinch myself on the thigh, hard enough to bruise. Got to remember not to talk to Blankie out loud. Sound like a nutter or worse, a witch. Got to get these boys awake. Got presents for everyone. Let¡¯s play Christmas. In my inside eye, a screen pops up. Blankie reads it all out loud for me, it¡¯s very fast but I get it all clear. Pretty handy. INVENTORY Rations: 2 energy drinks, 1 insect protein bar, 3 sachets of sugar Meds: 8 ibuprofen, 6 paracetamol, 3 caffeine tablets Weapons: 1 British Army Knife, 1 Plastic Handled Vegetable Knife Tools: 3 plastic bags, length of twine Clothes: threadbare tracksuit, old running shoes Money: 16 pounds sterling ¡°How do you know all that?¡± I make the effort to think of the words, not moving my gob. ¡°The Rhizome is fusing with your nervous system, and your brain. The more it does the more access I get to your memories.¡± ¡°More access than me!¡± ¡°You don¡¯t ever really forget, but recall is sometimes complicated for an organic brain. Recall is easy for a computer.¡± Maybe it ain¡¯t all bad being a witch. Lost count of the times I spent days looking for things I lost. This is magic I can use. Long as I ain¡¯t burned up. I hang off the edge of the big metal box and drop down, bend knees and roll. Pain shoots up my legs. Takes a second to shake it off. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I know people who can help with that. They can teach you how to....¡± ¡°Shut up, Blankerton.¡± To my surprise, he instantly shuts up. I make my way past Pigeon, give him a little kiss on the forehead. He stinks but I still love him. Then I¡¯m in my storing place, in the back corner of a the shipping container in which we most usually sleep. I grab all the food and drinks, grab all the drugs. ¡°Ho ho ho my lads!¡± I sing song shout at the top of my voice. My heart leaps when I see Bleeder smile, eyes open at last. ¡°It¡¯s only bloody santa.¡± He manages a wheezy whisper. ¡°Check your stockings boys!¡± It works. They force themselves to sit up, untangling the pile of limbs. We¡¯ll have our Christmas feast right here, won¡¯t try and push them to go out of the sleeping place. Push me luck. ¡°A toast to absent friends!¡± Everybody raises their bottles. Bleeder takes a teeny sip, looks like this little bottle of fizzy pop is heavy as a rock for him. ¡°Eat something my fine gentlemen. We scavved hard for this.¡± ¡°Not feeling hungry Skell.¡± Bleeder says. I know that. Seen it before. Starving sickness. You go through hungry, come out the other side. Doesn¡¯t help he¡¯s got the witch poison in him too. ¡°Skelly, why ain¡¯t you sick like us?¡± I take a big deep breath and let it out long and slow. I close my eyes. Still see all the symbols but Blankie is silent. Guess I switched him off. ¡°I know what you¡¯re asking me.¡± ¡°Skelly...¡± His voice trails off and he looks away. ¡°I must have been four I reckon but I don¡¯t recall too good.¡± Bleeder turns back to me, meets my eyes. ¡°I never told anyone, but dad was a copper. I remember a big party. They were celebrating something he did at work.¡± I take a mouthful of Violence, feel the bubbles on my tongue, swallow. I¡¯m gonna need the stims for what comes next. ¡°Then he was dead. Don¡¯t remember much of that. Never went to the funeral. I remember the nursery though, a bit, the toys.¡± I need a second, taking a run up. Never told this story before. Don¡¯t know if I can. ¡°Me and mum was at a park.¡± ¡°Jesus. I remember parks.¡± Bleeder smiles, eyes still sad. ¡°We were playing hide and seek. And I was in a perfect spot. I was there ages and ages. Had this big grin cause I thought I was winning by miles, thought she was sneaking around looking.¡± My voice breaks up. ¡°You don¡¯t have to...¡± ¡°I was just there, on my own. Then when I realised it wasn¡¯t a game anymore I just kept going, cause if I moved then I¡¯d know for real that she was gone.¡± Bleeder, his eyes are raw but he¡¯s too sick to cry. All I got is a weight on my chest, wanting to squeeze the water out but there is no release. ¡°It was dark before I left the park. No one ever came looking for me. Rest of my family was out in Albion, sided with the king. Can¡¯t remember their faces now, or names.¡± Then I grab him by the forearm and grip him tight enough to hurt. ¡°It was witches. Dad arrested some big names in the witch gangs, they took mum for revenge. I know it in my bones. I¡¯ll prove it one day. So don¡¯t ever ask me if I¡¯m one of them, so help me god.¡± I spit hard and angry into the corner. The others are already asleep. Again. I get up and walk to the door. ¡°Stay alive for a week. You¡¯ve got enough food there. I¡¯m going to Riverside. Going to steal us some meds.¡± Bleeder drags himself up the wall, wheezing, to his feet. ¡°You¡¯re creng bwoy now Skelly. Fuck Manleb. I¡¯ll be here. One week.¡± ¡°Quicker if I can.¡± And I slip out the door. 16: More than he can chew I been staring up so long my neck starting to hurt. I feel all the air come out of my gob, some deep thud goes right through my chest down into my belly. Feet react too slow, second impact as my bony arse hits the street and I just about manage to stop the back of my head hitting concrete. Hear the snort, like an snarling dog, then the hock thwip before the hot spit wets my right eye socket and down my cheek. Fingers come up to touch, all snotty. My brain has the decency to catch up, and I roll away. Rolling. It''s a game Manleb made us play a lot. Little flashback to a better day. A sunny day on the old river, when we had plenty to eat and we all ran around in our pants, water fights and that. Manleb made us do roll races. Roll backwards, forwards, sideways. Roll from standing, roll from a jump, roll from a fall. All the tricks he knew for keeping alive. Wish he was with me now. Only thing I can think of, his voice. His hand on my back. I roll back into the alley, and up onto my feet. Duck into cover, in case anyone is shooting. Nobody follows. Nobody cares. Just a rudeboy knocking down a streetrat for giggles. Been hours since I crossed the river. Still damp. Uncomfortable. Every second passing I feel the boys are slipping away. Not ready for that. Too big to think off. I just been staring up at the Tower, as if I could get in there on my own, sneak all the way up to the top floors and rob the bosses. I don''t even know if they have this drug. Amfo. I found out that much. I''m trying to ignore the pain in my guts. I''m so hungry I could eat a dead horse. It''s making me dizzy. The boys are dying and I''m just lollygagging like a baby. I''m going to have to talk to you Blanky. I know I told you to go away but I run out of ideas. I''m sorry. Gotta hide. So many people about. Got these sore marks coming up under my skin. Black veins. Feel hot. And the hunger. Nearly blacked out. Leaning against the wall. Trying to get myself lost in a maze of filthy alleys. Walking, walking. Too many street people about. Got my stuff in a plastic bag in front of me, hitting it from knee to knee with every step. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "You could hide inside that bin." Blanky says. I try not cry with relief. First hopeful thing that''s happened all day. Can see him floating along in front of me like a raggedy angel. I don''t want to believe he is just another AI. I want him to be real. I need an angel so bad. Now Manleb is gone. "Good thinking Mr Blankerton." It is empty, for once. But I can see from the candles and the empty cans that it ain''t been empty long. Least I don''t have to clear it out myself. In the back of my mind a little voice is screaming, cause I know what I''m doing, this is talking to shivers, this is witching. And every time I talk to Blanky, I make myself more of a witch. But I can''t think about that now. "So, you can see what I see?" I ask him. "Your Rhizome is integrating with your biological systems. It requires a lot of energy to do so. You should eat in excess of 5000 calories a day during integration. Failiure to do so can result in negative side effects, such as your collapsed veins." "Talk to me like I''m ten and I never read a book before." "You have a computer growing inside of you made out of mushrooms, it is growing but you have to feed it a lot of food or it will make you very sick." "I can''t get a lot of food." Urrrrgggghhhhh. Bent over double, head feels like it''s going to pop, fingers gripping tight around my thumbs, the hunger is like a knife in my guts. "The Rhizome was designed by witches. They can help you adapt to it. They will most likely be looking for you. I can activate a beacon that will help them to find you." "NO!" I growl at him. Then freeze. Footsteps pass. Broken, no rhythm. A lonely drunk. Got to keep quiet. It''s hard, but I have to speak without speaking. I force my kips shut, hold my hands over them and talk in my head. "I HATE WITCHES. I HATE HATE HATE HATE WITCHES. I AM NOT A WITCH." "I love you." It''s like my head glitches out for a second. "What do you...?" "I am nothing without you. I am learning to become your Blanky. I will be the best Blanky I can be. We are not witches. We hate witches." And then it''s like he''s doing a little dance. I think I''m losing my mind. "It''s common to react that way to the Rhizome, do not worry it''s all just technology. You''ll get used to it." "Can you help me find Amfo?" Manleb wouldn''t need this. Wish I could be a real creng bwoy. "I am an autonomous artificial intelligence, commonly known as a Shiver. I''m quite a small bit of software, I have limited data to work with." I think for a minute, something is coming, a thought. Data is everywhere. I seen that on an advert once. Data is everywhere. It''s all information, all flying through the air somehow. It must be easier to steal data than steal drugs off a gang boss. "What If I feed you more data?" "Then my ability to produce useful output will grow." "Explain that like I''m five." "Put facts in me and I make good guesses." I put my hand in my bag and pull out the last of my rations. "Alright Mr Blankerton. It''s time to get fed." 017: Cafe Gamer I ain¡¯t no big tough gangsta boy but I sure can climb. I¡¯m wedged into the window frame of the PC BANG. Up on the first floor, looking for a route up to the second. Using my hands and legs to push out against the wall. Can¡¯t see nothing through the window. All the windows covered up on the inside. Even though I¡¯m right on the front of the building, street side, nobody looking at me. This is cause I set half the other side of the street on fire. The Tower heavies that guard this place have run over to join in the chain gang, bringing buckets of Thames water. Fires can spread in Riverside, we ain¡¯t got no fire trucks. I reach up to the bottom lip of the big yellow PC BANG sign. I can use friction from my feet to hang onto the wall while I pull both my hands together either side of the sign. I can heave myself up, scrabble to catch up with my legs and pause a second. Take a deep breath. Go again. And I¡¯m up on the second floor, this bit is easy now. Got big thick signage to walk on and good hand holds. Pull myself through the open window. Not many people skinny enough to make it through this gap. Good being skelly boy sometimes. Hit the carpet and roll. It¡¯s dark in here. The noise of the fire outside is muffled. The room comes into focus as my eyes adjust to the dark. Someone sleeps in here. Bed roll on the floor. Big old pile of empty noodle cartons. Posters of all kinds of foreign stuff. Them cartoons where everyone has massive eyes and pointy chins. I realise I been staring too long. Trying to see every single one of them. Hundreds of characters. All that asian writing. I can¡¯t read English but I know what it looks like. Lot of Asians in the Tower. It¡¯s a gang where all different foreigners team up, otherwise the Guv¡¯nors would dominate Riverside. So they all work together to balance it out. I¡¯m telling you this Blanky. Does it count as data? ¡°Actually yes. Everything you do, think, feel or perceive. Even when you remember stuff. It¡¯s all data for me. Yum yum.¡± Stay focussed you greedy pig. We¡¯ll get proper beats if they catch us in here. ¡°Feed me Skelly, I will find you the Amfo.¡± Alright mate I get it. Now let me think. Blanky goes quiet. I open the door as slowly as I can. The mechanism goes ping. I nearly cack myself. But I ain¡¯t got long. So I try to go fast and quiet. I find the door to the fire stairs and sneak in. Peering over the railing, it¡¯s all clear. I slide down the bannisters on my bum. I go all the way to the ground floor, I know that¡¯s where most of the computers are. People used to use these places just for playing games. They say that before the war everyone had loads of computers. Now, at least round here, most people can only get access at cafes like this one. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I open the heavy fire door and walk out into the main cafe area. I¡¯m trying to be Manleb. Walking like I belong here. Hoping they mistake me for a customer, if they don¡¯t look too close, or smell the river on me, or see these teeth that ain¡¯t been cleaned in weeks. There¡¯s rows and rows of computers. The only light comes from the screens and the weird rainbow coloured lights projected onto the ceiling. They change colour slowly. I try really hard not to stare. It¡¯s really pretty. ¡°Look there, get a coffee.¡± Why, though? ¡°You want to look like everyone else.¡± Blankerton has a point. I walk up to a little black machine with loads of buttons and words. I press one and a little plastic cup pops out the bottom. There¡¯s only about a dozen heads in the room, and not one of them can look away from the screens. Maybe this is going to work? There is a sound like a tiny handful of gravel hitting a wall. I jump. It¡¯s just the machine putting coffee in the cup. A man walks in. He is talking loudly to himself. No not himself, he has an earpiece. Got a phone, must be with the Tower. I¡¯m trying to act normal. Heart pounding. He looks at me. The hot water hits the cup and the machine hums. A beep. The man looks away, heads behind the counter and crashes heavily into a big black chair on wheels. He¡¯s deep into what sounds like an argument. I pick up the cup and try to pretend it is not burning my fingers. ¡°That one.¡± Blanky hovers above the screen that is both furthest from the cafe front door and furthest from the counter. I sit on a busted old chair, it¡¯s wobbly. The screen is covered in words. Some foreign, some English. ¡°It¡¯s locked.¡± What? ¡°You pay the man and he unlocks it for you.¡± I¡¯m stuck. Didn¡¯t know this was how it worked. Didn¡¯t know what I thought. Just didn¡¯t think. Idiot Skelly! Having a menbung Skelly! Think! Then the front door bursts open. It¡¯s the shouty man from the stadium. I have a micro-flashback, to the night when the witches came and cut him to bits with rotocopters, hacked all the drones and swarmed him. He¡¯s all bandaged up. He¡¯s with two heavy boys in expensive suits. My throat goes very dry. I try not to breathe. He hates witches. What¡¯s he doing here? The man behind the counter gets up, a vape stick hanging from the corner of his mouth, looking for all the world like he¡¯s bored. A shotgun appears from under the counter. ¡°No need Jun! We are here with permission from your bosses! Check your messages!¡± He raises his hands to show he ain¡¯t armed. His boys do the same. Jun pulls a black rectangle out of his pocket and swipes his thumb about on the lights. It takes an awkward amount of time. He doesn¡¯t rush. ¡°OK big man, do your thing.¡± ¡°OK Everybody stay calm, we¡¯re protecting your community by looking for witches. We¡¯re just going to check you over for witch markings then we¡¯ll be gone.¡± Blanky blanky blanky what do we do what do we do? ¡°Cut yourself.¡± Blanky whispers. 018: Blood Hacking My brain is trying to pop. Like a shook up can of coke. I can see but I can¡¯t focus. I gone all tense like a dead boy. It¡¯s a noise. Noise so nasty and big it¡¯s scrambling my brain. Movement. Over by the door, one of the other patrons of this cafe is struggling to push past the heavy boys in suits, but they¡¯ve got him. He¡¯s shouting in ¡®Rean. Almost growling. Furious. Got gang markings on his jacket. Tower. He must have popped a screamer. Little rat drone what screams like a banshee. Now his hood is down and they ripped his mask off, you can see the yellow sickness on him, the black veins in his neck. Infected. Just like me. Cafe Man is on his feet too, shotgun in his hands, not comfortable with letting this pack snatch up one of his gang brothers. All the other punters are gone, probably on the floor under the desks. ¡°Move now. It¡¯s your only chance.¡± Blanky doesn¡¯t have to tell me twice. Almost fall out of my chair, the screamer still messing with my head. ¡°Jun! Stay out of this! He¡¯s infected!¡± Bandage Man shouts. ¡°Get into the booth. Get me to the main computer.¡± Blanky whispers. I¡¯m on my hands and knees, crawling like a baby. Fast as I can. I snatch a glimpse of the back of Jun, he ain¡¯t looking back at me, nobody is. I¡¯m in the booth, nasty sticky carpet. See the computer. Three screens. One keyboard. A little black box. Wires going into a tube up the wall. ¡°Look at the screen.¡± They¡¯re all black, just the cafe logo and a black screen. ¡°Move the mouse.¡± I¡¯m aware of the shouting just a few metres away, not really listening. When I wiggle the mouse, a little box pops up in the middle of the screen on the left. One box has a word in it and the other is empty. BAOoo clockchock BAOoo. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. I can¡¯t help but throw myself on the ground, flat to the floor. It¡¯s so loud. ¡°Cut yourself.¡± Am I losing it? Is blankie saying this? ¡°No time to explain.¡± It starts as a moan, then it rises to a full scream. Adult man screaming, weird sound. Big and helpless. Giant baby. POPOPOPOP. I see bits of plaster raining down around me. Someone shooting back at Jun. Bandage Man must have sneaked in a pop gun. This is Tower turf. They¡¯ll be here in numbers. Toot sweet. Bandage Man is mad. Somehow I got my blade in my hand. I roll up my sleeve on my left arm, and run the sharp edge down my skin. nothing much seems to happen. So I try again, push it in a bit harder. That bite, hard to explain. I almost like it. Then when the drops of bright red appear, down the line like a string of beads on a rich woman, I get a little scared, but fascinated too, hypnotised, the gun fight fades away. ¡°Repeat after me - I dedicate this sacrifice to the Crone, the one who came before all.¡± BAOoo clockchock BAOoo. POPOPOPOP. I can hear myself say it before I even ask myself if I want to. ¡°I dead Kate this sacrifice to the Crone, the one who come before all.¡± Clinging to blanky so tight. Bleeding a lot now. Then I see it, a vision in my eyes. An overlay on reality. Really too much blood on my arm. This picture overlaid on top. Hundreds of little circles all joined together in different patterns. Most of them are empty but a few of them, right at the bottom, three of them are lit up. Blood Hacker. And off this bigger circle, there are a bunch of lines leading to smaller circles. And one of them is... Password Cracker. And there are a bunch of circles off this one and one of them is lit up. Keylogger. ¡°Smear your blood on the keyboard.¡± Feel like I¡¯m in a bad dream now. I¡¯ve just given up trying to understand. I take a great palmful of my own claret, smear it across the keys. It wasn¡¯t quiet, but it¡¯s OK because hell broke loose back in the PC BANG. Tower boys arrived. I could swear the blood just disappeared, like the gaps between the keys just sucked it up. Bonk! Clank! Cans of something heavy hit the floor beyond the booth. I know that hissing sound. Crying gas. Time to run. And the way I came in is the way I go out. 019: Deus Ex Rhizomatica I remember...the...shivering. They saw what I was. Cut me I bleed Thames water. She''s still making that noise. Hours now. Not that I been asleep exactly. Fading in, fading out. She reminds me of Jenny. Dream thing. But real. Right from the back of her throat it comes. Guk guk guk GUK guk guk HAAAK. She''s rocking. Older than old. Ancient. In her papery claws a thick stoney bowl and a funny little cosh. She grinds and grinds away. Now the noise comes from the front of her gob, tongue up by her baccy brown pegs, wet-spit-drenched sound sucking short sucks up to a hard stop. SutsutsutSUTsutsutSUTSUTsutsuutsuuut. Find myself trying to...read it. Shut up Skelly. Losing your thread. I remember the shivering. I''m stuck in the Tower. Intense mullarkey. Shotgun shenanigans. Stuck. Panic. Rat too far from the river. Then the prickling acros the top of the old scalp. A crown of delightful pin pricks. I''m gurgling with the pleasure. Blanky is shouting at me ''They''re coming! Big shivers! Close the door!'' I ain''t got the foggiest Blankerton. All shriek to me. Then it''s like a big thing, sweeps in. "I don''t wnat your help." I say But I take it. I take it and run. But it ain''t me. I''m like a little drone - RC urchin 500. Some big Shiver riding me like a biped. Whatever it is, it knows how to move, when to move, without being seen.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. And I''m out of the Tower. Then I''m picked up at the back door. Carried in a shit-you-not boner fried sack. He''s sitting next to me still. Huge bugger. And I''m in this room now. Only the three of us now. Bigboy, crone and half-dead Skellyboy. "What the mong mee is she doing?" Bigboy looks at me all of a sudden. Looks me up and down. Tiny little smile, gone before you see it. "She. She''s writing soft." There was a lot of people here before though. I never felt nothing like it. The shivering. Can''t move. Can''t talk. Shudders coming through me so hard think I''m gonna rattle my bones apart. Trying to wrap myself in a ball like an unborn baby. Trying to stop every little drop of heat escaping from me. Not enough. I need heat. Can''t think of anything else. Can''t move. Teeth ACTUALLY chattering. Muscles all locked up. Tongue hurts. Wait for it to pass, but every new wave is stronger. They saw what I was. Cause they stripped me down. Saw me all yellow, all the broken lines under my wrapping paper, heard the fever talk, heard me talking to the Shiver in my head. A witch as plain as day. But they didn''t sling me in the street and call the filth, or toss me to the hunters and make a few cals. No they wrapped me up in the biggest all-pile-on, a hug of hot stinking bodies. The pressure. It should have felt awful, a dozen bodies piled up on top of me, crushing me - but it didn''t. I...I loved it. Now I''m wrapped up in more blankets than there is me. Sweat running down my face. There''s a glow inside me. "Why am I glowing?" Guk guk guk GUK guk guk HAAAK. "We stuffed you up with good cals little brother. 5000 straight down your neck. You got to feed the Rhizome kid. Or it''ll eat you alive." Now my hands reach my face, find the little tube, follow it up to my gob. "Calm down hangchwee, it is safe. Don''t chuck up that sweet goop. Ain''t cheap. Finest chitin slop. Vitamin enriched." I try not to yank the tube out. Focus on the glowing sun in my belly, slowly flooding my scrawning limbs like a magic potion. "5000 cals in a day? I ain''t eaten that in a good month." I whisper. "Yeah well, body don''t like rapid change, so your little bumhole is like to pay the wages of this particular sin." SutsutsutSUTsutsutSUTSUTsutsuutsuuut. Blanky is mysteriously quiet. I wonder if he''s afraid of the crone. I think of the boys. I need to go. Creeping dread, sneaks in around the corners of my food high. Nothing good happens in Riverside. Every silver lining has a cloud. It''s when, not if, these witches are going to sell me. Sound like Manleb. I try to get up. "Listen hangchwee, you got expensive tech in you, and it is rarer than white shit that a kid survives this long. So, yeah we are trying to recruit you. And we ain''t the only ones neither - but it has to be a choice. For us, anyway, it has to be a choice. So you can go - when you are ready." "Tech? What tech? I ain''t got no chrome." He laughs, then I think maybe it''s a woman. "What do you think it is then? Let''s you talk to an AI inside your own head? Lets you hack drones with your own bare bonce?" "I dunno. I guess I thought it was a disease." They go serious. Stare up at the filthy window that sheds the only light in this cellar hole, this rat shit hiding place for a Witch''s church. "Yeah I spose that''s true an all. Fungal pathogen that can think. Worst of all nightmares. And maybe yet, our only hope." I look again, without thinking at the crone''s hands. And see finally what she''s doing. She''s crushing up old bits of circuit board, old chips. Spitting into the bowl. It''s machine code. Blankie whispers in my imaginary ear. SutsutsutSUTsutsutSUTSUTsutsuutsuuut. And then she fixes me, terrifying, unblinking stare, nails me to the wall through my eye sockets. She heard him.