《Kaminoa》 Chapter 1 I wait in line like everyone else at the housing office, fumbling with my phone and trying to refresh my score. I¡¯ve been working hard to lower my number, but it hasn¡¯t budged. Even with the approved overtime requests at work and the endless hours of working the graveyard shift, I can''t seem to get my number down. Before my latest refresh, I was sitting at a comfortable fifty-five, but I need at least a forty-five to get my wife out of our crap apartment and into a better part of the city. With Vivian expecting our daughter soon, I know I need to work harder than ever. The line is barely crawling, and everyone is on their phones. A few people are in the middle of a phone call despite the sign that warns that we won¡¯t be served at the desk if we¡¯re talking on the phone. Pulling down on the holographic screen again, I release my finger and wait. The circular animation above my name on the screen continues to swirl. From the groans of the others waiting in the lobby, I can tell they¡¯re experiencing the same issue. My phone beeps and displays my score. 73.2 ¡°Shit. No, no, no,¡± I say, pulling my finger down and trying to refresh it again, that couldn¡¯t be right. There was no way my score had increased that much. At that number, I was in danger of losing the apartment and would have to move into one of the project housing plants made for people with a score above seventy-five. There is no way this is happening. Seventy-five is unthinkable, and one hundred is death. I curse at my phone and look to one of the large TV screens in the lobby. There is an attractive news anchor in a short, blue dress. The headline reads: ¡®Big Five suffer Depression: Citizens to pay?¡¯ ¡°Recent shortages and decreasing revenues across the board have resulted in increasing prices and lowered wages. The Big Five expect to mitigate the issue by adjusting payments and prices to offset decreasing demand, but it¡¯s going to be a rough patch for the city of Kaminoa.¡± I continue to stare at the TV. The others waiting in the office are doing the same, and the line comes to a grinding halt. A man enters the screen, and his title flickers in the overlay. He''s a representative of McGuire Mercantile, one of the Big Five. ¡®Thanks for having me, Tiffany,¡± he says, shaking the woman¡¯s hand. ¡°Citizens are already reporting steep increases in personal scores that are rising by the minute. Do you have any plans to increase the Threshold to prevent these artificial adjustments and instability?¡± ¡°At this time, we¡¯re not changing the Threshold, but will adjust it as needed if too many civilians are culled. The last thing we want is instability, and we¡¯re doing everything in our power in cooperation with the other mega corporations to bring the Kaminoa back into a period of stability and economic growth. If citizens find themselves sitting above a one hundred, they should speak to their local creditor and seek help if possible. At this time, the cullings will be taking place at the end of each week with standard operating procedures and the standard Threshold of one hundred.¡± The screen fades out, and the network jumps to another story, but my heart is already pounding in my chest. My phone beeps again, and my score comes back. 75.8 A woman standing in front of me sinks to her knees, her score, well above one hundred, flickering in red. Quickly, I lift my phone and hold it up to the digital board that hangs above the front desks of the office. It takes a second, but the updated rate comes through with my augmented reality app. My rent will cost twenty-five points for the month now, which would put my score above one hundred. I''m glad I didn''t prepay this month. Even with our joint dependencies and the corporate retirement accounts Vivian and I have setup, we still wouldn''t be able to cover rent this month. I''ve never missed a payment, and while our landlord is shady, he''ll give me a week or two extra to pay up. Still, I''m a bit shaking up. Vivian and I have never had a problem paying for our lease before, and before the economy started going sour, we were actually close to moving into a better neighborhood in Kaminoa.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. People are starting to yell in the lobby, complaining to the housing clerks and leaving the building in panicked drones. I raise my phone to my ear and dial Vivian, accepting the 0.0005 point charge to make the call. ¡°Reports are showing a staggering thirty-five percent of the population approaching or at the Threshold now. The Big Five have yet to respond to the issue. In other news, networks are bogged down, and citizens may not get an accurate score update until more servers can be dedicated to the Corporate Mainframe to mitigate the increased network load.¡± I block out the news anchor as I connect with Vivian. ¡°Honey?¡± I ask. ¡°Michael, come home, we need to figure out what¡¯s going on, I--I¡¯m at an eighty-three now, and I¡¯m scared.¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, honey, they¡¯re not going to cull everyone; I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just a glitch. Significant population reductions aren¡¯t going to fix the economy, and it¡¯s not in the Big Five¡¯s interest to get rid of a lot of good employees. We¡¯re going to be fine, and we¡¯re not going to lose the apartment. They¡¯ll fix this mess.¡± ¡°Can you come home? I need you here,¡± she says to me, her voice shaking. ¡°I¡¯m on my way. Do we have enough food and water?¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ve got at least a week¡¯s worth. Did you pay the rent?¡± ¡°No, the rates are too high,¡± I say, grimacing as my phone beeps again to display my updated score. 82.6 ¡°I¡¯ll take out an extension, and we¡¯ll pay it once everything settles. I don¡¯t want to risk our scores any more than we need to in all this craziness. I¡¯m on my way home,¡± I say, ending the phone call to preserve my increasing score. As I walk onto the streets, I see people are running around, carrying bags of groceries and looking panicked. The Corporate Police on the streets are cradling heavy rifles and seem to be a lot more prevalent. I knew the depression was hitting the city hard, but it seemed impossible that something like this could happen in a matter of hours. ¡°Watch it, asshole!¡± a man yells at me, jumping back to keep from spilling his groceries. I wave and apologize before flagging down a cab. The driver pulls it up to the curb, and I scan the side with my phone. One point per mile. ¡°Are you seriously charging one point a mile?¡± I yell, anger boiling up at the outrageous fee. ¡°Sorry, pal, I¡¯ve got a family too, and my company is feeling the heat just like everyone else.¡± My apartment is sixteen blocks away, so I decide to run instead. Behind me, I see someone jump into the cab I had just declined. I start running as fast as possible, dodging to the right and left to avoid the anxious-looking people that are constantly refreshing their phones. I jam my phone in my pocket, ignoring the beeping as my score continues to climb. I need to get home to Vivian, and checking my score isn¡¯t going to do any good. I¡¯ve got some savings cards stashed at the apartment, and we¡¯ll use them to lower our scores if needed. I¡¯m trying to fight the panic that¡¯s growing inside, to believe that the Big Five are going to fix this mess, but it¡¯s hard with the fear I see on the streets. People are starting to act irrationally. I¡¯m starting to act irrationally. As I¡¯m running, I catch a snippet of audio from a news broadcast. ¡°Reports are now showing forty-two percent of the city¡¯s population at or in danger of reaching the Threshold. We¡¯re expecting--¡± I¡¯m panting for breath now, wheezing in the frosty evening air, but I¡¯m getting close to my apartment. The street lights crackle to life, and I check my phone¡¯s display. It¡¯s six PM, and my phone lost connection with the network. I tap it on the side a few times as I run, but I¡¯m not getting anything. I clear the last couple of blocks and climb the stairs up to my apartment. I press my phone on the console by my door, and the light clicks green. As I enter, I see Vivian. Her long, dark hair is hanging down, and she¡¯s holding her face in her hands, crying. The lights are out inside the apartment, but I can see the red glow of her phone on the metal counter. Her phone displays 116.9. Chapter 2 ¡°Honey, look,¡± I say, pulling down the old jar stuffed with score chips. ¡°We¡¯ve got two hundred points saved up, and we¡¯re not in any danger. We just need to wait to use them when we¡¯re sure our scores are locked in place. Let¡¯s just watch the news and lay low for a few days,¡± I say. ¡°Are you working tomorrow?¡± Vivian asks between sobs. ¡°I need to call my boss; I¡¯m not sure yet.¡± It¡¯s a good question, and I¡¯m not sure how all of this will affect Rogers Shipping, a Precinct Corporation. I push a button on my phone, and the TV in our apartment flickers to life. The same man from before, the representative from McGuire Mercantile walks on screen, wearing the same expensive suit and wearing the same fake smile. ¡°Tiffany, at McGuire Mercantile, we¡¯re devoted to providing the best living experience possible for all of our citizens. We¡¯re investigating a bug in the Corporate Mainframe right now that might be inflating citizen scores above what we¡¯d like to see. While we aren¡¯t changing the Threshold, we are delaying the weekly cullings until we¡¯re sure everything is as it¡¯s supposed to be. User scores that appear high may be brought back down once we¡¯ve completed our investigation, but we¡¯d like to remind everyone that they won¡¯t be reimbursed for any purchases.¡± I let out a sigh of relief. ¡°You hear that, Vivian? We¡¯re going to be fine, it¡¯s a bug,¡± I say. ¡°A possible bug,¡± she corrected, still teary-eyed. ¡°The Corporate Police are reporting that most of its officers assigned to the east side have scores above one hundred now. Would you consider culling the Police responsible for carrying out the cullings themselves?¡± Tiffany asks. ¡°As part of the Big Five, McGuire Mercantile works hard to offer competitive rates and lobby for better benefits for our law enforcement. We¡¯d like to take a moment to remind you, and the viewers, that everyone in the country is subject to the same culling laws, even you and I, Tiffany. While we don¡¯t want to see our officers exceed the Threshold, they¡¯re not exempt from the law. That being said, McGuire Mercantile is working hard to boost the benefits for our law enforcement officers in this dark hour,¡± he says. ¡°How are they going to cull people if they don¡¯t have officers to do it?¡± Vivian asks me. ¡°They¡¯re not culling anyone until this is worked out,¡± I say, trying to focus on the TV. ¡°We¡¯re increasing law enforcement presence on the streets and want to remind everyone that crime will not be tolerated and will be subjected to harsh point penalties as usual. If a crime penalty would push a citizen above a score of two hundred, they¡¯ll be killed on the spot. As a reminder, we encourage you to work with your employers to do business as usual and stay in the city. Transfers to other cities will be subject to a 25% score conversion fee, so moving will only make things worse,¡± the man says. ¡°Like we could move cities anyway,¡± I say, grabbing Vivian¡¯s hand. She''s still crying, and I need to distract her. "How about I cook us up a nice dinner and we can settle down for the evening, maybe watch a movie,¡± I offer. ¡°What would you make?¡± she asks. I raise my finger and walk over to the pantry. ¡°How does spicy-peanut street noodles sound?¡± I call over my shoulder. ¡°Perfect." I grab the ingredients from the pantry, placing them on the counter and taking out the heavy pot from one of the cabinets below. It had taken a long timefor Lon to give me his street noodle recipe, but after years of patronage to his noodle cart, he had finally given in, making me promise to still come see him from time to time. I fill the pot with water and grab a smaller pan from below, adding the oil and peanut butter and stirring in some powdered garlic. The aromas begin to flood the apartment as the oil and peanut butter mix with the garlic and red pepper flakes. I stir in Lon¡¯s proprietary blend of spices and add the noodles to the now boiling water. ¡°Smells good, Mike,¡± Vivian says, still fixated on the TV. ¡°Any updates?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s just the same stuff, no one knows what¡¯s going on,¡± she says. ¡°Have you talked with any of the neighbors?¡± I ask as I turn the burners down. ¡°No, I was too scared,¡± she says. ¡°I know I would technically have a week from when I exceeded the Threshold, but I was paralyzed with fear,¡± she says, leaning back on the couch. ¡°Can you pour me a glass of wine?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± I say, pulling down a glass and uncorking a bottle of cheap red. I fill her glass and walk over to her. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.As I¡¯m walking away, she grabs my arm and pulls me into a kiss. ¡°I love you, Mike. Thanks for taking care of me,¡± she says, managing a smile. I smile back and return to the stove, the noodles are almost done, and my stomach is growling now. It smells delicious, and I¡¯m always impressed with the versatility and cost-effective nature of Lon¡¯s recipe. I finish cooking and cut the power to the burners, pulling the pot off the heat and scooping the noodles into two bowls. I pour a glass of wine for myself and walk over to Vivian, topping off her glass and bringing the noodle bowls over before sitting on the couch next to her. She scoots over to sit closer to me, and I give her a smile, trying to focus on her rather than the news of uncertainty that continues to play in the background. ¡°What movie do you feel like watching?¡± I ask. Just as I say it, the screen flashes and the ¡®breaking news¡¯ tag appears in bold font. ¡°We¡¯re receiving a live update from 4th street in Central. A mob has formed to protest prices, increasing personal scores, and lack of corporate transparency,¡± Tiffany says. The representative from McGuire Mercantile raises his phone to his ear, walking off screen. Tiffany tries to stop him, but he¡¯s already off the set, refusing to comment. ¡°Can we turn this off?¡± Vivian asks. ¡°Hold on; we need to see what¡¯s going on,¡± I say. A camera from Drone 2 displays on the screen and the camera pans to the scene. Hundreds of people are swarming in front of the Central Corporate Government building, waving signs and makeshift weapons in the air. ¡°Corporate Police are deploying tear gas, and are wearing full riot gear. They¡¯ve set up a penalty boundary in front of the building that will increase personal scores if crossed. They haven¡¯t announced the penalty, but the tear gas seems to be leaking from the front into the crowd,¡± Tiffany says. ¡°Mike, please,¡± Vivian says, tearing up again. ¡°Vivian, we need to see this,¡± I say, trying to focus on the screen and not get frustrated with Vivian. I turn back to the TV; someone is exiting the building, holding their coat over their head and wearing a gas mask. Police are huddled close to the man, walking him toward his car that¡¯s waiting on the curb about thirty feet away. Someone in the crowd throws something, a rock, a piece of concrete? I can¡¯t tell. The projectile sails through the air and hits the man on the head, he drops to the floor, raising his hands to protect himself from the attackers. More things start flying through the air, and the Police start shooting tear gas canisters into the swarming crowd. Someone in the crowd jumps over the barricades, swinging a metal baseball bat in a wide arc. The bat connects with one of the Police in riot gear and causes him to stagger back. The light on the barricade flashes, penalizing the man that jumped it. I watch with horror as one of the Corporate Police moves forward, blasting the man in a chest with a shotgun. From the visceral explosion of red mist, there¡¯s no question of the lethality of the weapon. Vivian screams and recoils on the couch. ¡°Mike, turn it off!¡± she shrieks. ¡°Look away,¡± I yell, grabbing the remote before she can turn it off. I need to see this. No one else charges over the barricades, and the crowd starts to lose coherence, falling apart as the clouds of gas expand. The camera zooms in on the body laying on the ground. Blood is pooling around it, and the Corporate Police move in to cover it, still pointing weapons into the disbanding crowd. One of them points at the news drone, and another shoots it down, the camera shot splintering with cracks and blurring before it goes black. Vivian is crying again, and I turn off the TV, pulling out my phone and setting Corey¡¯s RSS retrieval app to pull news articles and deliver it to my phone, so I can stay up to date without disturbing Vivian. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, honey,¡± I say. My phone buzzes. ¡®Mandatory curfew enabled from 11PM-5AM. Violators will be penalized. All work from employees that commute within that timeframe has been suspended. Workers are encouraged to work with their supervisors to see if corporate housing is a good option for them.¡¯ I turn on a movie, it¡¯s one we¡¯ve already seen, but Vivian enjoys the distraction. I can¡¯t help but worry about everything, and I know Vivian is scared too. There¡¯s nothing we can do right now, and I¡¯d rather not go out until everything settles down. Without the overtime I was hoping to get by working the graveyard shifts, we¡¯re not going to be well off. Moving into corporate housing isn¡¯t an option, especially with Vivian pregnant and expecting our daughter in the next two months. I wrap my arm around Vivian, pulling her in and kissing her cheek. ¡°I love you,¡± I whisper. She kisses me back then rests her head on my shoulder. My phone buzzes again, it¡¯s a text from my friend Corey. ¡®Mike, I think I found a way for us to get out of this mess. Still researching, and it needs to be a last resort for us. Message me when you read this, and we can meet up. Delete message once you¡¯ve read.¡¯ Chapter 3 Texting is free, calls aren¡¯t. With a score that won¡¯t update, I don¡¯t want to pay for the call, so I decide to text Corey back. ¡®What do you mean you found a way out?¡¯ My phone buzzes a second later. ¡®We can meet up and talk about it later. This is bad, things aren¡¯t going to get better. Go to the store and get all the food you can. Fill your bathtub and sinks with water.¡¯ ¡®How do you know?¡¯ I respond. ¡®Can¡¯t talk about it, just do it and I¡¯ll be in touch. Trust me, bud. You want to be prepared for the long haul with this one. The Big Five might not be cracking down yet, but they will, and a lot of people are going to die.¡¯ I shake my head, he¡¯s talking nonsense. ¡®Look, from an economic standpoint, they can¡¯t afford for a lot of people to die, this is all a mistake,¡¯ I type, sending the message and returning my phone to my pocket. ¡®Not mistake--intentional. Talk later. Get food, fill sinks and tub with water. Not joke,¡¯ Corey responds. I¡¯m used to long paragraphs and proper grammar from him, his brevity is frightening. How could he know what¡¯s going on when the Big Five didn¡¯t? At least they¡¯re making it appear that they don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. I shake the thought out of my head. ¡°Vivian, I¡¯m going out to buy some food. Fill the sinks and bathtub with water,¡± I say. ¡°Mike? What¡¯s wrong? Who texted you?¡± she asks frantically. ¡°Corey, he thinks things are going to get worse, and I just want to be cautious. I¡¯m not going to spend any of my score, just going to use up the last of our vouchers. Stay here and I¡¯ll be back in fifteen,¡± I say. ¡°Okay, please be careful,¡± she says, clearly worried. ¡°I will, baby, I love you,¡± I say, giving her a smile and pulling my coat off the rack by the door. I see our neighbors, the Cowans walking into their apartment across the hall and I wave, but they just frown and rush inside, shutting the door behind them. I rush down the large flight of stairs and when I exit on the street, it¡¯s already getting dark. I pull my hood over my head, there¡¯s freezing rain and I don¡¯t want to be caught outside for too long. I walk toward the store on Sycamore, avoiding eye contact with the people walking on the street. Everyone seems to be acting weird, the score increases weighing heavily on everyone¡¯s minds. I approach the store and see there are extra security personnel working, holding their shock batons at the ready and monitoring the gates of the store. Someone in front of me walks into the store and the lights flash red. The man raises his hands, yelling and saying that it¡¯s not his fault that his score is so high. The security guards shrug and push him back. ¡°Please, I need food for my family, I can pay!¡± the man shouts, moving forward again.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. One of the guards whacks him with his shock baton, hitting the man in the gut and causing him to sink to his knees in the grimy slush that¡¯s formed on the concrete outside the store. ¡°You can¡¯t pay, so beat it or we''ll beat you!¡± The man looks like he¡¯s going to try again, but stands and staggers back, running away from the store and back into the freezing rain. I approach cautiously, pulling my phone from my pocket and trying to update my score but it still won¡¯t load. Freezing droplets of rain blot the transparent holo screen and I wipe them away with the sleeve of my jacket, pulling my arms in closer to warm me while the rain continues to fall.¡°Hey, I can¡¯t update my score, but I¡¯ll leave if it flags me red, so don¡¯t hit me, okay?¡± ¡°We won¡¯t hit you as long as you aren¡¯t an asshole,¡± one of the guards says, lowering his baton and waving me forward. The other guard chimes in. ¡°Look, we¡¯ve been working all day, and our replacements can¡¯t get here cause the curfew. As long as you don¡¯t cause trouble and you¡¯re green, then we won¡¯t have any problems, buddy.¡± I nod and walk forward slowly, moving out of the rain and into the store. The gates flash green and I¡¯m cleared to go inside. ¡°What¡¯s my score?¡± I ask them. ¡°We can¡¯t see it, pal. Just go in and shop, we¡¯ve got work to do,¡± one of the guards says. I nod and walk inside the store, not wanting to irritate them. Grabbing a basket, I load it up with cheap canned foods that are packed with calories. If this problem is going to take a lot of time to resolve, I want to be prepared. With Vivian pregnant, she needs to eat at least two thousand calories a day. I can afford to lose a few pounds, but with the canned food I¡¯m buying and what we have at the house, I think we¡¯ll be fine for closer to a month. Surely everything will be resolved by then. I go to the cashier and spend all my remaining vouchers, not wanting to touch my unknown score. ¡°Can you see your score?¡± I ask the teenager. He pulls out his phone and nods, clearly not happy with the number. ¡°My phone¡¯s having some network issues or something,¡± I say, giving him a nervous smile and taking my bags. I check my phone as I return to the street, carrying my bags and rushing through the rain. It¡¯s already 10:38 PM, and I don¡¯t want to be on the streets when the curfew starts. People will be defiant, and the Corporate Police might be ruthless tonight to prove they aren¡¯t messing around. I need to text my boss to find out when I can work, I need a score stipend, and without the graveyard shifts, Vivian and I aren¡¯t in a good place financially. My score is still displayed as the swirling circle animation. Damn thing. The sleet is starting to pierce my jacket now, and I start jogging, careful not to slip on the mush that¡¯s accumulating on the street. I finish the jog to my apartment building and enter the stairwell. I hear yelling coming from upstairs, but I can¡¯t quite make out the voices. There¡¯s a man, a woman, and another man yelling, but the words are distorted by the echo of the stairwell. I run up to try to see what¡¯s going on. The words are coming more clearly now. ¡°Your vouchers and score chips, hand them over or die.¡± ¡°We need them to survive, come on,¡± a man says, I keep climbing, moving slower now. ¡°If you shut that door, I¡¯m going to kick it down and kill you,¡± the other man says. I look through the narrow window on the main door on the sixth floor. They¡¯re on the floor below mine, and it looks like this goon is going door to door stealing everyone¡¯s savings at gunpoint. I pull my phone from my pocket and try to call the Corporate Police, but I don¡¯t have a signal. I curse, but raise my phone to take a picture of the man. I forget the flash is on, and he whips his head to face me as the phone goes off. I cast a quick glance at my screen, it¡¯s a perfect image of his face. The man yells and starts running toward me. I curse and start up the stairs, sprinting as fast as I can and gasping for breath as my heart pounds in my chest. Chapter 4 I¡¯m dashing up the stairs, taking them two at a time and holding my bags, knowing we might need them. I pass my floor and burst through the door of the eighth floor, running as fast as I can and not looking back. I hear the door close behind me then burst open, swinging on its hinges and slamming into the wall. ¡°Stop!¡± the man yelled. I didn¡¯t. I rounded the corner in the hall, not looking back, just trying to put distance between me and the invader. I had gotten a good look at him, but I hadn¡¯t recognized him. I don¡¯t think he is from my building. There is more yelling, getting louder behind me. A sharp crack reverberates through the hall, impossibly loud. I rush through the door to the stairwell at the other end of the hall and run, returning to my floor and rushing into my apartment, out of breath and sweating profusely. My heart is racing in my chest, and I drop my bags on the counter when I shut the door behind me. Vivian is up from the couch now, trying to read my face, and I tell her to give me her phone and lock herself in the bathroom. I take her phone and check for a signal, there isn¡¯t one. Moving to our bedroom, I reach down under the bed and pull the small black case out. I unlock it on the bed and pull out the matte black handgun, sliding a magazine in the weapon and pulling the slide. It¡¯s a nine millimeter, and it will do the job. With shaking hands, I flip off the safety and return to the living room, standing in front of the door in my apartment and waiting for any sounds. There¡¯s another gunshot from somewhere in the building followed by uncomfortable silence. I stand silently, listening and trying to control my breathing. I send a text message to the Corporate Police, sending them my address and a brief account of what¡¯s going on. The gun is shaking in my hand, but I keep my finger off the trigger like I was trained to do in my lessons from corporate. Since I had initially signed on as a courier at Rogers Shipping, I was required to carry the weapon on my belt in addition to training to operate the security drones that rode on the side of the vans we drove. When I had been promoted to a desk position working logistics, they hadn¡¯t asked for the gun back. The blue logo of Rogers Shipping is etched on the side of the gun in anodized titanium. ¡®We¡¯re sorry, due to increased volume of messages and regularly scheduled outage of the phone networks due to the mandatory curfew in place, we¡¯re unable to respond to your query at this time. Our office will open to normal queries at six AM, and we¡¯ll follow up with you as soon as possible.¡¯ I curse and drop the phone on the table, no one is going to help me, and I can¡¯t let this idiot hurt Vivian. There¡¯s a harsh knock on our door. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there. Open it up, give me your point chips and no one gets hurt,¡± he calls. ¡°I¡¯ve got a gun, if you try to come in, I¡¯m going to shoot!¡± I yell back, my voice shaking as I work to stabilize the gun in my hands. ¡°Pal, we both know you don¡¯t have a gun,¡± he calls. ¡°I called the Corporate Police, they¡¯re on their way, so you better get out of here.¡± ¡°Phone lines are out,¡± he said, calling my bluff. He kicks the door, the thud and vibration of impact booming through my apartment, but the heavy door holds. He kicks again, and appears in the doorway, holding his gun up. I see blood splattered on his clothes, and it leaves no question of his innocence. He looks at me with surprise in his eyes, his weapon still not aimed. It looks like he really didn¡¯t think I had a weapon. Acting on instinct, I shoot three rounds into his chest before he can raise his weapon. Vivian screams in the bathroom, and I walk over to the body, kicking his weapon, a cheap Chinese concealable by the looks of it, out of the way. Blood is pooling on the flooring of my apartment and the concrete from outside, but I don¡¯t touch anything, not even the dozens of point cards that are spilling from the pockets in his jacket. They¡¯re worth hundreds of points combined, but I know better than to touch anything on the scene of a crime. The nine-millimeter rounds had no trouble punching through his coat, and at least his death was clean. I¡¯m surprised I¡¯m not feeling anything other than the twinge of electricity in my veins from the adrenaline rush. I killed the man on instinct and adrenaline alone. I had to protect Vivian, so that¡¯s what I did. ¡°Vivian, stay in the bathroom, I¡¯m fine, and no one is going to hurt us now.¡± ¡°What happened, Mike?¡± she yells. ¡°Stay in the bathroom, I¡¯ll tell you when you can come out.¡± One of my neighbors peaks his head outside and yells in surprise, it¡¯s Alec, the man in his fifties that does some freelance AI work for some of the information-based corporations. I shove my weapon into the pocket of my coat. ¡°Alex, he¡¯s dead,¡± I say. ¡°That was the thug that was mugging people in our building?¡± he asks, inching into the hallway. ¡°Yeah, I shot him when he kicked down my door,¡± I say. ¡°Why do you have a gun?¡± ¡°I used to be a courier driver at Rogers Shipping, they never took back the gun.¡± ¡°You¡¯re licensed to carry?¡± he asks, still standing close to his door, as if afraid to look at the body.¡± ¡°Yeah, I am. I¡¯ve been trying to get a hold of the Corporate Police, but they¡¯re unresponsive. I don¡¯t think I should touch the body since there weren¡¯t any witnesses. I don¡¯t want my prints on him.¡± ¡°Better not, the Corporate Police won¡¯t be here until the morning. We¡¯d better go see if anyone else on the other floors needs help, I heard shooting earlier as well,¡± Alex says, closing the door to his apartment and walking toward me. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°My wife is still locked in the bathroom, I need to talk to her,¡± I say. Alec nods, waiting in the hallway and staring at the body. I walk back into the apartment, stepping over the growing pool of blood on the floor and move toward my bedroom. I eye the weapon case for my nine millimeter, but decide to carry it with me just in case. With all the craziness happening, I want to be careful. I tuck the weapon in the back of my jeans, flipping up my jacket over it. ¡°Vivian, it¡¯s me. Can you open the door?¡± I say, tapping my fingers on the bathroom door. A few seconds later, and Vivian inches the door open. She looks afraid, but she¡¯s not crying. ¡°What happened, Mike?¡± ¡°Someone was robbing people door to door. I took a picture of him to send to the Corporate Police, and he came after me. When he kicked down our door, I shot him,¡± I say. ¡°Oh my God,¡± she says, raising her hands to her mouth. ¡°Where is he? Is he dead?¡± ¡°He¡¯s in the door frame of our front door. I can¡¯t move the body until the Corporate Police get here in the morning. They¡¯re going to need to investigate, and I don¡¯t want my prints on the body. Alec is out in the hall, and we think other people in the building may have gotten hurt so we¡¯re going to see if they need help.¡± ¡°I¡¯m coming with you,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯d rather you not, Vivian. I think you¡¯d be safer if you stay here, and you don¡¯t need to see the body,¡± I say. ¡°Mike, I¡¯m coming with you. If people need help, then maybe I can do something.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I say, just close your eyes while we walk and I¡¯ll guide you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, you saved us, Mike.¡± ¡°Our stuff,¡± I say. Without a front door, anyone could go into our apartment and steal our food and water while we¡¯re gone. We can¡¯t both go, and I¡¯m not sending Vivian on her own. I also don¡¯t want to leave her alone in the apartment. ¡°Alec, is your wife home?¡± I ask. ¡°Yes, why?¡± ¡°Could she wait in our apartment while we¡¯re checking on people. We can¡¯t lock up, and with everything the way it is, people might try to loot the place while we¡¯re gone.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll ask, but it should be fine,¡± he says, disappearing into his apartment and returning with his wife, Cynthia. The woman had put on her coat before walking into the hallway, but she is moving cautiously, as if afraid to see the body. She¡¯s carrying a pump action shotgun and nods at both of us before walking toward our apartment. ¡°I¡¯ll hold down the fort while you¡¯re gone.¡± With Cynthia guarding our apartment from looters, we head down the stairwell to the sixth floor. People have gathered around a body of a woman that¡¯s in the middle of the hallway. A knife is held loosely in her hand. A man with a handgun steps forward, pointing it at us. ¡°Is that him?¡± he asks the others in the group. We raise our hands, and I move in front of Vivian to protect her. ¡°No, that¡¯s not him,¡± someone calls from the group and the bearded man in front lowers the weapon. ¡°Sorry about that, we just don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on,¡± he says. ¡°The intruder is dead, I shot him,¡± I say. ¡°Where is he?¡± the man asks. ¡°Upstairs on the seventh floor.¡± ¡°He stole my point chips,¡± someone says. There are murmurs of agreement. ¡°Look, the Corporate Police won¡¯t be here until morning, and you don¡¯t want your prints on the body. You all know as well as I do that those CCTV cams are just for show,¡± I say, pointing up at the fake cameras that line the hallways. Our intruder knew that too, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have risked the robberies without a mask.¡± ¡°Or he was desperate enough not to care,¡± a woman said. ¡°I say we go take back our point cards from the body,¡± a man says. The bearded man in the front with the handgun turns to face the others. ¡°This guy is right, we don¡¯t want our prints on anything, and those point cards are part of the crime scene now. You can file claims with the Corporate Police in the morning to get your property back.¡± ¡°Says the one who wasn¡¯t robbed. I bet you¡¯re still below one hundred too,¡± a man in the back says. The bearded man turns to glare at them. ¡°Trust me, you don¡¯t want to go to jail over this. You know as well as I do that people in Jail get culled.¡± That seemed to silence them, and eventually, the crowd dispersed. The woman that had been killed apparently thought that the intruder¡¯s gun was either a fake or he didn¡¯t have ammo, and had tried to fend him off with a knife. Vivian, Alec, and I returned to our floor where others stood inspecting the body. Cynthia was standing over it with her shotgun, keeping people from grabbing the blood-soaked point cards. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to guard this until morning,¡± Alec says. Cynthia and I can do it so you two can get some rest. I wanted to decline his offer, but I need to go to work tomorrow. Since I still don¡¯t know my score, I need to see about getting some extra hours in to get more financial security. ¡°If you¡¯re sure you don¡¯t mind,¡± I say. ¡°I work my own hours, and I know you¡¯re in a bind without the graveyard shifts. We can¡¯t help you financially, but we can help with this,¡± Alec says. Vivian and I thank him, and I help Alec move his recliner out into the hallway. He plugs in his laptop to a power socket on the wall and leans back in the chair, coding away at something with the shotgun resting across his lap. It¡¯s a strange sight, but it keeps people away from the body. As I¡¯m getting ready for bed, I get a message on my phone through the internet, it¡¯s from Corey. ¡®Don¡¯t go to work tomorrow. Cullings will start again and people will riot on streets. Check your email and delete it once you¡¯ve opened. The points are clean.¡¯ ¡®How do you know?¡¯ I respond, opening my email to see a message from some cryptic address, it looks like old internet protocol, an IP address from a server with a long chain of characters for a name. There are two buttons in the email that say ¡®click here¡¯. I punch the buttons and my phone vibrates, indicating that I¡¯d received one hundred points, about a month¡¯s worth of salary for me. Vivian is yelling in the other room, calling my name in a mixture of confusion and excitement. My score updates on my phone. 32.4 ¡®Glad the points made it through. They¡¯re clean, so don¡¯t worry about that, but we should meet up and talk,¡¯ the new message from Corey says. ¡®We¡¯ve got a situation here at the apartments, I won¡¯t be free until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.¡¯ ¡®McLowen¡¯s at 8 PM, be there, and delete that email with the points,¡¯ Corey¡¯s message reads. ¡®Deleted, and I¡¯ll be there,¡¯ I respond. How does Corey have access to that many points? How does he know what¡¯s going on? I¡¯m scared, but I can use all the help I can get, and if the points are clean, then Vivian and I need them. I have to trust Corey for now, he¡¯s been my best friend for fifteen years, but I need to find out what he¡¯s hiding before it¡¯s too late. ¡°Mike, someone sent me points, it¡¯s from an unknown address, I¡¯m back to a forty-five,¡± Vivian says, rounding the corner in her nightgown. Her baby bump is easily visible, and for now, all I can do is be thankful that our situation has improved, even if there is a body in our entry way. I have to keep Vivian and my daughter safe, and that starts with finding out what Corey is up to and figuring out what¡¯s going on. I fall asleep with Vivian, trying to get a few hours of rest before we have to deal with the Corporate Police.