Chapter 4: Ember

"Fuck you, boo!" Ember shouted with a laugh. Her voice, a surprisingly deep feminine tone given her small frame, carried well. People around her looked in her direction with various mixtures of anger and surprise, thinking she was speaking to them. When they noticed the little hovering indicator near her head though, telling them she was recording herself, they realized she was just another influencer, rolled their eyes, and went back to what they were doing.

Ember ignored all of them. She was weaving her way through the busy crowd having just entered The Bridge, a long, narrow structure. Once a passenger ship that had crashed onto the starbase, with the front and rear ends of the fuselage rested with each end embedded in two starscrapers that faced each other. The Bridge stretched across empty air, with Thomas Street far below. Airborne traffic glittered gently above and below The Bridge structure.

Within that structure, tables, chairs, two separate bars, and smattering of gambling tables made traversal difficult, so the owner had built a walkway across its top. This was an interesting choice by itself, given that another previous owner had replaced the entire top half with transparent steel windows. So anyone crossing the bridge overhead could look down at people partying, eating, and gambling, while anyone inside could look up the skirts of people crossing above.

None of this interested Ember.

"Omigod Capper, thanks for the three-orbit sub! You're the best! Anyway like I was saying right, this place is supposed to be so neutral or whatever, right? Yeah, haha yeah! Like it's one of those speakeasies where they're all—" she took on a mocking upper-class accent "—I do declare, we are the NeUtRaL tErRiToRy, all may come here and be frrreeeee!" She rolled the 'r' and extended the word into a laugh.

On one side of her vision, displayed by her ICS, Ember could see a wall of comments flowing ever upward, live chat convos to her and about her. She laughed excitedly. "Yes! Exactly! It's so stupid. You're gonna love this tho, cause they're... no, abbada, they're not. Nope. Mods block him. Anyway what was I saying. Oh right, thank you! No, they've got these VIP booths right? Don't seem so neutral or open to me. Wait'll you dolls see this, it's gonna be great. I've got—hey, fuck you boo!"

Ember glared at the man who had bumped into her. Legitimately, he had been the one in the wrong. For all her focus on her stream chat and holding a conversation with several thousand people at once, she was remarkably adept at moving through a crowd without incident. Until, that is, some oaf stood up from his table and drunkenly walked straight into her.

It's not like Ember was hard to miss, she kinda stood out despite being small. With her white platform shoes she only just reached 155 centimeters tall; skinny as a rail and good at dodging a crowd, it almost took effort to run into her. She was dressed in a glittering light blue dress that was at most 60% opaque, giving an obscured view of the nothing she wore underneath. Her hair was long, glowing bright pink, her eyeshadow and liner were immaculate, with bright pink and blue glitter, complimented by her glittering blue lips. Over top of everything she wore a fluffy white coat with fake fur lining; on most women it would extend to their waist but for Ember it went almost to her thighs. She was also wearing white fuzzy hip-high socks to keep her legs warm.

"Seriously pal, what the fuck!" She glared up at the man who'd bumped into her. Ember's deeper voice often caught them by surprise. She found it useful a lot of the time, including right now.

He stared down at her drunkenly, blinking a few times before he responded with a befuddled apology. Ember shook her head with a disgusted sound and slipped past him into the crowd. Her stream chat exploded with activity, and she laughed along with them.

"I know right?! Some fucking people! Anyway whatever. Okay so this place is The Bridge or whatever, it's a speakeasy but it's also a bridge across Thomas Street. Everybody here knows it. Yeah. Yeah that one. NO, fuck dammit, mods block him he made another account. So anyway, it's like a casino, speakeasy, restaurant, bar, blah blah, but they got these private booths right? They're super expensive, but also a lot of them are flat-out owned by mob bosses so nobody else can use them. And fuck that right? So check this out."

While she was speaking, Ember made her way to a small stairway that lead downward toward the outside of the structure. It was only six small steps, and at the bottom of them were two large gangsters in fancy suits. Behind them, through a doorway, she could see a table stacked with food.

One of the guards held a hand out and started to speak, saying something about private access.

"Sure thing, gotcha!" Ember said cheerfully. Without much effort she slipped between the two guards, and before they realized what was happening she was standing outside on the balcony. In front of her the food-laden table currently entertained only two people; a large old man in a suit, and an old woman wearing expensive furs.

The guards reached for her, put hands on her to pull her back. The old woman gasped in terror, the old man stood up and reached for a gun in his vest. In the blink of an eye, Ember produced two items from her fluffy coat. In her right hand she held a silver pistol, the bottom of its barrel glowing bright turquoise as the weapon activated with a high-pitched whine, and she pointed it directly at the old man's head. In her left hand she was holding a small cylinder with a clasp along its length. With her left thumb she clicked a button on the top of it.

"This is a deadman switch!"

Everyone stopped in their tracks. Ember smiled.

"Okay then." She said, and her soft, low voice took on a playful tone again. "The gun is real, the switch is real, and my coat is lined with enough boomfun to take out this entire place. We clear?"

The two guards hesitated and looked to their boss, unsure how to proceed. The older woman clutched one hand to her chest and looked up at the large man. He was extremely angry. He glowered down at Ember, his face so red with rage it almost turned purple.

"Who th—"

"Ember Gallow! You're welcome."

The man sputtered, bit back some retort, and swallowed angrily. "Do you know who I am?"

"Nope!" Ember smiled. Her stream chat was moving so fast she didn't even bother trying to read it. "Let's sit and enjoy some drinks, tho!"

"What do you want?"

Ember shrugged. "I mean, I just said it? Wanna have a few drinks, that's all. Your balcony looks cozy, and it has a great view. Let's get to know each other, and then when I've had my taste we can all go about our evenings and nobody has to explode. How's that sound?"

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am. True as fuckin' metal, my guy." Ember's eyes flashed, and her expression was serious as she wiggled the switch in her left hand. "Test me. Or just enjoy a nice little chat."

"How do I even know you really have a bomb?"

Ember was already nodding her head before the man had finished his question. "Figured you'd wanna know. It's a fair question! So I'ma do this." She holstered her pistol, there was a small sound of it powering down. In the same motion she pulled out a chunk of plastic explosive and held it up so everyone could see. "Old tech's great, yeah? Can't hack this, no software to fry, it's perfect. Check this."

She pressed a button on the side of the block and it began beeping rapidly. All four other people on the balcony screamed and tried to duck away, but Ember ignored them and threw the block past the old man's shoulder. It sailed past him, over the balcony railing, into the open air over Thomas Street. It was a long way down to the deck plates below, and even further up to the tops of the surrounding sky scrapers, but here there was space between lanes of traffic.

The explosive went off with a shattering boom, a cloud of smoke, and a shockwave that obliterated windows in the buildings either side of the street. Traffic above and below veered off as drivers panicked and AI tried to avoid danger; one car plowed into another, and the two of them came to a sliding halt on another nearby bridge.

Ember giggled. The old man and woman were on the floor beneath the table, the two gangsters were on the floor behind her, through the door. Everyone else in the speakeasy had gone quiet, but they slowly resumed their conversations. Ember reached into her coat, pulled out another block of explosive, and set it on the table. "There! Proof I'm not kidding."

No one else spoke. The crowd in the speakeasy behind her had resumed their previous level of noise; even the band had resumed their cyber jazz.

"Ha! I know right?" Ember responded to a comment in her stream chat. "Hey mods, that fuckbucket is back, one of you send him a mountain of malware, please. Thank you Craaaiiiig." The last she said in a singsong voice, then she looked to the old man and woman and held out her hands with an annoyed expression. "So, you gonna invite me to your table, or what? This is really simple."

She held out the switch in her left hand and wiggled it again. The song from the speakeasy behind her was particularly good, she started swaying to the beat.

The old man cleared his throat as he slowly reached his feet. He helped his wife up as well, and they both returned to their chairs. "Won't uh... won't you join us, Ember?"

"Why, thank you! I'd be delighted." Ember sat down across from the other two, and waved her empty hand dismissively at the two guards to shoo them away. "You're so sweet to offer. Hey chat, wasn't that sweet of him to invite me? Such a pleasant gentleman. You guys should sub him, and whatever gang he runs. Who are you anyway?"

He straightened up a bit when she asked that, as if he rediscovered his pride. "My name is Oliver Noah, I'm on the Board of Pesnya Krovi."

"Oh shit, I've heard of you guys! Hey chat, go sub Pesnya Krovi and Oliver Noah. Hey are these real cherries?" The table was stacked with various fruits, all surrounding a main course of grilled chicken and various side dishes. She picked one of the cherries and popped it into her mouth. It was sweet, sharp, and tender, with only a bit of grain to the texture. "Nah, printed. Fantastic quality tho. Chat if you ever get to try one of the expensive food printers, they're friggin' worth the price, I'm telling you. These are great."

She ate a few more cherries, swallowing with pleasure as she did, then reached for Oliver's glass of champagne. It was cool and bubbly, very refreshing. Oliver and his wife watched her silently, unmoving, as she drained the glass of champagne and set it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. "May I please have some more?"

Oliver was still for a moment until he slowly reached behind him, where a champagne bottle was resting in a bucket of ice. When he poured it into the glass Ember had commandeered, she got a good look at the bottle. It was real glass, for one thing, but more importantly there was no telltale glimmer from neurofiber embedded within it. This meant it had no tracking algorithms and couldn't be controlled by any corporation, making it entirely illegal.

"Oh shit! Chat, check it out, Oliver hold up the bottle so chat can see. Guys look, it's a real bottle of real champagne! There's no UCT neurofiber, this is the good stuff." She leaned in for a better look, then sat back and took her glass in hand again. With a smile and a wink she put the glass to her lips and downed it again. She emptied the whole thing in one go. The taste of it was bright and cheerful, lively and somehow almost kind. Yeah, that was the word; it tasted like kindness.

Ember swallowed, sighed contentedly, and rested her head back on the bench. She closed her eyes and sat very still. Legs crossed, hands resting in her lap, she let herself drift in silent reflection of this moment she'd created. Her head felt light from the champagne, felt a bit like it was spinning. She could almost feel the drop beneath her to the deck plates far below, and for a moment she entertained taking the plunge. Her light head felt wonderful, and she imagined her fall would feel much the same. Blissful emptiness all the way to the pavement below.

The sound of a gun powering up interrupted her reverie, and she clicked her tongue in irritation.

"Hey champ, did you forget this? I die, you all die." She held the deadman switch up in front of her. Ember didn't bother opening her eyes, she remained seated exactly as she was. This seat was comfortable, and the feeling of empty air around her was exhilarating. "Chat, can you believe these idiots? Woman waves a deadswitch at them and their plan is to shoot her. Hahaha!" Her laugh was unexpectedly genuine, she even surprised herself. She heard the sound of a gun powering back down. "Yeah that's what I thought."

Oliver's wife spoke up, her voice taut with anger. "What is it you want?"

"Me? Oh, I don't want shit, gorgeous." She didn't open her eyes or change position.

Now Oliver spoke. "Then why the fuck are you here?"

"Because only assholes like you are allowed here, Ollie. And you think you're special for it."

"You think you deserve to be here? You think you have a right?"

Ember ignored him entirely. For long moments, the balcony was quiet. Ember ignored her chat, her hosts, the guards, the crowd, the bar. She took an occasional cherry and savored it. The flavor of them was nice, far better than she'd ever tasted from a budget printer, plus they were nice and juicy. After a while she opened her eyes without changing position. With her head resting on the back of her seat, she found herself looking upwards.

She could see the underside of slicers and air cars, a few shuttles, a couple revbikes equipped with gravslides. Past them, she saw more layers of traffic higher above. The buildings around her towered up and up, glittering in the darkness, lit only by traffic headlights, lighting from windows within them, and the broad combined glow of glowing clothing in the crowd at each level. There were bridges connecting buildings, sidewalks at various altitudes, balconies and rooftops, the place was a clutter of civilization growing together in one mass of ferrocrete, nanosteel, and graphene.

At the tips of the buildings she could just make out the expensive mansions, even high-tech castles. There were no bridges up there, and very little air traffic. Beyond them, far off in the distance, she could see the other side of Starbase 65. The entire thing was one massive ring-shaped structure. She held up her empty hand, pointed her finger up between the buildings, toward the other side of the station, and mimed firing a gun while she made a little "pshew" noise with her mouth.

She wondered, if she fired her actual gun, who she might hit on the other side. What they might be doing right now. Were any of them enjoying a moment, just a moment, as she was? Did they feel as free as she did right now? As lonely? As lost? Ember took a long breath and let it out slowly.

Her stream chat was still there, hovering down below where she'd left it, within its field of motion relative to her position. She made a gesture with her hand to bring it up in front of her vision, and spent a few moments reading it. As expected, pretty much the same viewer count. Some of them were still talking about Ember's stunt, but they were also used to her taking moments like this and had started chatting about the latest game release.

"Hokay chat, I think I'm spent. Was it good for you?" She watched them respond for a while, and then blew them all a kiss. "Momma's tired now, I think I'ma go home. You be good for me, m'kay? I don't have the energy for my usual sign-off, I'm sorry. No, I'm tired. Look here's the train heist sign-off, happy?" She opened a recording of one of the most famous sign-offs she'd ever done, standing atop a moving monorail train. "There. No. No! Ugh, buncha whiny cry-babies, I swear. Fine! I'll do the damn thing."

She raised her head, stretched her neck for a moment, and looked around. Oliver and his wife were sitting silent, sullen, glaring at her. The guards outside had been joined by three more, and they all looked as intimidating as possible. She stuck her tongue out and blew them a raspberry as she stood up, placed one platformed shoe on the seat beneath her, then leveraged herself up to put one foot on the table, then the other. She kicked off most of the food, sending Oliver and his wife into a furious scramble to catch some of it.

Ember ignored them, went into her sign-off. She held her arms out wide, put on her best smile, and stood atop the empty space of the street below. "Girls, girls, girls! You've been my best sweet angels tonight, and I absoLUTELY, aDORE you! Sub for exclusive streams, check my BaseBranch for all my other links, send me DMs if you want me to have your babies, thank you for FOLLOWING me and, for the last time today, FUCK! YOU! BOO!"

Her chat stream was a blur of text, her mods played her signature music, and Ember laughed loud and long as if she were a conquering villain. She ended the stream. Her laugh stopped, her smile dropped to a neutral expression, and she brought her ams back down to her sides. In a smooth motion she swiveled on one platformed shoe, stepped off the table, and landed on the balcony floor. The guards moved to block her way, and she waggled the deadswitch in their direction.

"Please make me." Her voice was flat, even lower than usual. Her face was blank.

When the guards didn't move, she let her hand relax a bit. They exclaimed and dropped back, separating to let her pass. Ember walked between them without a glance, up the little steps into the speakeasy, and headed toward one of the exits at the other end. She didn't bother checking if the guards were following her, or if Oliver had anyone tracking her.