The last song of the ancestors

A tense atmosphere dominated the gate of Chrome Hill. Smoke was laughing from above. He was enjoying the desperation of the residents. No one dared move, no one wanted to be shot.

Spin Bomb kept one hand on the portable blowtorch and the other on one of his explosives. He didn't know how he could get out of that situation without spilling blood. Yard and Smoke formed a duo where the word moderation didn't exist in their vocabulary. They preferred to solve everything by shooting first and asking questions later.

Jarda kept his gun pointed at Akachi's sweaty forehead. The boy felt the mad urge to take the gun from the criminal's hand and reverse the position of the game. But he remembered that something could go wrong and someone could get hurt. As much as he thought about reacting, his body wouldn't move. He looked like a statue.

"So, you're not going to say anything, insider?"

"I'm not a mole."

"Speak with your mouth full, boy! Talk like a real man."

"I got here by chance. I ended up in the dump by accident."

"Boy, that's a sad story, isn't it?"

Tum! Jarda stabbed Akachi in the temple. He didn't collapse from the blow, but a trickle of blood ran down to his chin. There was such a silence that you could hear the drop of blood on the floor.

Akachi didn't fight back. Nor could she. He felt something throbbing from the center of his chest to his arms and legs. Like an electric current. His fists trembled. He turned his face once more to Jarda. He fixed his eyes on the armed man. Seeing the boy's confidence, he took a step back.

"Wow, that's scary!"

"Jarda, he saved me from the mutant hyenas back at the dump. He's not a bad guy. He's just lost and has no memory."

"It's very convenient that he shows up here out of the blue, and still amnesiac. That's very suspicious. You know that our Chief doesn't accept betrayal here in the slum. If this guy steps out of line, we'll have to punish him and you, Spin Bomb. Now, get this asshole out of here before I beat the shit out of him. Oh, and girl, don't forget to pay the protection fee again. The Boss might decide to charge you interest another way."

Although several swear words came to mind, Spin Bomb took Akachi by the shoulders and led him silently into the slum. With a piece of his tunic, the outsider wiped off the blood and was led away in the footsteps of the scrap collectors.

A whole world opened up to Akachi. Chrome Hill was like a transversal city, climbing over everything with its concrete and steel limbs.

Graffiti decorated the walls of the slab houses. Its neon paint glowed at night, making the urban calligraphy stand out amidst the architectural irregularity. Some of the more elaborate images were made up of graffiti extolling local gang members.

The panels, richly adorned with colors, shapes and three-dimensional effects, showed scenes from everyday life, always placing the gangsters in positions of success. They flaunted weapons, jewelry, cars and women. They were represented as users of advanced technologies, with nickel-plated implants and customized cyberware.

"Akachi, come on, don't fall behind. You're very absent-minded."

"Where are we going?"

"To Okafor's store. I need to give him some satisfaction, I couldn't collect anything today."

They continued along the streets. Many houses dumped their sewage in the street, leaving a sour ochre smell in the air. The houses were irregularly shaped, as they were built wherever they could be found. The houses were built with blocks and cement and all had a slab roof, which allowed more floors to be built over time.

Despite being a community that lacked structure and government, there was a network of local businesses. It was possible to have all their services taken care of, from medicine to supermarkets. These services were guaranteed by the Central Command. The criminal organization punished theft and robbery with death.

Residents were forbidden from contacting the military authorities to stop crimes. Everything was solved by going up the hill and talking to the Chief. The state was seen as an outsider, and there was more fear of the military than support from civilians.

Different people circulated in the streets. Including foreigners and tourists. The atmosphere was cosmopolitan. You could spot references from all over the world. Tradition and modernity merged into something new, diverse and yet to be known.

The pair arrived at old Okafor's store. The elderly black man was working at his armored glass counter. He had gray hair and thick, curly braids that went down to his shoulders. He was fat, with hairy shoulders and chest. He wore an unbuttoned floral shirt and denim shorts with the fly open.

He had a bionic arm made of steel, and each of his five fingers formed a different tool. With more joints, they could fix a broken device with unparalleled autonomy. The other flesh-and-blood hand provided a little support. When he saw the two visitors, he collected the tools from his bionic arm and removed the electronic magnifying glass from his face.

"This is my choom. The living always shows up. Have you brought anything good for me?"

"Unfortunately, not. The sea wasn't very fishy. But I caught this guy here."

With a tug, Spin Bomb brought the amnesiac boy close to her."

"Your output?"

"Get out, crown! Spin Bomb is not in business."

"Young people these days and their confirmed bachelorhood. What are you in charge of?"

"I'm in charge of nothing. Find an outfit that suits this man. His slurry fragrance is making me nauseous. He was lying there in the dump, unconscious. I had to mine him out of a pile of scrap metal. He remembers nothing but his name and that he had a father."

"That's what it's like to be rejected. Sorry, sorry about that."

While Akachi entertained himself by choosing a new change of clothes, Spin Bomb approached Okafor. He spoke softly:

"This guy is very strange. He arrived here just like that. He's got prosthetics I've never seen before, and what's worse, back at the dump, we were attacked by mutant hyenas. We were cornered, they didn't even have time for us to call out to God. The gate had already been closed by the scrap collectors. Out of nowhere we appeared on the other side, he picked me up and must have teleported, I don't know."

"Really, this Akachi is very mysterious. But I'm sorry to tell you, that's not a cybernetic implant or prosthesis, it's modular armor. An exoskeleton, take a good look."

Akachi, shirtless, showed a golden-colored structure covering his limbs, back and chest. There were no wires, pistons, locks or screws. The shape of the exoskeleton was subtle and very ergonomic. The joints ensured free movement for the boy. The model was very organic.

"It's certainly military. You'd better keep your little friend in the dark for now…"

"How nice to have a friend who was a former military engineer in the army."

"Don't say that out loud, the walls have ears. Oh, Akachi, Miss Explosive's choom here is my choom too. You can take it, it's on the house."

On the young man's chest was a circular plaque with various ancient symbols. And in the center of it was a lock with a key attached, turned vertically. A new mechanism for Okafor. The old man said goodbye to the pair and nodded. He tried to think back to when he worked with military technology. He smiled when he realized that he had seen it somewhere before.