The last song of the ancestors

At the top of Chrome Hill, the party that had started the night before went on until the early hours of the morning. Some had succumbed to the stupor of drink and drugs. Others still resisted and danced frantically, alone or accompanied.

At the edge of the pool, the women rolled around with glasses of booze in their hands. The game was to dance without spilling a drop in the water. Anyone who spilled a drink had to take off their bikini. Many spilled drinks on purpose to show off.

Some drug dealers would shoot their guns to impress the women and also provoke their enemies in the neighboring slums. They showed off their implants, cybernetic prostheses and all kinds of technology. It was a demonstration of power. Their image of supposed superiority reached the Metaverse. The greater the reach of their posts, the greater the power they achieved.

The slum boss enjoyed filming the sculptural women showing off the elasticity of their bodies at a frenetic pace. It was everything he had dreamed of. He felt like a king. But to his annoyance, a figure appeared without anyone noticing, and just as it appeared, it disappeared.

Annoyed, he pushed one of the women who tried to stop him from leaving the poolside. In his underwear and barefoot, he went to his mansion and grabbed a bathrobe. He ran his hands through his still wet hair and said:

"I told you not to interrupt my fun for nothing, Yasini. I hope it's an emergency."

He went to the refrigerator, got some ice cubes and prepared a whisky.

"Sorry, boss. Smoke and Jarda reported the arrival of a new guy on Chrome Hill. His name is Akachi. He could be a militia or government infiltrator."

A young adult stepped out of the shadows. He was tall and thin for his age. He wore a gray hooded djellaba with the sleeves torn off. Kneeling on the ground, his dark face was shrouded in shadows. His body had patterned scarifications, like tattoos in high relief. Glued to his body, he held a pewter javelin.

"A new guy, and that worries you? People come here every day, and people die on this hill every day. You're going crazy!"

"It's not about that. My Guardian Ori Zuber is feeling a strong concentration of Axé. Something latent that is stirring up the Force in the area."

"Does that mean?"

"He's a medium. I don't think he knows how to control his Force."

"I don't know anything about these things you're talking about. But if it is a medium, try to bring it over to our side."

"Okay."

The hill boss returned to his private party.

Yasini got up from the ground and put the javelin on his shoulder. A spirit appeared floating behind him. He looked the same as the young man in the djellaba, but older and bald. Its scarifications were different. His metaphysical skin on his arms and forehead resembled the scales of a crocodile. His eyes sparked with hatred.

"I don't know why you still insist on working as a bodyguard for that asshole. Isn't it about time we killed that worm and showed him our power?"

"I didn't come here to become head of Chrome Hill. We fled Ilu Nla to survive. We would attract unwanted attention, my irascible Ori Guardian. We've come a long way in our condition. The deities must be disappointed in us, Zuber."

"Fuck the deities, Yasini. They didn't intervene when that madman staged a coup in Ilu Nla."

"Whatever, let's go and find this Akachi guy. I hope he's really strong, otherwise I'll kill him."

⸎

It was early when the pair arrived at Okafor's store. The old man was arranging things on the shelves, simple things. The coolest merchandise he kept in the back of the store. He was a receiver of stolen technology, from Ilu Nla and other countries. He also served as an informer, knowing everything that was going on in Chrome Hill and the surrounding area.

When Spin Bomb asked him to suggest some services for Akachi, the old man raised his eyebrows. The boy didn't look like someone who operated either on the street or on the net. He didn't look like a netrunner, but he didn't look like a booster or a posergang. He was too young to be a corp on a solo mission.

Okafor saw Akachi as an unknown. The most cyberwear the boy had was an exoskeleton. He hardly knew what job to assign to someone as inexperienced and under-resourced as him. He searched his memory for something the newcomer could do without dying and without compromising his own name.

"You mean the new guy here has to be a merc, don't you? First I need to know what you can do."

"I can help in the store…"

"No, kid, I'm serious. I don't need any helpers here. I take good care of my store on my own. I can do a lot of jobs for you. Do you know how to infiltrate? Mine information in databases? Do you have expertise in firearms or cybertech theft?"

"When Spin Bomb spoke of service, I was thinking of something less… illegal."

Okafor and Spin Bomb looked at each other. They laughed so hard at Akachi's face that they folded up like sheets of paper, snorted and their bellies ached from laughing so hard.

Akachi's face was frowning with embarrassment and a bead of sweat was running down his temple.

This guy is a complete gonk! He won't last long on the streets.

"Look, I don't think there's anything for you, my boy."

"Wait, Okafor. I'm not an NGO owner who has to support a guy. Find something he can do, and fast!"

"Your choom's not even plugged in and you want him to check out of this world. All right. There's a reporter coming. He's a culture vulture, he's coming tomorrow. One of those journalists who make a living out of reporting sensationalist news. He gave Central Command a lot of money to authorize his stay here. I checked the guy's rap sheet myself, he's got a lot of Credibit, but he didn't find anyone who wanted to accompany him."

"All right, I think I can do that, Mr. Okafor."

Okafor went behind the counter. He picked up a dark briefcase. He opened it to reveal a pistol and a comb. Spin Bomb approached, curious.

"Don't get excited, this is a 3D printer replica. It's good for shooting. It has fourteen bullets. Forty-point caliber ammunition. There's a risk of it jamming, and if it overheats, it'll go bad."

He held out the firearm to Akachi. The boy seemed dissatisfied with it.

"You can't walk around here unarmed, especially if you want to survive. I don't know about your past, but now you're on the margins of society. You'll need money. If you're here on the run, or if you want to build a new life, you should start with a gun in your hand. You don't want to be cornered and unarmed when you have to fight for your life. Take it, kid."

With a trembling hand, he picked up the gun. It was light, even with the ammunition clip. Okafor showed him how to deactivate the safety catch. He explained that there would be a kick when the gun went off, and to avoid shooting himself.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm only joking. Now keep this in your waistband and only pull it out to finish off your enemy."

"I'll live to see my father again."

"That's how you say it, kid."