The last song of the ancestors

It took the culture vulture two days to land on Chrome Hill. He had made Okafor a fixer in order to get into the slum and obtain a bodyguard. He wanted to make a mini-documentary about the mutant hyenas. These animals were very aggressive; even if he was protected in a vehicle, something could go wrong.

Even though he was on time, he was about three hours late. Even he made a triumphant entrance piloting a spin bike. He landed in the middle of a multi-sports court, making the futsal players jump over the rusty railings.

The culture vulture descended with an affected air, accompanied by his cameraman. His camera was a remote-controlled drone that caused laughter among the residents. Drones could already be controlled remotely by brain waves. With a small implant and an app installed, the guy could maneuver the thing in the blink of an eye.

The culture vulture called himself the Happy Prince, his digital influencer name. He had been born as a phenomenon of the lownet, a place in the metaverse frequented by the lower classes, where subcelebrities stood out by producing appealing content. Now the media nobleman was a high-ranking member of Ilu Nla's state-owned NeTV.

Akachi, Spin Bomb and Okafor crossed two blocks to reach the journalist. All around him, a crowd gathered to take selfies. Everyone wanted to post a 3D photo on their social media profiles in the metaverse.

After elbowing, pushing and threatening, the trio pulled the Happy Prince and his personal cameraman out of the crowd.

"Excuse me, my followers. Irreducible fans of my friendliness, wait for my next posts on the networks, wow!"

"Happy Prince, we'd better get out of this place. I can't wait for these people to hit us."

"Ufufufufufufu, my followers would never do that. They're pure love and peace, Okafor, my little darling."

⸎

The five of them were at a table in a bar on the second floor of a slab house, above a mezzanine. It was a restricted-access establishment, known only to tourists and media personalities. They sat on rusty steel chairs that creaked when they moved. The tables were made of wooden spools. In front of them was a wall of two-way armored glass. You could see all the movement on the street.

The walls had long-play covers printed on them like post-modern paintings. A statuette of an old and famous movie award had been graffitied and decorated with straw props, conch shells and rosaries of red seeds and jadeites.

The Happy Prince found everything very conceptual, with a vintage feel. An atmosphere of the 20th century in the present, and the present was long gone.

"So, my loves, what did you think of the point?"

Okafor was impressed. He had lived in Chrome Hill for years, and even though he was relatively well-connected, he didn't know about this cultural oasis.

Spin Bomb and Akachi were more impressed by the Happy Prince. He was a typical exotic. He had been bio-sculpted to look like a feline. He had cat ears and a small, triangular nose. His iris was golden yellow and his pupil was a thin, vertical line.

He wore a purple velvet one-button suit. He was tall. His upper body was small, broad and well-muscled. In contrast, his legs were long and slender. He wore floral-print loafers with a polished metal toe. The guy was visual pollution in person.

"Well, it's different… isn't it, Akachi?"

"Yeah… Spin Bomb… put different in that. I think…"

"This bar is a stronghold of celebrities addicted to customized drugs. I used to come here a lot in my days as a famous subfive."

A robot waiter came to the table. He poured drinks and a bottle of beer for Okafor. The more they drank, the louder and more irritating the Happy Prince's voice became. He was spreading.

Spin Bomb took advantage of the fact that he was already drunk enough, and asked about the job:

"You didn't call us here just to drink. Mutant hyenas aren't that attractive to attract the attention of a famous journalist like the Happy Prince."

"Miss, it's no wonder they call you Spin Bomb. You're very explosive, cabummmm! That's right. I want something more specific from our hyena’s mutatis mutandis, I want to record their breeding period. Your sexy mating dance, and…"

The man didn't finish. Spin Bomb and Akachi had their heads down and were suffering from bouts of vomiting.

"Holy shit! Look what this guy wants to record. What kind of pervert are you?"

"Look Spin Bomb, I don't even want to imagine those things…"

"What silly children. There are lots of videos that pay a lot of money on our subscription channel. The state knows how to make money, so stay there and sleep on it."

"You should have charged for unhealthiness, Okafor. And you got Akachi in on it."

Prince Happy looked at Akachi, then at Spin Bomb. He gave a mischievous smile that caused the pair enormous embarrassment. That cat-like stare gave away a series of silent speculations. The climactic pie had already been served, but no one dared to eat it. Prince Happy observed that Akachi had a weefle look on his face.

"Are you ready for this mission, sweetie?"

"Who are you…"

"Of course, he is. Show him, Akachi."

The boy pulled out the high-density polymer pistol that Okafor had given him. Only the magazine clicked and collapsed on the boy's foot. He dropped the firearm on the table, picked up his foot and put it on the table to blow on it like a Megadrive cartridge. He received a Spin Bomb for his lack of table manners.

The cameraman picked up the pistol with the fingers of his pincer-like hand and swung it from side to side:

"My cousin has one of these. The difference is that he's five years old."

On the outside, Prince Happy remained calm. Inside, he was a nervous wreck. His life had been entrusted to a gonk, a merc noob who would be zeroed out the first time he made a mistake. He was dissatisfied, but he couldn't back down. He had his own mission to complete.

Oh, by the gods of social cancellation, they're complete bourgy in this slum. What would they say about me in the metropolis after I'd reached my peak?

"Considering Akachi's inexperience, I'll give him some 2,500 Credibits. Half now, half when I come back alive… if I do…"

"What a pittance!"

"It's true, Spin Bomb. The rate has gone up, our detonation girl here is going to get in on the act. Chrome Hill is dangerous. The militia are making moves to take control of our slum. Believe me, you'd better take her."

"Okay, Okafor. I get it. 3,000 Credibits, and that's it."

Okafor, Akachi and Spin Bomb slammed their palms together on the table and said:

"I accept!"