Sojourn City was not built to last. The people that lived there either never got the memo, or decided to ignore it. Probably treated that message the same as eviction notices. Resiliency and stubbornness can often look like the same thing.

It’s a ramshackle place of progress for the sake of progress, with budding buildings sprouting on top of and in between old ones like cells dividing and multiplying endlessly. Whatever plan there was, if there ever was one to begin with, had long since been abandoned. It grew and evolved into newer neon signs covering the scar tissue of what the city used to be.

To outsiders, it was the labyrinth, designed to keep one confused and lost. To seek out the guidance drones that were just as likely to skim your bank account information as they were to drag you into a dark alley. Places where your belongings became Sojourn’s belongings.

To Niko Collingswood the city was like a living creature. It had a mood you could read if you paid attention. A certain hum in the bare electrical wires running like arteries overhead. The crashing thunder of the aircars burning lithium. Ripping through streets and alleys like dragons through myths. Hell, even the way steam curled off of vents could tell you the difference between “_turn here_” and “_don’t look up_”. Pay attention and Sojourn would tell you exactly how it felt. Most people just didn’t.

Niko did. He had made it his business to. It helped that he had hacked his way into the city years ago. Before the firewall and security protocols. Now he was as much a part of Sojourn’s DNA as it was a part of his.

Which is how he knew he was being followed.

The traffic camera two streets back had whispered in his ear. The ATM across the way was screaming it now. The warning cries of tech; flickers he could feel at the outskirts of his awareness, like an additional set of eyes or ears you had to tune into just right.

He had built a habit of constantly checking their feeds without really looking, of spotting the patterns in the madness of ones and zeros. A year ago it had been a sensory nightmare. Too much information and too much noise. It came naturally now, a fluency in the city’s native tongue.

The string of code behind his eyes couldn’t be seen by anyone else unless they were on top of him. Still he kept the hood of his charcoal grey sweatshirt up, hands tucked into the pockets of the synth-leather bomber jacket he wore over that, fingers brushing steel.

He could keep this quiet though, lose his tail in the madness of the city he was reborn in. A shift in focus and he willed the datasplicer installed at the base of his skull online. A direct line to the city herself, a fluency that worked both ways.

He asked. She answered. Together they turned all the neons signs and traffic lights on the block off just as Niko launched down the alley to his left. His feet crashed on the concrete, puddles of acid rain sizzled in the night as he moved.

He vaulted over a roving cleaner bot and poured on the speed. A quick request and the bot was sent back where Niko came from, destined to beep and bump its way into whoever was following him. The screaming cry of the city called him to a halt as an aircar sped through the next intersection, mere inches from where he had stopped. Then he was running again.

At the end of the alleyway Niko pulled a hard right, half falling and half running down the stairs into the underbelly of Sojourn’s subway systems. He couldn’t change the schedule of the trains. Not while on the move. He just needed to get there in time.

He waved his hand, and he was through the turnstile. Coincidentally, some megacorp in Hightown lost thirty credits at the same time. Weird.

Thirty-seven seconds until departure and Niko knew he wouldn’t make it in time. Unless…

He sent the signal ahead and hoped.

He would look back on the recordings later and laugh. The advertisements plastered along the tunnel walls had changed to those for local gyms as he ran past. Sojourn always had a sense of humor.

He hit the platform just as the train was supposed to leave, the automatic doors opening and closing repeatedly as they bumped into a guide drone. The tourist inside, a college aged girl in a vintage baseball hat looked on the brink of tears as she tried to get the tiny bot to follow her inside.

“Here, let me help,” Niko said as he mimed prodding at the bot’s screen while he secretly released the signal he had holding the bot in place. “The older ones can have a hard time underground,” he added for the girls benefit.

The doors closed behind him and the green line was moving a second later. The girl thanked him profusely, but she spoke too quickly and too loudly. She even made eye contact. For a second Niko almost wished he had taken his chances with whoever had been following him.

\\\\ Closing Feed \\\\

I hum contentedly as Niko makes his escape.

Most people ignore my warnings, avoid my signs. But Niko? The boy listens_, _he_ _really _listens_.

He trusts _me_ to take care of him.

Even more so, he tries so hard to take care of _me_. In all my years no one’s ever done that. No one’s ever cared, not truly. He’s one of the rare few who can even hear me. So I’ll continue to look out for him. I’ll keep directing the funds of those greedy bastards threatening to tear me down into his account. I’ll warn him when they come for him. And I’ll make sure they never see us coming.

I too can be resilient and stubborn.