“In a world where memories are currency,” Desperation said in its best movie voiceover voice.

Dropping his arms, Pemberley rolled his eyes. The weight of the retro-style barber chair shifted. Shai groaned. She pushed the end of the chair she was carrying hard smacking her partner in crime in the chest.

“Where the wealthy live in blissful ignorance,” Desperation said adding more bravado to its voice. “Gorging on their pick of exciting memories, manipulating minds to hide their crimes.”

On the floor of the van, the chair is nestled next to the memory squidset and their hiking backpacks. Desperation, downloaded to a flexi drive, was plugged into the rental van’s dashboard. The AI was playing dramatic background music when Pemberley slammed the van’s rear door.

Shai whispered, “is it always so…”

“Annoying, obnoxious, and general around pain in my assery,” Pemberley said loudly. “Don’t bother whispering Des has infected all of your devices with spyware. It can hear us from our laptops speakers, your burner phone, my smart glasses, hell it got in my electric toothbrush and keeps telling me to floss. Floss my Aunt Frances lower my insurance deductible, you bucket of bolts.”

Pemberley loaded a box of go go meals and water purifiers. Shai passed him the first aid kit. The tent and other camping gear took up most of the van’s interior. Desperation continued his compelling voiceover. Shaking her head Shai thought how all she had asked the AI memory extractor was hey how you doing?

“While the destitute pawn their happiest moments just to survive, two rogue agents set out to right the score.”

Desperation added a funky seventies rift to its personal soundtrack.

“Wait can’t you reprogram the AI to be a bit more…”

“Sane. Naww, I work for Desperation. I catalog the clients’ memories, clear up any corruptive thoughts. But Des would never let me tamper with zeros and ones,” Pemberley said tucking a battered axe behind his driver’s seat.

He locked and scrambled the keypad on the pawnshop’s rear exit. The surprisingly resourceful Shai had set up a gasoline paraffin booby trap inside if anyone tried to break in to the building to trace their movements. Pemberley watched her check her rifle’s magazine before climbing into the passenger side. Holy Mole I really should spend more time around librarians, Pemberley thought. He climbed in behind the wheel.

“You take calling shotgun—“

“One day a renegade programmer finds a way to find stolen memories,” Desperation continued.

Shai bapped Pemberley on his nose.

“Stop interrupting and listen. Who runs Desperation Pawn & Loan?” Shai demanded.

“Ow! Bronwyn ‘Brownie’ Wisel. She’s the wizard behind the curtain. Desperatin has evolved under the weight of extracting memories. But Brownie can figure out how the brotherhood is memory mining and how to stop them. By hook or by crook, Brownie is where we’re headed. “

Off key Desperation sang The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The van’s tires squealed into the setting sun.