The City did not treat Valeria with kindness. 

          And this was not something that came to Valeria as a shock. The City’s kindness was saved for the wealthy, the corrupt, or the ashamed. Valeria was none of these things. Valeria was mousey and small and hated trusting or opening her mouth. She was hard of hearing and used it to her advantage, pretending not to hear people despite the lettered subtitles that appeared on her glasses as she passed them.  

          Before Valeria had decided to sell her own wares in the market, she’d sit and observe the people through the window of her studio apartment. The Market crowd was a mixed bag, full of poorly covered colorful heads of hair adorned with hats and black hoods.  

          She’d watch at the big window in her apartment, sitting with her legs curled up under her chin. She watched the sea of people peter by. She wondered as her eyes wandered from bookshelf to dinky alarm clock to cybernetic cat (dated model with some ticks—even after she fed it, the cat wouldn’t stop meowing loud enough to bug her just a little bit) and back to her window that faced down, down, down into the street.  

          And after Valeria had packed her things neatly into a box for tonight’s run in the market, as she stood in front of her mirror, looking deep into her own synthetic green eyes, the voice of her sister rang in her ears.  

          “You have the most beautiful green eyes, Valeria.” The “l” in “leria” caught fast to the accent on eighteen-year-old Carolina’s tongue, and Valeria’s mother smiled warmly and crossed the room, clicking her tongue and using a hand to cup Valeria’s tiny face.  

         “They really are striking, mija.”  

          But Valeria did not mourn those striking hazel-green eyes she’d abandoned for the Cybernetic eyes that she specialized in—hers were a lighter shade of green. Valeria stood on her tippy-toes and peered into the mirror, her breath making small patches of fog on the glass, her gaze catching her own green eyes. They bored right back into her.  

          And as Valeria trekked into the abandoned fairgrounds on the outskirts of the City, she hoped that no one would cause her trouble. She’d arrived at the market slightly late, evident by the already set-up stands and the strange man stumbling from booth to booth. She had recently gotten into scavenging parts from planes to make a little more income, but it hadn’t been going as well as she’d hoped. She hadn’t known what parts to search for last week and the sale had been absolutely abysmal. 

          But this week, she was determined to make the side hustle happen. She had incorporated a beautiful little collection of scavenged parts into the corner of her booth—three or four pieces she was certain would make her enough to get a cat that didn’t get noise complaints.  

          She watched as the man she’d been watching stumbled closer to her, first three booths away, then two, then one. Dripping blood and approaching her, he sneezed a triple threat assault onto her booth: first, across the new plane parts, then, across her cyberoptics, and finally, down her shirt.  

 

“Oh, uh, fuck, sorry.” 

 

          Subtitles appeared as he stumbled into her line of sight. Valeria tilted her head, blinking as the man swayed. This wasn’t an infrequent event in the City since designer drugs were popular at the Market, but he didn’t seem to be on drugs. This was the closest encounter that Valeria had had with blood in a hot minute. Her hand hovered over one of her pistols—the one secured on the holster belted to her right leg—as the man stumbled closer to her. 

          He was tall, towering over her by almost an entire foot. A mop of matted green hair coated with blood drip, drip, dripped down the side of his face, and his rectangular glasses fell crooked and cracked across the bridge of his nose.             They were missing a lens. 

         Valeria blinked. She hesitated, retracting her hand from her pistol, staring with narrowed, inquisitive eyes as the man began to sputter again. 

 

“H-Hey, hey listen, I don’t wanna impose, I’m just tryin’ to get to my plane. I, my plane, my plane, I can’t—God, my fucking head—I can’t—I can’t think.”  

 

          Valeria had been living alone for the past two years. Never once did Valeria feel the need to risk her life and save a dying man at the Market. Men died in the Market every night. 

          But a dying man with blood-soaked hair at the Market with a plane. Her eyes blew wide as she jumped into action, quickly tucking her wares away into her bag and standing up. 

          The City was not frequently kind to Valeria. But tonight, she’d struck gold. 

          She wordlessly took the man by the hand and led him to the hospital. 

​

⋆｡˚ ✈︎ 

​

          The waiting room was white. 

          A blinding sterile whiteness that made her want to shut herself in her apartment with her shitty loud cat and never leave again. With her knees tucked up under her chin and her new “Nurse Appreciation Day 2043” shirt, she waited for her new best friend (with a shiny new plane with shiny new parts) to be released from the ICU. 

          It’s easy to get medical care when your sister is the head of pharmaceuticals. All she had to do was drop Carolina’s name at the reception desk and people were swarming to take care of the strange green-haired man. 

Valeria figured that if the strange man died in the Market, the location of his plane died with him. Valeria hadn’t gotten to see a nice plane up close and personal since she’d learned what parts people scrounge for. All she really wanted was for him to be alive enough to show her the plane—she didn’t think that he would make it much farther than that. There was blood coating an entire side of the man’s face, for fuck’s sake. 

           A nurse cleared their throat at Valeria, nodding their head in obvious communication to get Valeria to follow them. Valeria scuttled over to their side as they began to stalk down the hallway in silence, leading the way while Valeria trailed behind. Soon enough, as quietly as they’d appeared, they’d gone, and Valeria looked into the hospital room, taking a few tentative steps inside. 

          It was, indeed, the man who had sneezed blood down the front of her shirt. They seem to have taken good enough care of him—his hair was still a matted mess, but the bleeding from his head had stopped. 

          Valeria took a few more tentative steps closer. She saw a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and dark, dark eyebags and cheeks peppered with stubble.  

          As his eyes cracked open, Valeria stiffened. She watched as he groaned, scrunching his eyes closed and taking a deep breath in. He opened his eyes a little bit more, blearily looking around the room before his gaze settled on Valeria. His mouth cracked into a goofy, crooked grin. He mumbled, looking at the sky. 

 

“I lived, bitch.”  

 

          In moments, Valeria heard his snores filling the room. 

          Valeria leaned closer to the bed, all inquisitive eyes as she observed the specimen in front of her and the pearl necklace that brushed across his collarbones. Valeria glanced at the door and held her breath, deliberating for only a fraction of a second before unlatching the pearls and stuffing them in her pocket.  

          Valeria watched the pointy green arcs of Mr. Quicksilver’s EKG as he lay in the hospital bed. There was more of a probability that he would wake up with more memory than she had originally thought. It may just be a bad concussion. He would wake up and see her and gain his bearings, realize that he doesn’t know her, and he’d tell the doctor, and Valeria would get another lecture (via text) from Carolina about abuse of power or something of the like. 

But then Valeria thought about the plane and the latest cat model’s white noise extension and decided it was worth the risk. 

          She settled into the chair next to his bed. She’d wait for him to wake up, at least, so he didn’t have to wake up alone. 

​

⋆｡˚ ✈︎ 

​

          Valeria was crunching on her third bucket of ice chips when Mr. Quicksilver woke up. 

          Maybe. It may have been waking up. She didn’t really know what it was, but she did know that it was a disastrous cacophony of writhing and thrashing.  Valeria shuffled to the side of the bed, grabbing hold of the railing like she was at an exhibit at the zoo.  

          When he opened his eyes, he jolted on the bed, effectively knocking the IV stand off-balance. Valeria watched in silence as the stand teetered back, then forth, and crashed to the floor. She remained planted, looking back and forth between Mr. Quicksilver and the carnage he’d created. 

 

“Fuck, my head.”  

 

          He scrunched up his face and reached an arm up to his collarbone.  

 

“Damn. Some fucker stole my pearls, too.”  

 

          Valeria observed, standing on her tippy-toes as the pearls lay heavy in her pocket. Mr. Quicksilver turned to Valeria and squinted. 

 

“You saved my life, I think.” 

 

          Valeria nodded. 

​

“I owe you,”  

 

          He took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. 

 

 “A thank you, at least. It would be nice if I could see you, though, my stupid fuckin’ glasses must’ve fallen off while I was running.”  

 

          He began to feel for pockets on the hospital gown he wore, patting himself up and down. 

          Valeria took them out of her pocket, extending them to Mr. Quicksilver. He jumped again as she placed them into his palm. He fumbled, dropped them in his lap a couple of times, and placed them back onto the bridge of his nose. 

          “They were cracked.” Valeria spoke to him quietly, quickly, as if sharing a secret. “I fixed them while you were asleep. I added a micro-video extension to it, but that was just because I was bored.” 

 

“Well, uh, thank you,”  

 

          Mr. Quicksilver finally turned to face Valeria. She could now see a huge bandage on his head, near his left temple.  

 

“I’m Chip. Don’t remember if I introduced myself. Don’t remember much of anything, actually.”  

 

          He was mumbling. He weakly attempted to extend a hand to Valeria. 

          “Valeria,” she replied, ignoring his limp wrist and moving back to her seat. Chip defeatedly put his hand to rest on his chest. 

 

“Hey, listen, uh,”  

 

          Chip began to talk, taking in a large breath of air through his nose.  

 

“It’s a long story, and a fucked-up one, but I don’t have, uh, a lot of memories. From the past couple years, I mean, I know who I am, I think, barely. No one would’ve—could’ve—possibly known that I was missing or hurt, and I thought [no audio detected] I thought I was done for. Anyway, um, thank you. Thanks for sticking around.”  

 

          He gave Valeria a weak smile before thrashing in his cot and falling back asleep. 

          Valeria was at a crossroads. She chomped down on her fifth bucket of ice chips while Chip slept. He’d fallen asleep with his glasses on, and he was in much better health than she was expecting. He seemed nice, too—Valeria didn’t typically encounter nice people in the City. 

          He was missing his memories from the past couple of years. She could live with that.  

          Valeria told herself that this was one of the better outcomes. Not the best outcome by any stretch of the imagination, but a better one. It was Carolina’s voice that reminded her, always, that it could always be worse, hermana. 

But she had a responsibility now. She couldn’t just walk away, and she couldn’t stay here. Valeria hadn’t been put in a predicament like this for a long, long time. She hadn’t left her apartment for anything but the Market and the piercing shop in literal years.  

          The nurse rapped on the door, making Valeria jump. She slowly crunched down on another ice chip. 

 

“Ma’am.”  

 

          They smiled, stepping into the room and immediately fixing the IV stand.  

 

“So. Mr. Quicksilver’s awake?”  

 

          She nodded.  

 

“Doctor said there seemed to be some type of traumatic brain injury. It seems like he’s had it for a while now, though—did he go missing?”  

 

         Valeria shrugged. The nurse scrawled something down on Chip’s chart.  

 

“Likely a ripper. We’d need confirmation from the patient’s family or inner circle, but the location of the injury is consistent with a few other ripper victims we’ve seen in the area.”  

 

          A ripper. Valeria had heard of rippers—“doctors” that took vulnerable people off the streets and operated on them. The operation was largely dependent on the ripper—some harvested organs, some tested experimental cyber-ware, others did anything in between. Her look of horror did not faze the nurse, who clutched their clipboard to their chest and headed toward the door.  

 

“Press that button if you need anything.”  

 

          And the nurse was gone, and Valeria was alone again with the beeping of Chip’s heartbeat.  

​

⋆｡˚ ✈︎ 

​

          Chip wasn’t a snorer. He was a screamer.  

          Valeria learned this a few hours after the nurse left. An extremely loud sound woke her from her nap on the couch, and as she sat up, she saw Chip banging his head on the counter. Valeria blinked and licked her lips, squinting at her aggressor.  

          He made eye contact with her. 

          And in his eyes, she saw the eyes of her sister, frantic, searching for solace that Carolina could never find in Valeria or her mother. Valeria had replayed the moment of Carolina’s departure in her head religiously, and she’d recognize those eyes anywhere—desperate to make an escape—a caged animal staring at the open bars of its enclosure.  

          And Valeria’s youth stood against her as her mother planted her, helpless, in the foyer lined with big Garcia Grins, and Valeria knew, even then, hearing the heated screams of her mother and Carolina, that they’d never pose for a photo like that again.  

          Valeria knew as much as Sofia and Carolina were willing to offer, which was limited and skewed, and Valeria wasn’t a fucking dumbass, but they both sure acted like it. And though Carolina, after a few years of interning in underground labs with questionable funding to keep her head above water, had finally published her dissertation and had gotten her flowers through a stable job at the hospital, she never came home. 

          Sometimes, Valeria wondered if she had screamed or run out of the living room to grab Carolina or her mother, and if she’d wailed and begged Carolina to stay, if that would have done anything. But, no—Valeria, 9, only watched in silence.  

 

“GET THIS SHIT OFF OF ME—FUCK, NO, NOT AGAIN. FUCK. OFF. [LOUD VOLUME WARNING].”  

 

          And then Valeria was brought back to Mr. Quicksilver in the hospital. He was like a wild animal, frenzied and searching for the nearest exit as he ripped IV lines and EKG stickers from his body. His chest heaved up and down as he made indecipherable noises of despair. Panic. 

          Valeria leapt into action. She’d seen this film before. She’d been preparing for this. She stood in front of him, catching his gaze and raising a hand.  

          “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.” Comfort felt strange leaving her mouth. “You’re going to be okay.” 

          Mr. Quicksilver blinked a few times as he came to his senses, heaving and shaking and staring at his hands and the carnage that he’d created around him. He fell to his knees and raised his big, wet eyes to Valeria, parting his bleeding lips.  

 

“What should I do?”  

 

          Valeria studied him. He looked so thin and frail, drowning in his hospital gown. She stood up and shuffled over to him, carefully sticking the EKG stickers back where she’d seen them. She reached to take the IV from Chip, who flinched and pulled away from her. In his panic to get away from her, he managed to slip and fall. 

 

“Shit, ow.”  

 

          He closed his eyes, grabbing a fistful of his own hair. Valeria plopped down cross-legged next to him. She blinked owlishly at Chip before extending her hand again, palm-up, waiting for him to let her replace the IV. 

          “Let me help,” Valeria said. “I know how.”  

          Chip shook, studying her with an expression of woe before scooting closer to her, extending a trembling hand, clutching the loose IV needle. Valeria scootched closer to Chip, shifting onto all fours and crawling towards him.  

          “Hand,” Valeria muttered. Chip obediently stuck out his right hand, his wrist limp. Valeria took his hand into hers and made the mistake of glancing up at his face, just to see how he was doing.  

          His eyes were green, too.  

          A beautiful, vibrant shade of green with blue flecks on the outer corners and hazel blossoming near his irises. Unaltered, human green. Valeria didn’t realize she had gotten close, but there she sat, clutching Chip’s hand and staring directly into his eyes on the hospital floor.  

 

“Excuse me?”  

 

          The nurse stood in the doorway, rapping on the doorframe. 

 

“I don’t mean to intrude. A patient down the hall reported screaming.”  

 

          The nurse trailed off and left an uncomfortable silence in his words’ wake. Chip cleared his throat.  

 

“Uh, my IV fell out, but my friend knows how to fix it, I think, so we’re good.”  

 

          He conjured the only smile that he could—a wry one with an overlay of exhaustion.

​

“See? You can probably just discharge me now, honestly.”  

​

⋆｡˚ ✈︎ 

​

          The next day, Chip was to walk down the hall.  

          The nurses had told Chip that if he could walk down the hall without any major problems, he would need to vacate his room.  

 

“What the fuck is the deal with that?” 

 

          Chip spoke incredulously, knocking a gangly arm into Valeria’s ice chip bin and effectively sending the whole thing to the ground.  

 

“I just got here. They should want to take care of me, right?”  

 

          “No.” Valeria replied. “It’s a hospital. One time, I watched someone get discharged without any limbs. They don’t care.”  

 

“It’s suspicious that they’re letting me out so soon.”  

 

          “Not really.” Valeria shrugged. “They’re just like that. Always been like that.”  

 

“I’m on bedrest, though.”  

 

          Chip swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed and attempted to stand up. He wobbled, catching himself on the side of the bed, and gazed at Valeria with big, puppy-dog eyes. See? 

          “Mm,” Valeria responded, pulling her knees up to her chest. She tilted her head as Chip scowled at her and tried to take a step. The second he moved his foot up to take his first step, he went crashing to the floor, his IV stand quickly following.  

 

“Ow. Why am I so dizzy?”  

 

          He tapped his fingers on his non-injured temple.  

          Valeria stood, making her way over to extend a hand and help him up. He shakingly obliged, pulling himself up and throwing his arm over Valeria’s shoulder. He smelled awful.  

 

“You’re stronger than I thought you would be?”  

 

          “Not really,” Valeria replied. “You’re malnourished.” She looked up and blinked at him as he swallowed, nodding.  

 

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can walk.”  

 

          “I do.” Valeria put a hand over the arm draped over her shoulder. “And you want to get discharged. They’ll start treating you worse the longer you stay.”  

          Chip rolled his eyes. Valeria scowled.  

          “Stubborn. Just let me help you walk,” she insisted, taking a small step forward. Chip closed his eyes and sighed, nodding and hobbling towards the door. As they shuffled down the hallway, Valeria noticed that one of Chip’s steps was exactly one and a half of hers.  

 

“Ah, Mr. Quicksilver! So happy to see both of you.”  

 

          The nurse materialized in front of them, looked between Chip and Valeria, and scribbled on his notepad. They ripped off the first page, giving it to Chip.  

 

“If you could vacate your room as soon as possible, we would appreciate it, but the official deadline is an hour. Just drop this at the front desk on your way out.”  

 

⋆｡˚ ✈ 

 

“You should be excited to see my plane.”  

 

          “I am.” 

          Chip and Valeria walked down the hospital hallways, following the big red EXIT signs. They’d given Chip an adjustable cane, but even its tallest setting was too short for him. He groaned as the sunlight hit his face, squinting through his glasses. 

 

“No, like, really, it’s a fuckin—real fuckin’ piece of work. I seriously can’t believe I got away with it, I... [no sound detected] Wait, are you—you’re not a narc, right?”  

 

          “Why the fuck would I be a narc?”  Valeria asked.  

 

“Okay. Yeah, yeah, why the fuck would you be,”  

 

        Chip repeated it like a mantra. Why the fuck would you be? They walked through the now-barren streets where the Market hid from the day.  

 

“It’s just over here.” 

 

          They rounded a corner into an alley, and Valeria finally saw it. The plane. Chip’s plane. 

          It wasn’t what she imagined, but she would be able to get good use out of it. Maybe. Admittedly, probably not. It was much older than she was expecting, much dustier, and looked like it had crashed at least once. She nodded slowly as Chip presented the plane to her, reaching up and opening the door for her. 

 

“Look, see! It’s real! Cool.”  

 

          He spoke more to himself, laughing in near disbelief as he pulled himself into the plane. He kicked down a rickety set of steps that hit the ground with a clang. Valeria stood on the ground in front of the steps, letting her duffel bag fall to the ground.  

          “I should get back to my apartment,” she murmured, staring at Chip. 

Chip shifted in the door, plopping himself down in the doorframe and sitting on the steps. Valeria was surprised to see that his face had fallen noticeably, his brows furrowed as he gnawed on the inside of his cheek.  

 

“Oh. Um, listen, I don’t… [no sound detected] I can’t exactly go home right now, I’m pretty messed up, I mean, I don’t even know where I’d start.”  

 

          He sniffed, pushing his glasses up.  

 

“But I hate being alone, and you’re pretty good company, and I—”  

 

          He paused as Valeria climbed up the steps and sat down next to him. She smiled for the first time since she’d met him. He raised a hand, interrogating its place on Valeria’s back or across her shoulders, but decided against either. Instead of taking it or rejecting it, Valeria pressed his pearls back into his hand. She kicked her legs out all the way across the steps and he followed suit, knocking his foot into hers.  

 

“Shit, sorry.”  

 

          The City was not kind to Valeria.  

          Chip was.