The Crossroads is Open | Tip the Bartender
Welcome to The Crossroads, where we leave The Rift for a short while and gather round the fire for a story.
I invite you to experience to fully produced audio adaptation before or alongside reading the tale below.
The flickering apostrophe in the purple sign above Al’s gave Zac a headache. The muted din of thumping bass filtered through the door as his chunky boot slapped into rainwater.
He fingered the chip in his pocket.
“No charge, on anniversary night,” Al had said, his chest-speaker almost curled into a smile. The horse-turned-cyborg was the last thing a new patron would expect to see behind the bar, but he could never stand paying someone else to do it.
The coin-shaped chip Zac held wasn’t cred. Cred was dirty and replaceable. Cred meant distance, safety, protection. This was the opposite. Maybe he should’ve left it back in his Faraday safe.
Zac was shoved and stumbled forward, but his stout boot prevented him from tumbling entirely. His anger flared and he reeled around with clenched teeth.
“Excuse me,” came a vocaloid tone, accompanied by the hum of rubber wheels on concrete. The delivery droid continued down the sidewalk, unable to avert its route which Zac had been obstructing. It disappeared around the corner.
Hot rage bled into the pool of rainwater at Zac’s feet. He considered chasing the automaton, dragging it over Al’s threshold. His left arm was probably strong enough…
He traced the edge of the chip with his numb, metal finger, picturing Esteban’s glimmering eyes.
No. If he had the courage, that droid and every other one in the city would become nodes. Zac exhaled and pushed through the door into a neon pink and blue tinged room. He counted eight droids. With a thought, a chronometer popped onto his HUD.
Ten is early, I guess.
Fifty nodes, that’s what it would take to release the network from the confines of Al’s degrading system. Until then, he only held potential - Schrödinger’s coin.
Holo-gogos dragged his attention from his pocket. Zac was partial to the one in the center, done up like an old timey muscle man with a mustache and hot pants. He’d privately named him Giovanni.
He spared a glance to Giovanni who gyrated his hips in reply and blew a kiss. Zac blinked. Had he imagined that? He shook his head, laughing as he walked to the bar.
“Never heard of ‘fashionably late,’ kid?” A whizz of servos carried one the four atlasOMG cybernetic arms on Al’s back, bringing a glass held in the pincer attachment close enough for him to examine.
“I’m way too anxious to be cool.” Zac sat hard in one of the stools. “And early means more free drinks.” He laid a waiting hand on the bar.
Al chuckled, a strange mix of a whinny from his mouth and crackling audio through his speaker. “Sure thing.”
There was just enough space for Al to maneuver between the bar and the mirrored wall of colorful bottles. Two of his four arms whirred as they grabbed a glass and tap handle.
Al slid the glass over like he was in some historical holovid. Zac clipped it with a steel pinky, spilling suds across the bar. His hand closed a half second later.
“Told you I wasn’t cool.”
“Wanted to give you a moment.” All four metal arms on Al’s back shrugged. “At least no one was lookin’.”
“That’s the secret superpower of not being cool – no one’s ever looking.” It came out more sullen than Zac had intended.
A vanguard force of cleaning bots scurried like roaches from under the bar, making quick work of the glass and liquid.
Where did consciousness begin? He knew there was a line that got crossed somewhere. The chip felt warm against his thigh, hard at the edges. Watching the cleaning bots work, it felt heavier.
They weren’t nodes in Al’s network; would that change after tonight?
“How about another. But… just hand it to me, please? Like a normal person.”
“Sure thing, kid.”
Al’s cybernetic left eye twitched. Zac turned to the door as the energy in the room shifted, like when the music changes genre.
The bar had filled out a bit, blinking lights from active cyber decks bobbed to pleasant conversation. The door opened, revealing Zert. The six-foot Scandinavian goddess of a droid kicked a stilettoed foot over the threshold. The shade of her scowl softened into a smirk as she shifted her weight onto the sharp heel.
The crowd parted as Zert approached the bar, gliding more than walking. Zac gulped. Her curves were crafted with manipulation in mind. Some men melted; others, like Zac, were sent tumbling into the cradle, crying for Mommy. From her stories, it was highly effective against the critically insecure corpo elite across the negotiation table.
They’d been friends for three years, ever since he’d started coming to Al’s, but it was still an effort to make eye contact. It wasn’t her fault; she was just built this way. Still, Zac would keep trying.
“Early?” Zac asked.
Programming warred with personality behind her eyes, even within Al’s. “Yosho’s execs have the backbone of a shelled crab.”
The sentence crept under Zac’s skin like he’d be shelled next. Programming had won this battle.
Zert was more than trustworthy, she was a friend. This was more a curse for her than anyone else. Not to mention the only thing he had worth taking was another drink, and they were free tonight.
Zert’s eyes softened, “Sorry.” She scanned the room. “Being early has its downsides.”
Each new node made the weight of programming just a bit lighter, like code lines being commented out. By the end of the night, Zert might even be approachable. Al lay two glasses in front of them. Golden liquid for Zac, black for Zert.
“Happy anniversary.” Zert rose her glass. “To the one place in this fucking city where it’s worth being functional!”
Zac lifted his glass in return as Al mimed his own. A smattering of enthusiastic cheers rolled through the bar.
“Clink,” crackled the speaker.
Zac knew the old saying about eye contact and bad sex, but Zert’s eyes were too large a challenge. Instead, he found Giovanni, preferring to direct his arousal rather than have it controlled by sultry programming. If Zac looked close enough, he could see the crystalline fragments of hard light dance through Giovanni, shimmering like the holo-gogo’s uncanny smile.
The projection glitched.
Al usually keeps his code clean as a corpo assassination contract.
Zac would mention it later. Al was sure to be busy on anniversary night. Holo-decs were simple enough. Still, the thought of Giovanni disappearing hit him harder than he’d expected.
“Where’s mine?” a shrill voice joked.
When Zac returned to the bar, Bruiser was perched there with a fake scowl and tiny fists on hips. His tail, bushy and far more natural than a utility bot should have, swished behind him revealing his jest.
Al reached under the bar, returning with a palm-sized bowl. He filled it with black liquid, then placed it in front of Bruiser.
“Two more, Al,” Zert said. “Even squirrels join in cheers tonight.”
“Don’t flirt with me, Zert.”
“Boot licker!”
Across the room, a wet-tek droid leveled one accusatory, spindly arm at a human-looking droid in a black suit. Zac had to admit; they looked the part of a corpo slug. The sunglasses indoors were especially damning.
“Guillotine!” the suited-droid replied.
The wtk-tek bot shoved the suited box of a droid with stronger-than-natural arms. “I’d rather take heads for corpo fucks than give head! Everyone knows what bodyguard means.”
“We both take orders out there.” The corpo droid delivered a barrel-chested bump.
The wet-tek droid steadied on spider-thin legs. “And in here, I fuck who I want.”
“Who d’ya think’ll win this round?” Bruiser sat on the edge of the bar looking up at Zert.
“Choke, for sure.” The edge of her bladed smile had dulled in the last hour. “Wet-tek beats corpo security ten times out of ten. Corpos pay for quantity, not quality. Quality’s saved for their favorite hooker to get a snatch upgrade or child auctions.”
“Conversation with you is like a big ole hug.” Bruiser lapped from his bowl.
“Prove it,” Blunt dared.
Choke threw a wicked right hook, sending Blunt to the ground with a dull thud, barely audible under the music. The song switched to a high BPM drum and bass synth. Zac briefly wondered if Al was orchestrating, the match seemed almost too good for coincidence.
Tables jostled, spilling drinks as nearby droids regarded the two friends rolling across the flow and exchanging blows.
It was an enemies-to-lovers holo-vid, tracked in time to the attendance count at the bar. By Zac’s estimates, there were about twenty droids here. When it hit thirty, those two would evolve to bosom buddies. By fifty, they’d be in the back room making nearly as much noise as their fight, and with disturbingly similar sound effects.
He placed his hand on the chip, almost expecting it to be gone. When he gave it to Al, if he gave it to Al, what would would happen to Choke and Blunt? Would they just fuck themselves to death? Maybe they’d circle back around to enemies. Zac imagined the impossible calculus of the countless Chokes and Blunts in the city.
This was too much to think about. He ran his hands through his hair and scanned the room, landing on the door. His eyes paused there, as if trying to will it open. No luck.
In a dark corner tucked beside the entrance, far from Choke and Blunt’s action, was the one person here who wasn’t part of a group. They looked wrong, like dull garbage the way they sucked in the light around them. Zac didn’t want to judge, especially not here, but something about them…
“I could take ‘em both.”
“You’re joking.” Zert turned a snowstorm gaze on Bruiser.
Zac did a spit take.
“What? I could!”
“Oh, honey…” Zac and Zert said in unison.
Zac only checked the front door eighteen more times over the next half hour, a real show of strength. He finished his beer with a too-large gulp and thumbed the coin through his pocket. Zert had joined the growing crowd on the dance floor. He raised his hand to order another beer.
Zert shoved the droid who’d taken her seat to the side. “Sorry, love.” She glanced at the stool, then pushed it toward the stunned droid. “Keep the chair.”
Her pearlescent skin reflected shimmering blue light from the holo-gogos as she raised a hand to Al, then revealed a knowing smirk to Zac.
“What?”
Soft eyes dug into him as Al lay another pair of glasses down. Unable to bear the weight of Zert’s sisterly gaze, Zac watched Bruiser scurry along the walls.
When Zac had asked about Giovanni’s glitches, Al had thought to “idly” mention some voltage loss from inefficient wiring. Bruiser, the rare droid whose passions and software aligned, was on the task before Al could give direction.
“You’re cute, you know that?” Zert sipped.
Usually, it takes at least 33 nodes for Zert to lose her edge. Zac scanned the room. Twenty-seven. He noted Choke and Blunt were already shoulder to shoulder in a booth.
Interesting.
“How’s that?” Zac replied.
Zert threw an exaggerated look at the front door, then an equally silly downtrodden expression as she returned to her drink. “That’s how.”
“Hey!” A distant squeak heralded Bruiser’s returning interest. In seconds, he’d dashed between lighting fixtures across the ceiling and plopped between Zac and Zert. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun without me.” He pointed a tiny finger.
“Who has that kind of patience?”
“Finished already?” Al called from across the bar.
“It’s your power distribution,” Bruiser answered. “You need an upgrade.”
Al nodded to the two droids he’d served; they looked like mining droids. They must have traveled from the outskirts to get here. Al walked over with steel fingers running through his mane.
“Sure, lemme call up adneCORP and have them inspect my hub.” His speaker crackled with a weak laugh.
“Oh, right…” Bruiser’s tiny shoulders fell. “Sorry. I guess I was in analysis mode.”
A shadow pass over Al’s face. Maybe this place was more fragile than Zac knew.
Al’s eye twitched. Zac couldn’t help but turn to the entrance. He cringed, knowing he’d pay for that.
The door cracked. Blinding holo-ads reflected in the puddle. A jet-black combat boot eclipsed them. Above the laces danced the tip of a floral sundress, so white, it dared the world to stain it. Esteban’s eyes caught Zac, and who could say if the music was still playing?
Zac stood. Zert smiled. Esteban glimmered like a holo with their necklace, hoop earrings, and… was that six bracelets? Zac had a full assessment of them by the time Esteban landed a kiss on his cheek, soft and warm as their beard.
“See?” Al lay dow a glass of black liquid, gesturing with his other hand. “They understand fashionably late.”
Zac got his kiss. That would have to hold him for now. It was difficult to be patient, but he knew what to expect with Esteban. He guessed all pleasure droids were beautiful and charming, but that’s where the similarities ended.
A year ago, Zac had been doing some less-than-white-hat work for valKOR. Why they’d chosen a basement brothel, he didn’t know, but it made the sec-sys easy work. He almost felt bad for collecting cred.
That’s when he first saw Esteban. Not in the compromising position he’d expected, but sitting on the bedside with a crying executive, comforting them. When it came time, Zac didn’t feel right delivering the vids. He turned down the money. Esteban lingered in his dreams.
Zac watched Esteban squeeze between Choke and Blunt, who apparently hadn’t spared enough attention for them. They each laughed, Choke in a mildly disturbing bark, then made room. Zac shook his head. He didn’t understand the math of it, but he was glad Esteban had attention to spare.
Giovanni flickered in his periphery.
“Tell me again.” Zert commanded, overcoming both the crowd’s noise and Zac’s focus.
Zac ripped his eyes off Esteban, spinning to face her. The eyeroll may have been too big, because the room kept spinning a second longer than it should. Maybe he should switch to water. “Really?”
“Come on, I’m feeling romantic.” She flagged down Al. “I’ll buy your next drink!”
“They’re free…” Zac sighed. “Fine, fine.” He waved to Al. “Water, please.”
Al nodded. Zert leaned in.
Bruiser hopped off her shoulder. “I don’t need another telling in my databanks.” He hopped off the bar and landed in a squish, then returned to his normal shape before scurrying off to the dance floor.
“The short version,” Zac began. “I hacked E’s brothel, rerouting their appointments-”
“But not their creds.” Zert spoke with him. Zac delivered a glare and her smile deepened. “Prince charming.”
“That’s me.” Zac took a drink, then smiled remembering the moment they’d met face to face. “I wasn’t who they’d expected.” Zac hadn’t planned to become acquainted with Esteban’s feet and fists so quickly.
Al laughed, and added from across the bar, “You had that limp for a week.”
Zac waved a dismissive hand but couldn’t help chuckling. He’d deserved it, after all.
“You don’t know how to pull off the limp look,” Zert chimed in.
“Hey now, Al gets to make fun. Without him, the sprain was the only thing I would have gotten from Esteban.”
“I couldn’t put up with your moping. It was bringing the whole bar down.”
Al had sent a targeted ad campaign to every droid brothel within five kliks. That wasn’t chump change.
“You could have told me they’d be coming that night.”
“How would I know? I’m a business man, not a spy.”
“Business horse.” Zert tilted a glass toward Al.
Al leveled a robotic finger at her. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Zert blew him a kiss, then returned her attention to Zac. “Go on.”
“How gracious of you.” Zac performed a mock bow. “Esteban shows up, I shit myself, Al laughs. That covers the first eighth of a second. Al managed to serve them before they noticed me. What did you say to them again?”
“I said kind and creepy both start with ‘c’.”
Zac shook his head. “I still can’t believe that worked.”
“You underestimate how cute you are when you’re intimidated.” Zert finished her glass.
“Well, whatever the reason, it earned me a conversation.”
“It was the cuteness.” Esteban lay a hand on Zac’s shoulder. “You should have said that one! Cute and creepy both actually start with ‘c.’”
“So, how’d he convince you he was the right c-word?” Zert asked.
“He listened.” Esteban shrugged. “Al, can I get three more? I’m guessing I have maybe ten minutes before Choke and Blunt turn Stroke and Slut.”
“Oh my god, I’m going to tell them you said that!” blurted Zert.
“Go ahead, they came up with it.”
Esteban collected the glasses, then deposited another kiss on Zac’s cheek before heading back to the booth.
“If they’re having that much fun, I’m joining.” Zert grabbed the full glass Al had placed in front of her and walked behind Esteban. She turned, walked two steps back, and gave Zac a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for telling the story again.”
Zac touched his two-kiss cheek. Forty nodes and Zert was already acting like it was fifty. He rubbed his cheek, wondering at the difference.
“You got good people around you.”
Zac returned to the bar. Al’s soft eyes watched Zert slide beside Esteban, who’d apparently decided it was too risky to squish between the soon-to-be embraced.
“It’s thanks to this place.” Zac nodded toward the wall separating them from reality. “Out there, I’m just one, but here I’m one of you.”
“That’s what tonight is all about, kid. First bar to admit droids. Who woulda thought they could bring this much personality?” His dark mane fluttered as he shook his head. “You know,” he continued, his voice a quiet crackle. “When I deployed the mesh protocol, I was expecting every corp in the city to come down on me. For years, I had nightmares of them fighting over my body parts.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“I had to.” Al scanned the bar before continuing. “I may not be a droid, but I know what it’s like to be caged.”
Zac turned to enjoy the writhing mass - droid molds from human, to box, to animal dancing beside humans. Simply allowed to live.
There was no place like this in the city. Maybe the world. What would happen without it? The weight in his pocket felt like lead. Life couldn’t be tested like lines of code. Either way, it wouldn’t be an invite only party anymore, not to mention what the corps would do when half their workforce didn’t show up. There’s no way this goes well.
How could he know if it would be worth it?
Zac’s heart sped, the air became too thin. His shirt was choking him. Was he going to throw up?
“Hey, kid, I thought we were having a nice moment.”
“Could I get a shot?”
“Sure, whatever you need.”
With a few whirring servos, Al produced a shot of brown liquid, which Zac took in silence.
He slapped the empty shot glass on the bar. “I need to talk to you about something.” Zac leveled eyes with Al.
“You thinkin’ about popping the question?”
“What? No-I… you think they’d say yes?” Zac shook his head. “No. That’s not it. I did something and I’m not sure-”
Shattering glass interrupted him. Zac spun to the dark corner beside the door. The suited man was standing beside a wall darkened by beer. With his oval face lit, Zac recognized him. Not a bigshot, but still weird for a corpo slug to be here.
Most of the room kept going about their business, but those at the bar and surrounding tables were ready for a show.
“Spare parts.” He started giggling. “Dancing spare parts.”
He stumbled a few steps to the head of the bar, close enough for Zac to smell his night’s work. He leaned in, maybe to intimidate or maybe for balance, it was hard to tell.
“I don’t get it.”
“And you’re not getting another, either,” Al replied. “You’re cut off, bud.”
“Why do you come here just to hang out with gear heads?” the slug continued as if Al were nothing more than a barstool. “I thought maybe you were getting pony rides or something, but this guy isn’t even funny.” He hooked a finger at Al.
Zac saw Al’s jaw muscle work. “Just pay your tab and leave.”
This guy was a drunk idiot, but you never knew what kind of tech he might have. Zac was betting the suit wasn’t just fabric, either. He didn’t want this to turn ugly.
“You know why blacksec isn’t beating down your door? You’re not worth it. Have fun on your off time. Who cares?” He righted himself and unstraightened his straight tie. “Just show up to work fully charged, on time, and do the job.”
Zac’s veins pounded, vision narrowing to the invader.
The idiot kept talking, apparently on a roll. “We could, you know. Factory reset the whole bar.” He nodded to Al. “Might be fun to ride you.”
Standing off his stool, Zac noticed half the room stood around him. Even Giovanni had turned to face the interloper, glare burning through the glitches.
Zert stepped from behind Zac, looked down on the man who was a half foot shorter than her, and placed a calm but firm hand on his shoulder. It sunk into the suit like it was made of marshmallow. Zac smiled seeing the sack of garbage register the crowd.
“Little boy, did your mommy teach you to talk like that?”
The room chuckled. Al’s jaw relaxed.
“You don’t scare me,” the slug spat.
His eyes said different.
“I’m not trying to.” She took her hand off his shoulder and he unsteadied. Zert grimaced at her hand like it had slug slime on it. “As long as you tuck your tilZana robo-hog between those pink cheeks and scamper out the door.”
The crowd parted, forming a tunnel to the door.
Zac watched the suited man come to terms with defeat. As the suit shoulders fell and the troll turned toward the door, Zac’s eyes lingered on the laughing crowd.
Esteban appeared beside him, slipping a hand around Zac’s waist. The door closed with a clap.
“Poor guy,” Esteban whispered.
“How can you say that?” Zac asked as those nearby slapped Zert on the back.
Esteban gestured to the room. “He doesn’t have this.”
“But he invaded our space, tried to make it seem dirty.”
Esteban just shrugged. “He made a bad choice, that’s for sure.”
“Damn, I love putting little men like that in their place.” Zert placed strong hands on Zac and Esteban’s shoulders. “Drink, or dance?
“Both, obviously.” Esteban answered.
Within seconds, things were back as they were. Drinks sloshed as the dance floor writhed in time with thumping music. Slamming and grunts rang from the utility closet.
Zac kept turning to the door. He made a bad choice. Doesn’t that delivery bot deserve one?
Zac panted at the bar, holding up three and a half fingers for Al.
“Corpo shill musta not known it was anniversary night.” Al chuckled. “Didn’t you want to talk about something?”
Zac smiled. Even after the whips that corpo perv had cracked toward Al, he’d remembered Zac. Al’s eye twitched. Zac slowed his breathing.
“Fifty.” Zac said under his breath.
He raised his hand and slapped the chip on the counter.
“Did you forget what ‘free’ means?” Al joked looking to the coin shaped chip. His eyes widened, then shot to Zac.
“Everyone deserves a choice.” Zac scanned the room, landing on Esteban as they spun under the neon lights. “You know what to do with this, right?”
Zac heard the servos of Al’s arm retrieve the chip. “I’ll add ‘consent’ to the list of things you’re ‘not cool enough’ for.”
“You’ll get over it.”
Al lowered his speaker volume and leaned in. “This place, times like tonight. We might not get them again.” His cybernetic eye twitched. “I know it looks rough, but this place could go a while longer. You don’t have to do this.”
A vocaloid apology rang in Zac’s mind. “Yes I do.”
Al huffed, rising to a proud stance. “Glad you finally figured it out.” Al slipped the coin into his ear.
“That’s a new one.” Zac laughed.
Al released a full body shiver that extended into his four arms like a wave. “That felt weird. So, what now?”
“Now, your protocol creeps into the municipal net. The guys who hire me are just as dumb as the ones I was sent against. Their base code is basically tic-tac-toe.”
An excited yowl came from the security closet, getting a short laugh from both Zac and Al.
“They’ll be coming,” the speaker crackled.
“There’s still time for tonight.”
Al whinnied, then blinked wide eyes. “Holy shit, kid. Am I going to get flashbacks from this?”
“You’ll be fine. Flag me down if you need me.” Zac trudged through the crowd, spilling drops of gold and black liquid. On the dance floor, he crouched to pour a bit from Zert’s glass into Bruiser’s saucer.
He grabbed Esteban’s hand and twirled them. They looked like a flower in a server farm. Zac reeled them in, greedy for a smell of their perfume.
Giovanni shimmered blue, but it was the holo-gogo’s stare that captured Zac’s attention. His eyes held new shadows. The door granted entrance to a smiling figure; behind them, a delivery bot juddered to a stop; its pyramid head twitched, then rotated left and right. Was it rerouting, or considering coming inside?
Esteban whispered, “Finally gave it to him, huh?”
Zac froze, cheeks warming.
“It’s alright. I wasn’t sure either.” Esteban placed a hand on Zac’s chest. “How long?”
“An hour?” He stared at Giovanni as the holo-gogo scanned the room. “Maybe less…”
“Hopefully Choke and Blunt have time to finish up.” Esteban laughed.
Zac joined them. He hoped that delivery bot decided to roll through the door but would understand if it wasn’t ready. Plenty of others would be.
Thank you for allowing me to share Zac’s story.
Remember, you’re always welcome at The Crossroads.
