She’d been right, though. The tournaments had grown in recent weeks, more non-Eyesore sparrers and more match-ups between enhanced and non-enhanced sparrers. She knew he hated the David and Goliath stuff, joked that he just stopped by to watch her kill herself. Actually, it was just the opposite.

Rolle had turned down a few drinks that night from old sparrers who told him he was crazy, asking why he gave it up right as the sport began a resurgence. Each time, he politely shrugged his shoulders, knowing they wouldn’t understand. Only Grace, so sure of what she wanted herself, really understood. He’d ceased doing something that he no longer enjoyed, that he couldn’t change. When he watched the others spar, he didn’t wish to trade places with them.

Grace gave him a sweat-damp kiss on his cheek. “Nice of you to stop by,” she said.

“Just on my way to work,” he said. “Try not to visit my office later tonight, okay?”

“I promise not to get slaughtered until after you’ve clocked in so you can be the one to stitch me up.”

As he left the sparbar, Rolle tried not to worry for her. She knew what it would take to win and, for the first time in a long while, Rolle thought he did too. For him, it meant med school. Next year. Night shift pay going to applications money. It gave him hope. Hope that he’d be accepted to a good school in the fall. Hope that he’d get a job to pay off the loans when he finished. Hope that Grace would see fit to keep an Eyesore boyfriend around a few more months, maybe longer. It wouldn’t come easily, but he’d chosen the long-term battle over the quick ones. More delayed pain. He called it a victory by decision.

One forgotten adventure

I HAD LITTLE CHOICE ABOUT getting jacked. I got my first cybernetic device plugged into my cerebellum so I could get a job as a mining scout. I wanted to return to the family business as a space jockey instead of a roid rat like my poppa.

The procedure went well enough, I suppose, but the medic was dreamy, and things just kind of happened. I mostly grew up on my poppa’s ship, see. Mining barges aren’t known as the most private places, and it’s not like I had had much experience with men. It wasn’t my fault I lost my new ship.

There he was, his thin fingers tenderly stroking the lines of a funky tubular gun. He was irresistible-so attractive, so androgynous-a nice change from all the mining hacks I’d grown up with.

“What’s that you’re holding?” I asked him, a bit nervous about jacking an ocular.

He leaned against my medical pod, with a skin-tight black jumpsuit with gold cuffs. The golden icon worn by all high citizens was emblazoned across his chest. That was it for me.

“This is a brand new CI unit. It’s brilliant,” he answered in an offhanded but cheerful way.

“See-eye, that’s supposed to be cute or something?”

“It stands for cyber installer,” he smirked. “You’re in luck to be the first patient in our clinic to have this privilege.”

“What privilege?”

“I will be using this brand new implement on you. Organic aesthetic, isn’t it?”

“Really, you gonna jack me with that?” I asked, feeling the muscles of my neck tighten.

“There’s always a first time for everything,” he chirped.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I can assure you the CI has been virtually modeled,” he said as he walked confidently towards me. Christ, I would have gotten out of that pod right then and there, but the cool markings that ran along his temples got to me. They led to his sparkling eyes. I’m not talking metaphorically, they actually sparkled, probably the result of too many components in his skull.

God, he’s cute and he must be rich, I thought as I stared at him.

“Well, shall we proceed, Daria?”

“I suppose,” I agreed. I should have known right then to stay away from him, high citizen and all.

“It’s quite safe,” he whispered in my ear.

“I bet,” I muttered, scared out of my wits.

His eyes, right in front of me, shined like the minerals embedded in the dark sooty asteroids my family used to mine. They brought me back to my childhood-the drumming of the barge’s engines, the smell of grease and ozone, flashes of drilling beams cutting through the darkness of space. I imagined my poppa standing by a port window, looking into what he called

“the endless, unforgiving void.”

I remember the day when he spotted what every miner dreaded.

“Poppa? What’s wrong?” I asked. I was only a kid, you know, and it was a really, really shitty thing to happen to anybody … Christ.

“Raiders,” he yelled. “Go get safe, Daria.”

***

I woke up in that medical pod all confused. I’m thinking, my poppa spent his whole life saving money for one of those barges. “Go get safe” were his last words to me … that was the day I became an orphan, see.

“Hello there, Daria,” the medic said, reading my chart.

“Where’s my poppa?” I cried. God, I hate getting sentimental like that.

“Hey, take it easy.” The cute medic stood over me all smiles.

“Sorry, I was dreaming or something,” I explained and sat up too quickly. The room spun. The dark metal, soot and grime of the mining hulk my poppa was so proud of were still all around me. I brought my hand to my eyes as the light was truly harsh. I took several deep breaths, and slowly looked around the medical bay.

“Congratulations, you now possess enhanced visual acuity. Welcome to the cyborg club.”

“Why is it so bright?” I asked.

“Not unusual,” the medic began to explain. “The photosensitivity is an effect of your improved level of perception. You will get used to it. I think you should rest here a bit longer.” He shot something into my arm and I zonked out.

***

The way the ship was reacting, I knew these were no ordinary raiders. The mining barge shook violently as more electro-charged slugs slammed into us, hurling me against a power relay. The hull rupture alarm sounded; that’s the last thing you want to hear when you live in space. I stood up and looked around. My poppa had gone off somewhere.

The barge began to tilt fast, so I went for the wall that was coming at me. I slammed into it and clung to the grating. It’s no fun when gravitational arrays go haywire like that. More weapons smashed into us … then more. The hammering slugs, the gravity fluxes … I’m telling you, that’s not anyone’s idea of a good day.

Someone picked me up and carried me in a different direction. “What are you doing? Where’s poppa?” I yelled.