The person spraying us down was wearing a full-body suit like Vivi's, except they actually used their helmet. While the entry hatch closed behind us, they began speaking in a language that I could not identify. It didn't sound like anything that would have ever been made on Earth. It was almost like a chant or hum interspersed with patterned stops.

  It was like someone taught a sine wave to speak.

  Vivi responded in the same almost robotic tone, so precisely pitched that I couldn’t even tell what her emotional inflection was. I could probably guess, though, given all the screeching she just performed.

  Unless that also had meaning, I didn't have an eight-bit sound chip installed in my brain, so I couldn't say.

  They had stopped spraying me, so I reached up, disconnected the rebreather tube, and pulled the mask off. Whatever liquid we had been sprayed with had seemingly vanished a few instants after falling off our bodies, likely taking all of the radiological waste with it.

  “Just curious, who nuked Toronto?” I asked.

  The two machines paused their beeping and booping to turn toward me.

  “Atlas decided to go for the nuclear option instead of accepting the loss of one of their primary Dust sources. Scorched earth tactics,” the new person replied with a sigh. They also sounded like a child, just like Vivi.

  I was glad it wasn't them. That meant I didn't have to find a way to kill them to prevent further harm.

  “You may want to start from the beginning because I have no idea what tactical or logistical implications that has,” I replied.

  They tilted their head at my question, then looked at Vivi, who shrugged in response and back at me.

  “How did you become exposed to Dust if you don't even know what it is?” they asked as they pulled off their helmet. "Every anomalous object or being has at some point been infused with Dust."

  Beneath it was a boy who looked, at most, fourteen years old. The first things I noticed were his blonde hair and green reptilian eyes. Did I just join a club for people with weird eyes?

  I had to think for a moment to realize what he meant by that, “You mean that gold stuff that feels fucking fantastic?”

  That would explain what was in the injector, because I'd been fairly certain, over the past five years, that it wasn't nanites. I was just surprised none of the scientists I'd decommissioned knew anything about Dust.

  Maybe that was even further classified than working with reality-altering entities?

  “You have a euphoric sense for reality-alteration?! Fucking lucky, I've only heard rumours of that existing! I'm stuck with thermoception. All Dust feels to me is like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Speaking of,” Vivi interjected, then began rummaging around in a bag I hadn't noticed her carrying earlier. From the bag, she pulled several vials of that golden-coloured substance that gave me shivers, all taped together, and tossed them to the boy. “That’s your and Aisling’s share.”

  “I mean, that still sounds pretty nice. Almost like an opioid,” I said, thinking back to when I was free. There are so many different synthetic opiates available on the market these days.

  Or at least, there used to be back when the city existed.

  “Nah, it's completely different. Like I can get too hot if I don't feel like calling on my Aspect to cool myself down,” Vivi replied.

  “Someone your age probably shouldn't be using opioids recreationally,” I said, only for Vivi to give me an odd look. “Biological age, not chronological or whatever you'd call it. You'd want to wait until you aren't at risk of permanently wrecking your brain chemistry. Had that happen to people I knew.”

  That had Vivi titter out a laugh, “Yeah, sure, maybe for someone who has to worry about something like that. If a bit of poison could hurt me, do you think I'd walk around outside without a helmet after a nuclear bomb went off?”

  That was fair, I wasn’t actually sure what she was capable of.

  The boy cleared his throat, “I believe you asked for information on the situation before Vivi derailed the discussion?”

  “Ah, yeah, assume we're both completely uninformed on literally anything you're talking about,” I replied.

  He seemed to notice that Aurin was standing next to me for the first time since we boarded the hovercraft. His eyes shot to Vivi for a moment before he turned back to me. I wasn't sure what that exchange meant.

  “Right, let's get out of the entryway. We can walk and talk,” he said before turning to walk down a passageway to what I thought was the cockpit. It turned out to be a long hallway, far longer than should have been possible on this aircraft. Apparently, they had spatially expanded the interior. I wasn't even sure if I was surprised or not. While we walked, he asked me a question, “Do you know what the survival rate of people who have been exposed to Dust is?”

  “I didn't even know it was possible to die from it. So, no. Like I said, assume I know absolutely nothing.”

  He turned to give me an odd look, “I was going to make a point about how it's around one in ten million, to explain how much of an asset this makes you as a show of good faith. But before we continue, I think it would be more expedient for you to explain how you were exposed to Dust in the first place.” His eyes slid over to Aurin, then back to me.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I noted that she’d been rather quiet since we arrived here and looked up at her. She must have noticed, because she reached out and squeezed my hand while tapping out a short message about how this was important to me, not her, but that she was doing okay. I squeezed back, letting her know she could speak up if need be. While that communication passed between us, I began recounting the past few years.

  “So, a few years back, I found out I had SIRS. You're familiar with the disorder, I hope?” At his acknowledgement, I continued, “Ended up getting lucky and found out Atlas was working on a cure, except it was still in the experimental stages and they weren't holding any trials yet. Managed to track down one of the employees working on the project through a combination of checking career development platforms for potential targets and a bit of networking. The employees not directly related to anomalous projects are on a surprisingly loose leash, and an NDA is really just a piece of paper when you think about it.

  “So anyway, I started dating this sweet guy who worked in the research division. Once I got him talking, he wouldn't shut up about what he was working on. Eventually, I told him about my issue and convinced him to help me out. Who would want to watch their significant other die in front of them, knowing they could do something about it after all? Even if it was a long shot, it was my only shot.”

  “We arranged for him to sneak it out and to meet me at a café. I don't know if Atlas caught wind or if an anomaly just happened to escape, but the thing that arrived… well, it wasn't Theo anymore. It handed me a sealed injector meant for my cerebral access port that I had installed to treat the symptoms of SIRS, full of that Dust stuff.” I said, tapping the back of my neck where the port lay.

  “Sorry, I just want to confirm. You injected a vial full of Dust directly into your brain without having spilled any on yourself beforehand? Meaning you had zero skin contact with the Dust prior to injection?” he asked, turning towards me with a look of bewilderment.

  “Yeah, those injectors are basically foolproof. I don't think I could have spilled any on myself even if I tried smashing it to pieces with a hammer. Why?” I asked in return.

  “That explains it!” exclaimed Vivi, “I was wondering how the fuck it was possible for a brand new, untrained Whisperer to perform a direct memory transfer. But you aren't a Whisperer, you're one of those weird Bearers. Oh man, I've never met one before. Could you sign my forehead?”

  She held out the pen she stole from me yesterday, an expectant look on her face.

  “You don't actually have to sign her forehead,” the boy said as we arrived at what appeared to be some kind of briefing room that was also being used as a supply closet.

  Vivi looked at him like he'd kicked her puppy. So I gave in and took the pen, writing a quick scribble on her. Then I put the pen back in my pocket, staring into her eyes while I did so to establish dominance.

  Heading inside, I found an ammo box to sit on in front of what appeared to be a half-built drone serving as a table. Aurin slid in next to me and rested her head on my shoulder.

  Vivi hopped on top of a locker to overlook the discussion. I felt like she just enjoyed being up high. The boy sat across from me.

  “So, what does being a Bearer actually mean? You thought I was a Whisperer before, and I assumed it was because I have a mental manipulation—what did you call it again?”

  “Aspect is the REB designation for whatever primary Dustwrought ability you gained. Every Aspect manifests differently to its holder, though obviously, there is a fair bit of overlap for the standard designations, as Vivi mentioned. Being a Bearer means you consumed Dust for the first time through a means other than skin exposure. In all recorded instances, this results in the manifestation of a completely unique Aspect. This unique Aspect is not necessarily better than falling into a standard category; it's just different. The survival rate is also much lower,” the boy replied, his tongue flicking out of his mouth for an instant. I added another point to the ‘he was a lizard in a past life’ tally.

  “You are incredibly lucky to still have an intact soul. It sounds like the daemon was trying to spawn another one of its kin. Whether this was at the behest of Atlas or not, I couldn't say. It is possible to bind a daemon, but I haven't read up on the subject. Bureau policy prohibits attempting it. Too much risk of soul damage or complete loss in severe cases,” he continued, only to freeze and glance around the room. As if realizing where he was for the first time, “It has probably been a long day for you. I apologize. Would you care to partake in a meal?”

  I glanced over at Aurin, but she just shrugged in response. Not moving her head from my shoulder. Her fingers tapped on my back in a meaningless pattern.

  “Sure, why not?” I replied. I wasn't a big breakfast person, so I could get through the day fine, but it was getting close to dinner.

  “Fantastic,” he said, and clapped his hands together. A smile broke out on his face for the first time since I had met him. “I also realize I have not introduced myself yet. My name is Makesi, and I am the leader of this Provisional Operation Group and act as the team's Sink. You've already met Anchor Vivi, our third member. Seeker Aisling is unfortunately busy with her duties flying the hovercraft. But I'm sure you'll meet her at some point in the near future.”

  As he spoke, he retrieved one of the flasks of golden Dust from the bundle Vivi tossed him earlier. He then popped it open and knocked it back. I felt myself tense at the action, only for several dishes to pop into existence on the back of the drone, which was being used as a table alongside plastic plates and cutlery.

  “Ooo, you went for the good stuff this time!” Vivi said as she hopped down from the locker and began filling a plate. “If you're going to splurge like this for the occasion, then we need to start finding more Dustborn.”

  “I will remind you, Vivi, that intentionally inducing Dust transformations is a violation of the REB code of conduct section 7.A.” Makesi said, “Also, leave some for Aisling, or I'll have you thrown off the aircraft for insubordination.”

  “I will have you know I am an upstanding Contractor with a stellar record, and the implication of your statement wounds me. For I have never once been caught breaking code,” Vivi replied, and I could feel her adding a lot of mental emphasis to the word ‘caught’.

  “How are you both able to spawn food into existence? I thought that was just something Vivi was able to do with her Aspect,” I asked as I filled a plate. Just for today, I decided to avoid any meat dishes. After what I went through, the idea of eating any meat made me feel sick.

  I could still smell that greasy rot in the back of my throat, even though I knew for sure that I was clean as a whistle. Other than the blood. I looked down at my sweater, which was still covered in dried blood, frowning. I'd need to clean it at some point.

  Aurin decided she didn't care and went for some kind of fried meat sticks. More power to her, I suppose. I did build her mind to be incredibly resistant to trauma.

  “Any Contractor in the employ of the Reality Enforcement Bureau is granted access to The Stream. A system designed to allow access to whatever the user might desire, in exchange for a fee of Dust. Assuming the Threshold State of the world would allow for it, and you have unlocked the prerequisite Manifest,” Makesi replied, flicking his tongue out between bites of some sort of pasta dish.

  I felt my stomach sink at his words. My worst fear was coming to life in front of me.

  “Oh, you technically work for an interdimensional same-instant delivery Amazon. Cool, cool, cool. I see I must have died at some point and ended up in hell,” I said, curling up into Aurin and closing my eyes to hide myself from the corporate nightmare that was my entire existence, apparently.

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