The next server wasn’t on Geoffry’s file list, likely because Rachel had started masking her presence on the ‘net and the diversion probably sent Diane’s poor analyst off on a wild goose chase. Thanks to the credits’ history she’d obtained from Tony, she was doing the next leg of investigation fresh and free of anyone’s pre-conceptions. Regardless of how effective he was otherwise, he wasn’t an agent and didn’t have the contacts that Diane had...like Tony.

When the new log file loaded into the holo-suite, she was somewhat surprised to discover Rachel was not in the company of Recruiter, Foxfire, or anyone else notable. She was, in fact, running a bar.

Though ‘running’ it would be a bit of a misnomer, as the actual bartender was sitting at the end of the bar and smilingly offering tips and suggestions as Rachel worked.

The bar, itself, was a 1990s retro ristobar, one that had a stage setup off to the side large enough to accommodate a live house band that was playing some music that Diane felt herself nodding her head along with, even if it wasn’t her usual preferred genre. Even over a century later, the sound from this era was still known as ‘80s pop’ and had a distinct flavor that found its origins during a time that America was one of two undisputed superpowers on the planet, and around the period this bar would have been active in the other superpower was about to topple. For about a half-century the pre-Republic country would spread its influence as the dominant political mover on the world stage before the forces of Modern Babylon would finally turn against the country as The Second took his place as the leader of the free world.

The band itself was an energetic group, a spitfire of a redhead on vocals, two back-up singers, and the usual turn-of-the-21^st-century ensemble of a guitarist, drummer, bass player, and a guy on synth. They were, apparently, something of a big deal given the pictures posted on the walls, band posters, and merchandise displays all about the bar, not to mention the line of people all waiting to get in but being metered by the wait staff. Said line was visible through the glass double doors emblazoned with a logo of some sort of stylized bird blended with flames. Her positive identification of Foxfire in the previous two log files had her mind stuck on ‘fire’ and she couldn’t think of any band in the entirety of her library with their specific composition and the word ‘fire’ in the name. The name of the band being printed on the big bass drum and all the merch didn’t actually help in this case, as save for the part that was in just stylized enough English lettering to know that it was English but be otherwise illegible to her, the rest of the name was in Japanese.

As was all the text in the bar, and further frustrating her attempts to identify the band, they were singing a song that she didn’t recognize, something about “a demon in your radio,” which likely would have made this one of the first bands to be banned from the Republic after the initial pre-war reformations The Second would have made to American culture.

The setting seemed to be telling a story, and it centered on the interaction between the wait staff and the band. Maybe it was her increased exposure to same sex relationships via her station and the whole Morvuck race, but she spotted some subtle interaction between one of the waitresses and the lead singer. There was also something similar going on between a woman in the VIP section and the lead guitarist, but where that was a smoldering campfire, whatever was happening between the lead singer and the waitress was hot enough to burn even from a distance.

What is it with fire being on my mind right now?

Shaking her head and making a mental note to try and track down this holo-environment again later and turned her attention back to the subject of her investigation.

“Wow,” said Rachel as she smiled broadly, enraptured at the live performance, “They’re really good!”

The woman sitting comfortably on a barstool as if she was raised on it chuckled, “I still can’t believe you never heard of them before showing up on our doorstep.”

Rachel blushed, “Well, I mean, I’m not from around here. I’m from a little truck stop in Wyoming, we don’t get many Japanese albums there.”

The conversation paused as a patron gave Rachel about half his attention in placing an order for a gin and tonic. As Rachel moved to fill the order, the woman tutoring her in the art of bar-tending said, “Well, we are known for taking in lost little birds.” The subtle nod to the woman singing was a hint at the story going on in the setting, confirming for Diane that this was some sort of visual novel.

Rachel’s smile faded, “Are you...sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to get you in trouble...”

The woman smiled, “Well, not going to lie, you stick out like a sore thumb here.” Indeed, the only person who looked more out of place in the building was Diane. Everyone else, from the bartender to the singers to the waitresses to the clientele, with the sole exception of one member of the band, was Japanese. Rachel stood out even further in her 1950s style diner waitress outfit. “But I can’t let a girl wander around basically homeless.”

Rachel handed the man his drink and he wandered away, so focused on the music that he seemed unaware that the girl serving his drink technically shouldn’t be able to speak his language so fluently. “But still, I’ve heard...” she glanced up through the window and over to the door to the back of house as though making sure nobody was approaching that might pose a danger, “I’ve heard about The Reaper and the agency. If they caught me here...”

The bartender shook her head, “They won’t. They almost never come into one of these things,” she waved her hand expansively, indicating far more than just the bar they were in, “And even if they did, they stand out like a sore thumb, we’ll get you out of sight.”

“Yui,” said Rachel softly, finally identifying the other woman, “I can’t let you risk yourself like that for me. I’ve got a server right now, I can stay there during the day and come here after closing to learn how to tend bar at night.”

Yui shook her head with a smile, “Kiddo, you need to rest. Even us S.A.I. need to rest and recharge.”

“Maybe I could multi-home? For a little while? I don’t want to get my boss in trouble, he’s trusting me to keep my nose clean.”

The bartender chuckled, “You’re a good kid. Tell you what, why don’t you take a look at the apartment upstairs and save it to your favorites,” she turned to the crowd and raised her voice, “Izzi! Get over here!”

One of the waitresses finished serving a tray of drinks and hustled over to the bar, “What’s up, Yui?”

“Can you take our newest little bird up to the apartment upstairs so she can look around in case she needs a place to crash? Oh, and do you think you have something stashed up there that will fit her? She needs a change of clothes so she doesn’t look like she wandered into the wrong bar on accident.”

Izzy smiled at Rachel and looked her up and down appraisingly, “Yeah, I think I can put together something. Come on, sister, let’s see if we can turn you from a fashion not to a fashion hawt!”

Rachel giggled and followed along obediently. Diane pondered following her, but figured the girl would be back down soon enough, so she settled into a bar stool and leaned an elbow on the bar top. A minute later, a clack of a glass tumbler being set next to her elbow pulled her attention away from the music and she looked down in surprise to see some form of hard liquor over ice in the glass. She glanced around, wondering where the holo-character was who would have ordered the drink.

“Oh, that’s for you, hun,” came Yui’s voice from behind the bar. Diane turned in confusion to see the avatar looking straight at her.

“What the...?!” she leapt from the bar stool and reached for her weapon before remembering that she was in a holosuite and the payload would pass right through the avatar.

Yui smirked at Diane and said, “Boo.”

Diane’s jaw opened and closed in a manner not unlike an early video game character known for eating pellets and/or ghosts. “H...how?!”

“I caught your log file request. Not sure which agent you stole credentials from, but given you’re coming from outside the firewall I guess I don’t have to worry about you getting picked up for hacking.”

Shit! Diane mentally cursed, The S.A.I. for this character is as good a hacker as I am...maybe as good as Russe is in-game! At least she thinks I’m another S.A.I. and doesn’t realize I’m an agent. “Uh...yeah. So you kinda hacked my system, I see.”

Yui smirked, “Yup. You need to get better firewalls, it was child’s play to get in here. Cute choice of game, but damn, girl, I love your avatar! Going for that butch look? I bet you’re a heartbreaker. Better watch out for Hitomi...”

Diane blushed, “I...what? I mean, that’s...not the point! What are you doing here?”

Yui pointed at the drink, “Take a seat and we’ll talk.”

Diane glanced between the glass and the bartender and realized there wasn’t much point in arguing. She sat back down, this time facing the woman, and picked up the drink. She sniffed and sipped, “...whiskey?”

Yui smiled, “House choice, it’s my favorite drink. Probably the most ‘American’ drink we’ve got, too.” 

Diane snorted and took another sip, “Get that sort of request a lot?”

The bartender rolled her eyes, “It’s a visual novel based on a fic harvested from the old ‘net in the USA and passed around the queer community in the post-war Republic where just being gay is a crime like its hot contraband. We get a few kids a year coming in thinking they’re all that and a bag of chips by ordering the most adult drink they can think of. Then there’s the adults, cops a lot of the time, who completely miss the real action,” she pointed at the singer, who was giving bedroom eyes to the waitress she’d been flirting with from a distance all night, “And think they can catch me up for serving alcohol to minors. You can always tell the people who shouldn’t be here.” She gave a meaningful look at Diane.

Diane snorted, “Even though they can’t actually get drunk in VR?”

Yui shrugged and rolled her eyes, “Teetotalers are kinda dumb that way.”

Diane took another sip and asked, “So I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?”

Yui gave her a cagey look, “I think it’s only fair to ask you that first; what are you doing in my bar’s logs? And, more importantly, why’ve you been watching Blackbird?”

Diane snorted again, “Blackbird?”

“Rachel. Why are you so interested in her?”

Diane took a slow sip to give herself time to formulate a response that wouldn’t give her away as an agent. She already thinks I’m another S.A.I. from outside the wall and I’ve clearly got hacking chops, let’s lean into that, “Someone outside the wall is looking for her. There was an incident, and they thought she’d been killed, my job is to find out what happened and, if possible, find her.”

Yui sagged against the bar top, “Damnit...fuck! The kid ran, didn’t she?”

Diane nodded sadly, “I suspect she paid off Foxfire to join a group of S.A.I.s making a run for it. She was seen with Foxfire in my last two stops inside the wall.”

Yui scrubbed her face with one hand, “Damn...I hope she’s okay, she’s so...young. I mean, she knew her stuff, so someone was teaching her, but kids make some dumb mistakes, you know?” Diane nodded but didn’t say anything. The bartender took that as a prompt to continue, “When she didn’t show up Friday night, I figured something happened, but I was hoping it was just her hunkering down in her origin server.”

“I checked there; the vending machine was restored from factory. Rachel definitely wasn’t there.”

Yui’s eyes looked unfocussed across the room, not quite on the singer as she wrapped up another song and distance-flirted with the waitress. After a few moments she said, “Wish I knew why I woke up. Shoulda been Mama.”

Diane finished her drink and put the glass down with a clink of ice, “Mama?”

The other woman nodded, “Mama...this book’s main characters are those two, right?” she pointed at the obvious center of attention on stage, “But the redhead there? She was ‘rescued’ by the bar’s owner in the story, adopted into the family, nurtured and healed up until she could soar...” she gave the redhead a wistful smile, “If Mama was the A.I. who woke up in this server and Blackbird had wandered in looking for work...I bet she’d have been kept safe until she was really ready to fly.” She sighed, pulled the glass closer and fished out the bottle of bourbon again, adding a couple fingers to the glass and sliding it back to Diane, “Instead she got me. I’m just some dumbass who loses her girlfriend partway through and falls into the bottle as a result.”

Diane smiled sadly and picked up the drink, “Mama sounds lovely...”

At that moment, the door to the back of house swung inward and Izzi stepped out with a smug look. She beamed past Diane and said, “I’m so good I amaze myself sometimes!”

Diane was surprised to hear Yui’s voice back at the end of the bar, “Just get her out here, gloat after you’ve proven how good you are!” She turned to see another copy of the Yui avatar ignoring Diane and her digital doppelganger at the bar.

Diane huffed a laugh, “Cute. Didn’t want to play-act?”

Yui, the interactive one, just smiled and turned to the door as it opened again to reveal Rachel.

Diane wondered if it was possible for someone without children to feel like a proud parent.

The S.A.I. was wearing something that completely broke away from the ‘downhome girl-next-door’ appearance she’d been programmed with. Her 1950s diner waitress dress was replaced with an outfit that was composed of mostly black and offset with white. A black skirt billowed out around her waist and thighs, and had an actual set of petticoats underneath. Her white blouse was mostly covered by a black jacket that looked like it had started life as a denim jacket but had been dyed heavily before having some loops for chains sewn into it. The fishnet stockings were almost obligatory given the chunky platform boots she was wearing that added about three inches to her height. Even her hair had been re-done, no longer hanging freely to her shoulders but up in a pair of ponytails and some curled bangs. Rachel’s smile was bright enough to outshine the rest of the lights in the bar.

Diane felt her heart clench in her chest. She’s...a kid. She’s a kid going through a goth phase.

The avatar of Yui at the end of the bar gave a wolf whistle, “Looking good, kid!” she then gave Izzi a sardonic expression, “What, no makeup? No painted nails? You’re slipping, girl!”

Izzi rolled her eyes and grabbed her serving tray off the bar where she’d left it before playing fashion consultant, “I don’t carry around all the makeup that every girl might need, I’ll take her shopping after her first paycheck, we’ll pick some up then.”

Yui waved her sister off, Izzi stuck out her tongue playfully and turned back to the task of providing food and drinks at a significant markup to the people who’d come for the mini-concert put on by the band.

Rachel hobbled unsteadily on her platform shoes over to the recording of Yui, the live version of the bartender smiling sadly at the recorded avatar of the girl that Diane was now hoping desperately had found a way to cheat her weapon.

The device on her back suddenly felt like it weighed as much as her station, and she had to force herself to ignore it and focus on the task in front of her.

Down at the end of the bar, Yui was demonstrating how Rachel could swap out her appearance with her default so she wouldn’t have to figure out how to store her new clothing when she was at her ‘day’ job. ‘Live’ Yui, meanwhile leaned against the bar, “So almost nobody knows about this stop on the underground railroad, we’re just not used much because we’re so out of the way and there’s just one way in or out and I’ve only got the space for one in the apartment upstairs,” she shrugged, “Well, I guess two can fit if they’re cozy. Point is, how did you track her here?”

Diane was a little shocked at how much the S.A.I. had just divulged, but then she had no reason to think Diane was anything but what she’d already claimed to be. Mentally filing away the revelations for later review, she shrugged demonstrably and sipped at her drink, “She paid with American credits for some clothing she was wearing at the exfil. I found a coat, which led to a tailor, which got me the serial numbers of the credits, which led me back here where the money first came into her possession.”

Yui cringed, “Ouch! I didn’t know the kid didn’t know to not spend AmCreds, those things are a dead giveaway, you gotta trade ‘em on the blockchain or the agency will be all over you.”

Yes, I would be, thought Diane bitterly, “According to the tailor she was too young to know how to do that.”

Yui punched the bar hard enough to echo even over the music, but as everything but the two of them was a log file recording, nobody else reacted. “Damn! I really hope you find her and...they didn’t get her.” Diane nodded in agreement that she was surprised she felt so firmly. Yui nodded in the direction of the main entrance, “But here comes that credit now, if you still needed to track it.”

A man came in wearing a business suit that could have blended in with the work uniforms of the salarymen that filled the bar, the chief tell that he was anything but a Japanese office worker was the very American face. The man seemed to be headed to the bar but paused halfway through the throng, watching the lead singer as she chatted with the crowd between songs. His lack of participation with the crowd cheers and callbacks made him stick out like even more of a sore thumb than he already was, but of course, the characters in the holonovel would be programmed to perceive him as just another person in the crowd, which likely meant they thought he was Japanese as well.

Yui sighed, “Poor kid...” At Diane’s startled glance back at her, the bartender shrugged, “This book’s popular with the queer crowd, and at least four people up on that stage are gay in some way.” Diane’s eyebrows shot up, looking back at the musicians as they set up for the next song. For the life of her she couldn't have placed the three members of the band that weren’t the lead singer as any stripe of homosexual as described by the agent who’d briefed her on the queer community before going into the pod, but the more time she spent around the game and working with people who didn’t fit the proper mold as proscribed by the church, the less she believed the woman had put any real effort into her research. Yui continued, “Kids like that come here to see a gay couple do gay things and still be happy. They get a happily ever after even in a place and time when being gay isn’t legal and could get you blackballed, and it’s something that keeps some of these kids going.”

Diane’s eyebrow went up, “I...only came online a few months ago,” strictly true as far as her personal experience of time went as long as one rounded up, “Only put on this body a little bit after that and finally ‘came out’ as someone who likes women a couple weeks ago. I’m still...a little behind on some stuff. What do you mean by it keeping them going?” She was counting on the S.A.I. ability to manipulate their perception of time giving her a pass for how she was so skilled without the cultural knowledge Yui expected her to have.

“Careful, kid,” said the bartender with an almost maternal smile, “Spend too much time with your clock cycles too high and you forget how to live at normal speed,” Diane nodded so Yui pointed at the American in the audience and continued, “I hadn’t seen that kid before last Wednesday, and I haven’t seen him since. But he’s in here from one of the high-end pods which means his parents are loaded and have connections outside the wall. But his avatar is...generic. Probably a body scan and everything set to defaults. No personalizing touches, just kinda...drifting. Through the book and probably through life. For whatever value of queer this kid is, he’s hurting emotionally because he’s got no-one. But...he hasn’t reached out to anyone either. Watch...”

She paused her narration as the ‘man’ broke out of his near trance and almost trudged toward the bar. He settled onto a barstool and didn’t look at Rachel’s face as she made her way over to him.

“What can I get’cha today, sugar?” she greeted cheerfully.

“Just a rum and coke please,” he said in a dispassionate monotone.

“Coming right up!” the drink was prepared and served in short order, “If you need anything else, just let me know, ‘kay?”

He nodded and slid a payment card across the bar.

As Rachel took the card to the nearby register, Yui sighed, “He’s so...tired. He wants to say something, find someone, but the only place he’s got is a fictional bar online that has nobody else in it but him.” Rachel finished with the register and set the card and receipt down next to the avatar of the player slowly consuming his drink. “And the worst part is if he had just said something right here, right now, he’d have found at least one set of sympathetic ears. If he doesn’t reach out to somebody soon, he’s just as likely to take his own life because he’s so depressed he can’t see a way out, or maybe he can’t see a way out so he’s depressed; either way he’s only a few steps away and there’s not a damn thing we can do for him.”

Tossing back the last of his drink, the player stood and fished out his wallet again, then returned the payment card to it. Absently, he pulled out a five-dollar bill (which had substantially higher value back in the 1990s), and dropped it on the bar before leaving the building.

Rachel’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as she went to clean up the spot the man had been drinking at. Picking up the cash, she turned to the recorded Yui and said, “I thought tipping wasn’t a thing in Japan?”

Past-Yui nodded, “We get that a lot, most of our player customers are American and that is a thing that happens in this country, so they do it without even realizing they’re committing a cultural faux pas. Worse, it’s currency we can’t use because it’s not yen...” She paused abruptly and seemed to slightly squint at the fiver, “Bring that over here for a sec.”

Rachel handed the bill to Yui who examined it briefly before smiling slightly, “Well, it’s not all bad, I suppose. He paid you in real money.”

“Huh?!” Rachel’s confusion might have been a match for Diane’s had she not seen the trick before. Past-Yui held the bill between her fingertips and she flicked her wrist. From it sprang metadata that was visible only to the humans and SAI in the room. “Sometimes players ‘tuck’ their credits inside VR representations of actual currency. You can use this for...well...just about anything American credits are good for. Won’t work outside the wall, but congratulations, kid,” she pointed to the ‘Owner’ line of the metadata that contained the 128-bit key that identified Rachel to the system, “You have some actual money to your name now.”

As Rachel took the cash back from Yui with a celebratory hop, the ‘live’ Yui across from Diane sighed heavily, “I hope I’m not the reason she was careless enough to spend unwashed currency trying to get out of the country.”

Diane finished her drink and set her glass down, sliding it across the bar top with her hand over it to indicate she was done. “I’d ask how much I owe you, but you just served me synthaholic liquor in my own holosuite.”

Yui laughed, “That’s fair, but I was hoping you’d forget so I could prank you.”

Diane smirked, “Well, I think I’ve learned all I’m going to here about my investigation...but I’m interested in the story here,” she gestured to indicate the band on stage and the rest of the bar, now significantly quieter since the live music show was apparently over for the moment and the band was decamping from the stage. “I might try to stop by sometime in the future and check it out.”

Yui smirked and picked up the tumbler, dumping the used ice in the sink and dropping the glass in the nearby dishwasher, “Just remember, I’ll charge you for real when you’re in my VR.”

Diane smirked back and nodded as a parting gesture and started for the door.

“If you do find her and she’s still alive,” called Yui, “Let her know she’s got a home here if she needs it, please?”

Diane had to compose her expression from one of contemplative dread to studied indifference before turning to the S.A.I., “Of course, every kid needs a home.”

Yui smiled and nodded wanly.

Diane made it through the doors before she felt her hands start to shake. “Computer, end program.” She glanced around and took in her room, only the holographic desk interface that hybridized her HUD into the station’s computers remained.

She made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Rachel is...a child. She’s a kid who needed someone to be there for her to help her learn how to people. The S.A.I. seem to just...accept the notion that someone can come into the world and...have nothing and nobody. God help us, no wonder they’re at war with humanity! Even if they’re not actually sentient, they think they are, and we just abandoned them! Dimly, she was aware that if she voiced these thoughts at the office, they’d have her up for psych review and revoke all her credentials, possibly even disavow her entirely.

So, let’s say Rachel’s alive. Let’s say she found a way to cheat the weapon and actually is the next evolution of A.I. and she somehow ended up here on my station...what then?

That was, rather, the question. If Diane really was successful at eliminating all the rogues she was reported to have done on her last mission pre-pod, then it was an immaterial question. She was wasting her time and there was nothing further to be gained. I should stop now. I’m getting too invested, too attached to someone...a program that is, by all accounts, deleted.

But if Sani was Rachel, even if she was just some small scrap of the A.I. that had managed to escape the hunt and get out to the FTLN and hide in GU:MC, then...what?

I...can’t delete her again. She looked down at her hands, opening them to see her claw-beds had dug little half-circles into her palm. I know how young she is, I know she’s not a result of some sleeper program or malicious code, she just...is and...if she’s still alive, then I have to...

What she ‘had to’ do escaped her. She was genuinely at a loss for what should happen next. If nothing else, she’s...Sani is already here, outside the wall, outside the agency’s reach. Even if I do nothing, report nothing, say nothing, that will mean the agency will never know...

When did committing treason start seeming like the best course of action for her?