Monday Flash Fics — Argot Status Green
It’s possible that when I saw this week’s Monday Flash Fics prompt, I found myself in a sci-fi place again. I’m not sure what’s with me these days, as that’s not my go to style, but the idea wouldn’t leave, and the way he was holding the satchel struck me. Also the hat.
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Argot Status Green
“Helping to me to location find?”
The frown on the male’s face made it clear that this was not quite a correct translation. Also, the male’s eyes widened.
My lens display highlighted the movement of his eyes and scrawled information across my vision: Surprise/Amusement. Well, duh. I’d already realized my garb wasn’t quite right. If only there’d been time for covert data mining.
“I beg your pardon?” the male said. He was very young, perhaps not long past adulthood.
Across the lens, his words were translated for me almost instantly—inbound translation was at least fifty percent ahead of outbound, as usual. In the corner of my vision the argot status circle pulsed from a deep orange to a pale amber. Aha. Progress was being made. Attaching to the local signals for a communications database was difficult. None of the locals within range used portable communication devices, and my AI was left mining weak airborne transmissions as fast as it could create discrete connections and parse low tech signals.
My dialog phonetics line updated. Some of the sounds were similar, but there were differences.
“Would you help to me find to a location?”
“You’re lost?”
“Agreed.” I reached into the satchel I’d fabricated on the ship, and pulled out the map. It had been taken from orbit, zoomed in, enhanced and the specific point was marked.
The male stared at the map. Despite being amused and taken aback by my lack of coherence and—I was pretty sure—having misgivings about my garb, he was taking my request seriously. This was the first individual I’d met like this all day. Others had been rude, dismissive, or scornful.
While he looked, my AI tried to translate the lettering on his own garb, but there were too many possibilities for what “ACT UP” might mean to confirm clear communicative intent.
“You want to head that way,” the male said, pointing. He rotated the map and traced a finger along the pathways.
Another update to my phonetics line.
“I am thanking you.” I held out my hand, as per the suggestion on my action line.
He eyed my outstretched hand, then took it in his own and pumped it twice. An interesting gesture. “You’re welcome.” He eyed the map. “I’ve never seen a transparent map like that. Is it for an overhead machine?”
His question lacked appropriate context to be clear. I read my phonetics line.
“From above, correct.” I bowed in thanks, and he returned the gesture with an odd little smile my lens denoted as once again amused.
As I left, my audio implant caught him telling his friend I was “crushable” which seemed unlikely given my nanotech, but perhaps it was another linguistic misrepresentation.
By the time I made it to the bolt hole of my quarry, the argot status circle was starting to be a pale green. I was attracting too much attention, and pulled the head covering a bit lower. Most people wore darker colours, and the vibrant red of my upper body wear seemed less common on males.
The lock was mechanical, but nanotech had been added to the bolt. At least I knew I was on the right track. My AI was struggling to find even minor signals, and had been for a while. Scattering field. Luckily the scattering field had stuck out on this backward planet enough for me to get a general idea of where—and when—I was to look.
I hated temporal shifts. I hated being out of the present.
He fought—they always do—but one positive of the satchel was being able to carry a larger weapon. Even a glancing shot with the stunner knocked him cold. I placed a retrieval node on him, and he vanished up to the ship.
Data flashed across my lens. I swore.
The quarry worked with seven known associates. All of which were missing, and no sign of their presence nearby.
I sent a request for a planetary-wide scan. It would take a while. At this point in time, this planet had a rudimentary capability to detect an orbiting vessel.
There was an object in the corner that appeared to be a viewing screen, if a bit bulky. I activated it while I sought out the scattering field, and finally locating the device, switched it off. The AI connection to the signals coming to the viewing screen lit up. The argot status circle darkened to a rich green moment by moment. Finally.
An alert came from the ship’s computer. Trace readings of scattering fields, but they had an odd drift. The data crossed my lens.
Temporal shift. Not a high tech one. They’d be within a decade or so. And not high enough tech to go any further back. The fellow I’d just captured must have anchored them here, and then the rest leapt ahead some amount. Still not all the way to the present. I’d still be working on my own.
Why was it never easy?
I sighed.
I left the building and began making my way back to the area I’d arrived.
“Hey faggot!”
My lens translated with a warning icon. Dodging the attack from the first of the three males wasn’t difficult, and when they co-ordinated, it was still within my range of ability. My nanotech nudged my adrenals and my attention focused.
They were larger and stronger. Still, this likely wouldn’t be an issue.
They spread out, still taunting.
And then a wooden placard with a familiar declaration—“ACT UP”—was brought down hard on the head of the first assailant. He stumbled, and the other two realized the young male from earlier was involving himself in the battle.
This was inconvenient, though I admired the young man’s spirit.
It took only three more moves to deal with the assailants, thanks to discrete stuns from my fingertip nanotech. When all three assailants were leaning against the brick walls, groggy and confused, the youth with the now-broken sign stared at me.
“How did you do that? You just touched them and they passed out.”
My dialog phonetics line was written in sold, dark green.
“I’m a martial artist,” I said.
He blinked. “Wow. That’s…cool.”
“I’m afraid I need to go,” I said.
“Yeah, we should go before the cops get here. You’re right.” He grinned. “I guess I didn’t need to follow you after all. This hasn’t been a good place. Bashers.” He gestured. “Well, obviously.”
Even with a perfectly green argot rating, this didn’t quite parse, but I smiled and we started heading quickly back the way I’d come.
“I’m sorry about your placard,” I said.
He eyed me. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I am not.”
“Well, you’re cute, and you’re handy in a fight.”
“Thank you. You are also very attractive.” I was surprised he’d said so, as this area of the planet seemed to be organized in differently gendered pairs.
He laughed. “So, where are you headed?”
“I’ll be here, but in about a decade.”
He blinked. “Wow. That’s…” He shook his head. “When do you leave?”
“Soon.”
He sighed. “Just my luck.”
Between the biometrics of his tonal range, the movement of his eyes and set of his shoulders, my lens declared this a statement of disappointment.
“Do you intend to be here in nine point six years?”
He eyed me, and lifted his ruined placard. “That’s the idea.”
“Then I will see you then.”
He laughed.
“I am Ahn Elek.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard a name like that before,” he said. “I’m Joey. Joey Brown.”
I held out my hand again, more confident in the gesture. When he took my hand, I activated the fingertip nanotech and my scan ring and got biometrics, intending to mark him.
Alerts scrolled across my lens.
He was the first of his kind to be remotely kind to me, and had bravely followed me to defend me into an area where he’d known I might be in danger. On instinct, I delivered a small pulse and he blinked heavily.
“Woah,” he said.
I helped him to a public wooden seat, without letting go. I sent a seeding of nanotech into his bloodstream through our contact while he recovered from the mild stun.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Do not be,” I said. We sat for a moment. I continued to keep my hand in his, my other hand now placed on the back of his neck.
My lens alerted me: I was nearing the point of having depleted all my backup nanotech into Joey Brown. It would take weeks for them to replicate back to safe redundancy levels.
That was fine.
While we sat there, a few passers-by eyed us with varying expressions. Much of it was hostile.
After a few moments, he looked at me. “Thanks. I feel better now.”
I broke off contact. “So,” I said. “Joey Brown. I will see you in nine point six years?”
“It’s a date,” he said.
I nodded.
“Make sure you eat,” I said. “You will be hungry.” The nanotech would use excess materials to speed up their own replication, and with only their own base AI to work with, their range of augmentation would be limited, but it would be more than enough to counteract the infection my ring had detected.
“Okay,” he said. I was getting used to his amusement, and fond of its occurrence.
We rose, and I offered my hand again. Instead, he pulled me close with both arms and wrapped them around me. I exchanged the gesture with him, squeezing with equal pressure, and then he let go.
“You should probably get my number,” he said, rattling off a series of numbers. I had my AI take a note.
“You want to write that down?” he asked.
“I have memorized it.”
He laughed. “Nice to meet you, Ahn. I’ll see you in… nine point six years.”
We parted.
Once I was out of sight I returned to my ship and enacted the shift. This time, the technology of the planet was far more conducive to information gathering. What a difference in nine point six years. It would take time to find the scattering fields again.
The update for garb appeared on the screen. I decided the hat was within range enough of acceptable—I quite liked it—and updated the satchel. And though the new upper body covering was far less ornate, I kept the bright pigment. I liked the shade.
The AI updated information across my lens about “ACT UP” and located current whereabouts of a Joey Brown. The number he had given me was linked to a personal communication device, and though it had been changed since, the old was easily connected to the new within an archiving system. It linked to an address.
The AI also suggested that to deal with seven more targets—of which only one was so far detected—I might consider utilizing a local better able to navigate.
I had to agree.
I printed another map with Joey Brown’s location marked, and went down to the planet.
