“So, your device there,” Callie pointed, “it doesn’t connect to anything?”
Sparx rubbed Callie’s shoulder “Neither do we.Ifanything out here goes offline, including us, no-one would know unless someone wandered out here and found us.Or until the geostationary system comes back online in May.”
The polar sat system had been compromised by an escaped AI years ago.All wireless comms and data worked from tower arrays now on a frequency that was outside the range the satellites could physically broadcast – within the city.Waiting for the polar sats to crash and launching a new array would take time.If it was even worth it with a dwindling population.
“That’s kind of disturbing.”Callie hopped from foot to foot.It took a lot more energy in snowshoes.
Sparx nodded firmly “And that’s why they pay me what they do.”
“Has that ever happened before?”Callie tried to kick at the snow.
“Oh yeah, we lose someone every couple of years.A few people think it’s the skrae, but I’ve seen a few and they’ve never bothered me.”
“Skrae?”
“There are a few people that still live out here.We call them skrae.”
“Have you ever talked to one?”
Sparx shook her head.“I just see them passing by occasionally.I have no idea how they survive out here.Someone said they hunted, but I don’t know what.I’ve never seen anything bigger than insects.”
A few moments passed in silence.The snow seemed to both produce a low-level hiss and absorb all sound.It was freaking Callie out.
“Think they’ll put towers up out here?”Callie asked, as if a positive reply would bring connectivity back right now.
“I doubt it.The only thing out here are the turbines.Unless they figure out artificial wombs or we all start pumping out kids, we just won’t need as much power.We could lose two or three turbines a year and be just fine.”
“It’s kind of weird that hasn’t happened yet,” Callie mused.“You’d think it would, given that they can basically rebuild you every couple of years.”
Sparx shrugged.“To be honest, I’ve never tested out the womb part.Never had a pregnancy scare.I’m too old anyway.The last kid born to a mother over twenty-four was fifty years ago.”
“Would you keep it if you did?”Callie asked.
“Fuck no.Do I seem maternal to you?”
“Fair point,” Callie said.
“Also,” Sparx was clearly in the mood to rant, “why the fuck should I be guilted into having a kid just so these uber rich fuckheads can keep their cash flow?We already have no other options.It’s not like I can just pack up and move to another city.”
“There are a few mining operations further south,” Callie offered helpfully, glad to be talking about something other than dying in the snow.
“Yeah, but cyberware doesn’t work.And they can only handle limited bots.Cooling just can’t keep up.Besides, do you think they’d let me leave?”
“Probably not,” Callie agreed.
Sparx turned and headed toward the next turbine.Callie was about to follow but caught something out of the corner of her eye.In the distance she spotted a strange silhouette illuminated by the angry crepuscular light.It appeared vaguely human-shaped, but it wasn’t wearing a SubSuit.Callie thought she might have seen fur.
“Is that…a Yeti?”
“What?”Sparx turned to look at what Callie was pointing at.
“You know, a snow monster.”Callie knew she wasn’t the smartest person, but sayingsnow monsterout loud made her feel extra stupid.She thought she saw Sparx’s eyebrow cock underneath her mask.
“That’s a skrae.”
“That’sa skrae?”
“Correct.”
