Chapter 1: Ghost of an old friend

The avenue was a deep, infinite crevice among the black skyscrapers. Sun betrayed its existence as a green reflection on the solar panels. As his wheelchair glided down the empty avenue, Tchokov likened them to the archaic computers, green glyphs on a black screen --even older than himself.

With trembling hands he lit a synthar. He exhaled and watched smoke and vapor separate as the latter condensed quickly. Despite his thick coat and heated chair he was feeling the cold in his bones. He let out an unintelligible curse.

“I remember the time when they built the first one. It was on 14^th and 3^rd .” he croaked - slowly emphasizing every word. Dry air was burning his throat. “ An intimidating slab of granite, not this new verre-verte. A building without doors, without sound, without stench. Sterile,silent, sentient. It worked beyond expectations.”

"I guess glass is less intimidating than granite." said his companion absently. Tchokov kept his gaze on the avenue. “Don't get me wrong” he said “ the battle was already lost. Did you remember the Spielberg movie Saving Private Ryan?”. “I just /grebbed/ it” “There is a scene where one soldier puts another one to the knife after a fierce struggle. He shushes him like a child as the knife goes in. The first 'craper was not the knife, it was the shush.”

“It was all Dall'a nonsense and you are dramatizing ” said Mehcq “Where you see death I see ascension. And the streets are probably empty just because it is freezing out there. ” Tchokov did not reply. “You know what” said Mehcq changing the subject with a voice part mischief part arrogance “ I have not felt cold for ages”. Tchokov, already not feeling his feet smiled bitterly and shouted “Fuck you!” at the same time. Mehcq went on unabashed “No, but seriously, I feel hunger with its very human urgency when my energy goes low. Occasionally, I feel the anger that is associated with it. But I do not feel cold..I can't even remember how feeling cold was. It must have been lost somewhere in translation.”

Tchokov did not reply - trying to think what it was like to be Mehcq was overwhelming. He had to remind himself constantly that "it" was not his old friend talking to him - it was a ghost serving an alien master. "Look, I feel stupid, but you have to explain me that plan of yours again. Since I woke up, I feel I am spinning in a constant whirlwind and nothing makes sense."

"I understand" said Mehcq. "Maybe this can help you to orient.". Screen of the wheelchair lit up. "What is that?" asked Tchokov. "Oh - you'll like it" said Mehcq " You wrote this just before you died."

TO BE CONTINUED