Page 321 of Light Leech

”–drones have since lost their skyride’s direction due to security interference, but do not worry. We aim to provide any further coverage on Naoma’s return beside the political activist, Petya Nebokov.”

The coverage ended. Before she could speak, I moved to a suggested option titled: Who is Petya Nebokov, Naoma’s newest lover?

Neither of us spoke through the Haven Health ads that played before it.

An option appeared. Would you like to fast-forward to personal relevance?

I selected, yes, thanking the AI interface for one of the rare times that it was useful, despite the lack of privacy.

“This Petya kid was just another wannabe who saw what the Republic had to offer and let that corrupt his view of his home because he wanted the light we have here. I don’t have time to cover all his flaws, but links in the description below are only a fraction of the evidence that proves that this kid had no idea what he was talking about. He lucked out on the algorithm and thought that he understood his president’s motivations. I’m sure once Haven Health executives see how his political lunacy opposes the current extraction effort alongside Pavtov, his deportation will be expedited.”

I was fuming and would have broken the coverage in half, had it been on a screen before me. The smallest ounce of patience I had held me back from exiting as I selected the next portion of the video: A false account of immigration detainment.

“Prior to Nebobov’s disappearance, he left an account of his detainment experience while trying to leech off of the Republic’s resources like many other supposed ‘refugees.’ If you want to see my arguments elsewhere regarding Pavtov saving his country from economic and political disasters, you can check the link in the description.”

My frustration almost exploded into laughter as this supposed political commentator lost all credibility.

“First red flag, Nebokov omitted the name of his detention center in his final report to his anti-Pavtov cult. A string of theories can be listed as to Nebokov’s method of illegal Republic entry, which any affluent out-of-touch influencer could have attained. To dramatize his story, he listed being sleep deprived, starved, and kept in filthy unlivable circumstances. Multiple forms have responded to his claims in anger, leading to violent actions towards the Republic’s immigration enforcers.”

I ejected from the Neurospace, slamming my fist on the seat. I never wanted to lash out in front of Naoma.

I thanked God, not the pitiful lie of lucre that these fools prayed to, that Naoma held to me. Zeg the Light. It was as much a fabrication as any of this shac’s claims against me. Akna’s Cross following had awoken me to the faith I had forgotten. I was done praying to the Light.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a soft caress as comforting as my lost mother.

“It’s–” I shook with clenched teeth. Zeg it. I can’t take this. I can’t risk this bleeding out into the hunger that was rising into me. She couldn’t see a ravenous hunger ever again.

I tapped a worrytab and let it dissolve my hatred and wrath.

I sighed and leaned forward. I realized she was still linked to my neurosystem. She had seen the cause of my sudden relief.

“I don’t blame you,” she said.

If she could stay with me now, I was sure she would be there to comfort me with the crashing after-effects of a worrytab’s withdrawal.

I laughed, frustration still apparent like a stain on a smoker’s teeth. “They called it extraction. A whole zeggin’ war. Terrorism. They call it ‘extraction.’ I can’t even argue with this guk.”

I looked up at her, feeling a sting in my eyes.

“I believe you.”

I laughed. Had I not taken a worrytab, tears would have flooded my face. I think some still broke through.

I believe you. That was all she needed to say to give me a slave with more potency than any fix.

I didn’t need to explain how much I had suffered or how much of a viper Pavtov was to have worked his way into the nation I once thought to be safe.

Clutching Naoma, keeping my burdens hidden behind the comfort of her presence, I recalled a promise I had forgotten. Without Deleon or Cut to provide the investments, the promise was mine alone.

Gongtide or not, I could not let any more Republic-bound refugees suffer as I had. I could not let their trials become trusted into propaganda like I had just witnessed.

Hope was present, but there was only so much I could accomplish. Not only was time finite, but we were yet to understand the Bite’s effects on longevity. How long could my body withstand a diet driven by dental hunger? How long could the mind withstand daily cruelties? I clutched Naoma as if the impending age and lawful punishment I deserved would take her away. Perhaps that was for the best. If I suffered, she didn’t have to.

My grip remained tenacious, tightening against the fabric of her skirt as reason tried to pull me away.

Chapter seventeen

Card Chaos