The night market had everything a citizen could want if they were willing to mingle with the warts of society. The scent of tacos and corndogs wafted through the air, almost covering City’s Seven’s stink. If Callahan Tower was the heart of the city, the night market was its armpit.

  Situated in a plaza with a dried up fountain in the center, the night market was a collection of instant shops and booths peddling bootleg goods at dirt cheap prices. It changed layout every week as businesses failed or owners died. Owen did most of his shopping there just like the rest of the low city.

  The crowd was so dense Owen could barely hear himself think and he couldn’t take a step without brushing shoulders with another citizen. He kept his hand on his scratchpad at all times to deter thieves as he made his way to Luther’s Discount Electronics and Cheap Repair.

  “It’s still your day off,” Luther said as the motion bell above the door chimed. He stood behind the metal counter with a gutted scratchpad in front of him, magnification goggles on his face, and tiny screwdriver in his meaty hand. “Did you forget again?”

  “No,” Owen said as he scratched the back of his head. He really needed a haircut, but food and rent trumped a trip to the barber. “I was wondering if I could maybe get an advance on my pay.”

  “Nope.” Luther didn’t look up. Bright work lights shined off his scalp. “I don’t do advances. Never have, not going to start now. You get paid the second payday hits. Not a second later, not a second sooner. That’s been my policy since I opened these doors and policy aint changing.” The scratchpad sparked and Luther dropped the screwdriver. “Shit.”

  “That battery is too big,” Owen said.

  “You’re right.” Luther clicked his tongue and finally looked at Owen. “Think I fried the whole system. What’s with the scum suck face? Somethin’ happen?”

  “Got a few fines.” Owen shrugged. “Got a week to pay it off. Can you lend me some credits?”

  “Don’t lend credits either.” Luther swapped the battery and grinned as the scratchpad lit up. “How much?”

  “Nine hundred.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know.” Owen nodded. “A harvester saw the whole thing.” Owen set her card on the counter. “Think it’s worth it? You only need one kidney right?”

  “Fuck no.” Luther ripped the card up. “Once they strap you down you don’t get a say in what they take. Keep your kidneys, Owen. You got two for a reason.”

  “Well I don’t know what to do.” Owen spun a rack of tech zines printed on recycled paper. “I can’t pay.”

  “I’m not giving you an advance, kid.” Luther sighed. “But I did get in a box of shit from the Speedy Repair closeout this morning. It’s in the back. Take what you want, no cost. Maybe you can fix some of it up and sell it.”

  “Thanks, Luther.” Owen could’ve hugged the man.

  “You’re saving me storage space. That’s all.”

  Owen knew he lucked out working for Luther. He heard horror stories about factory employees working sixteen hour days with a single day off every two weeks. Some factories even rented space for employees to sleep onsite rather than commute to and from work. Not Luther. He paid Owen for his scheduled time and not a second more or less. He even gave Owen one day off a week. There wasn’t a more generous boss in the entire low city.

  He spent more time at Luther’s shop than he did in his tube. His workstation was just like he left it the night before with used scratchpads being prepped for sale and a plastic crate full of repair orders. He spent his workday hunched over his desk fixing broken electronics while Luther handled the counter.

  In a way Owen and Luther were harvesters too.

  A dozen crates full of twisted wires and trashed electronics filled the storage room. It was a hoard of obsolete technology to be gutted for future repairs. Luther bought out another failed repair shop every couple of months and the storage room became a graveyard of dead businesses.

  Owen found the Speedy Repair crate and started digging. Luther threw him freebies from time to time to supplement his income. He was good like that, not that Luther would admit it. No vacation days, no advances and no promotions, but if not for Luther, Owen would’ve starved a long time ago. He taught Owen everything he knew about repairing scratchpads and sold him a set of sturdy tools for cheap on his first week.

  Owen dug through the chaos of tangled wire and busted screens, sorting the parts onto shelves as he got closer to the bottom. He set his own stash of old scratchpads and headsets aside. Then he saw something strange at the bottom. It was a headset, though it was much bulkier than the commercial models used to escape reality for a couple hours, and had a thick apparatus that served as a visor.

  “Hey, Owen,” Luther said as he poked his head into the storage room. “You’ve been at it for a couple hours. Want to get something to eat with me?”

  “Don’t have time,” Owen said as the imaginary clock ticked away. “Do you know what this is? Looks like holoset, but older. A lot older.”

  “Where’d that come from?” Luther grabbed the device and turned it around in his hands. He put it on and hit the power button. “Nothin’.” He tossed it to Owen. “That’s an old VR headset, the great grand daddy of the holoset. They were big before the collapse. Made you feel like you were inside the game.” Luther chuckled. “It’s nowhere near as good as a holoset but pre-collapse tech is a real collector’s item nowadays. It might fetch you some nice credits from some high lifer if you can get it running. I’ll grab you something to eat.” Luther slapped the doorframe. “My way of saying thanks for organizing everything.”

  Owen studied the strange device as Luther left. He took it back to his desk, lamp lights humming as he searched for a way to crack the plastic plates without breaking anything. “How do we do this?” he asked the picture of Amber Callahan tacked above his desk. She was tanned and sexy. A small red bikini hugged her curves with a blue ocean behind her and the sun shining bright. The poster came with an entertainment magazine as an ad for Solco’s indoor beaches and featured in many of Owen’s late night fantasies.

  He imagined sitting on a beach chair, ultra violet lights overhead warming him up while he sipped a tall glass of ORANGE SODA DRINK with Amber. She’d take him for a swim in the crystal clear water and later they’d dry off at the snack bar sharing an AUTHENTIC DAIRY MILKSHAKE.

  Owen pried off the headset’s thick plating and set it aside. The architecture was archaic, but the components were free of dust. He didn’t even need the magnification goggles to identify micro components. The battery was old, and the connections corroded. A quick swap and some new solder took care of that and he hit the power button. Red, white, and blue lights around the front and rear of the headset blinked on as Owen replaced the plate and put the headset on. He turned a knob at the back of the unit until it sat snug.

  “Please state your name,” the headset chimed in a feminine monotone.

  “Owen Lamb.”

  The screen in front of his face went dark, and then hit him with blinding light. A flag with white and red stripes billowed in front of him, getting smaller as the view drifted away to an expansive beach covered with people enjoying themselves on a sunny afternoon. Not an artificial beach with screens to simulate the environment, but a real beach with a view of the horizon. Luther was right about the headset being primitive compared to a holoset. Owen couldn’t feel the sun’s heat or smell anything. He hoped Luther was right about it being valuable.

  The view drifted to a square building with large glass windows. A logo of a crab adorned the entrance, a blue fist serving as the crab’s body. The inside of the building was set up like a gym with thick blue mats on the floor and mirrors on the wall. Bladed and bludgeoning weapons hung on the opposite wall. Some Owen recognized from movies, others were more exotic. A lone man stood within, at least seven feet tall and as wide as a pair of vending machines. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes that shined bright. He wore something resembling white pajamas that barely contained his sculpted muscles and he smirked as Owen’s view brought him inside.

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  “Greetings,” the giant man said with an air of friendliness. “Welcome to Sensei Dan Hardknuckle’s karate and barbeque. I’m Sensei Dan Hardknuckle, four time world Toxic Tournament champion, and star of the Righteous Justice trilogy. You can call me Sensei Dan. But if you’re here you already knew that.” Owen chuckled as Sensei Dan strutted across the room. He was like Peacekeeper Paul from the Care Facility education videos. “I welcome you to the Hardknuckle dojo, and if you don’t know, a dojo is where we study the martial arts. It is a sanctuary of warriors where the weak become strong, and the strong become protectors of the weak.” He threw a lightning fast kick that decapitated a training dummy.

  Owen wondered if this is what the world looked like before the collapse and subsequent revival. City Seven and her sister cities once belonged to a failed nation. They governed themselves now, protected by the city’s armed forces. In the corner of the dojo was another striped flag.

  “Now, there are a few things I need to ask before we get started with your Hardknuckle training,” Sensei Dan said seriously. “What’s your name?”

  “Owen,” he said with a smirk. “He was sure the game was starting soon. Once he made sure everything was running correctly he could shut it down and get started on his next repair. He could almost hear the beep of a credit transfer.

  “That’s a good name. A warrior’s name.” Sensei Dan winked and Owen could swear one of his teeth sparkled when he smiled. “Now, Owen, are you at least eighteen years old?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. Children are recommended to start their martial arts journey with a less intense experience. Now this is the most important question I have, my lawyers were very clear on that.” Sensei Dan crossed his arms, biceps bulging, and a serious look crossed his face. “Will you allow the CTD access to all neurological and physiological functions, including motor, visual, and auditory functions?”

  “Yes?” Owen said. He didn’t understand everything that was being said to him.

  “Now did you understand the question, or would you like clarification?”

  “I understand,” Owen said with a roll of his eyes. Fucking terms and conditions. The imaginary clock ticked away and he had a pile of scratchpads to repair and sell. The fine wasn’t going to pay itself.

  “That’s good to hear, my new disciple.” Sensei Dan smiled wide. “Welcome to the Hardknuckle Dojo.”

  The headset screen went black and Owen blinked. Beep. Was that it? Beep. The thing was still busted. Beep. At least that’s what Owen thought before agony jolted through his body. He couldn’t move. His muscles locked and he took a bolt of lightning straight to his cerebellum. Beep. He went blind. Beep. He went deaf. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “Cranial transfer complete,” the device chimed. “Thank you for using a Second Sight product.”

  Owen took a deep breath as his body came under his control. He threw the headset off and it smashed on the concrete floor. He fell off his chair and dry heaved for a minute before he regained something resembling composure.

  “What the fuck was that?” Owen asked himself. He still felt the tingle in his arms as he wiped away spit, like his body was asleep and just woke up. “Shitty old tech.” He shook his head and blinked away stars. The headset lay busted in front of him. There went the collector’s item. It didn’t work right anyway. Who would pay for an electric lobotomy?

  Owen considered going to a twenty four seven emergency medical booth and then he remembered he suffered from an affliction called being poor as shit. He was probably fine. He needed something to drink to get rid of the awful metallic taste in his mouth. Luther kept some bottles of FRESH WATER up front. When Owen turned away from his desk his heart sunk and his butthole puckered as the towering figure of Sensei Dan Hardknuckle loomed over him.

  “I need to assess your defensive capabilities,” Sensei Dan said jovially. “Hands up, Owen. Don’t let me hit you. Hajime!” Pain surged through Owen’s gut as Sensei Dan threw a quick kick. “Don’t just stand there.” Owen crumpled like a folding chair, his hands on his belly and his lunch coming up. “On your feet!” Dan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up, but something was off. He didn’t feel like he was being dragged to his feet by another person. His body moved on its own.

  “Let’s try this again,” Dan said. He steadied Owen by grabbing his shoulders. “Don’t let me hit you. Straight punch! Kiai!” Dan punched him in the chest, sending him through the open door to the main shop. “Come on, Owen.” Owen climbed to his feet using a shelf of scratchpad chargers, his chest throbbing and his heart ready to leap out of his throat. “You can do better than that.” Dan’s image flickered as he ducked into the room. “Keep your hands up to intercept a punch, always be ready. We call that uke.”

  “Get away from me!” Owen flung chargers at the behemoth coming for him, but they passed through him harmlessly. “Help! Help me!” He didn’t know who he was yelling for but he’d take anyone at that point.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Sensei Dan smiled wide and clapped. “Use your environment. Be mindful of your surroundings.” Sensei Dan dodged the chargers and closed in on Owen like a truck closed in on a raccoon. “Back kick!” He leapt and spun, his foot snapping like a whip as he nailed Owen square in the chest. He crashed through a trio of shelves and the spinning rack of tech zines. Cheap scratchpads smashed around him. The shelves were twisted and his chest throbbed and Sensei Dan Hardknuckle loomed over him again. “I might’ve gone a little overboard.” Sensei Dan squatted in front of Owen, still smiling. “We’ll work on that defense, my new pupil, because that defense sure needs some work.”

  The shop bell chimed and Luther stood there with wide eyes and a greasy bag from Jose’s Caliente and Ready Burritos in his hand.

  “Luther, help!” Owen screamed. He crawled across the floor, scratchpads cracking under him as he fled.

  “Next lesson,” Sensei Dan said as he flung Owen across the shop. “Don’t turn your back on an opponent.” Owen smashed into a display of refurbished scratchpads. They fell on him like hail, the thankfully lightweight construction bruising his ego more than his body.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Luther shouted.

  “He’s trying to kill me!” Owen crawled toward Luther and pointed at Dan.

  “There’s no one there, Owen.” Luther glanced where Owen pointed. “What the fuck are you pointing at?”

  “He’s right there!” Owen shook his hand at the giant. “How the fuck can you miss him?”

  “He can’t see me, Owen,” Sensei Dan said. He casually leaned against the counter. “The CTD overrides all visual and auditory functions of the body so only you can see and hear me. I thought you understood that.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Owen shouted at his attacker. “Luther, the CTD messed with my head!”

  “Fuck, Owen! CTD some kind of new street cocktail? You on drugs? This isn’t how you handle your shit.” Luther dropped the burrito bag and grabbed Owen by his collar. “I told you on day one that I don’t hire junkies.” He dragged Owen toward the door. “I see how it is. After everything I’ve done for you, you decide to get high and smash up my shop.” He tossed Owen on his ass. A single burrito wrapped in foil hit his chest. “That’s the last thing you get from me, asshole!” Luther disappeared into the shop and returned a minute later with a box containing Owen’s tools, the broken headset, and the rolled up poster of Amber Callahan.. “Don’t come back here! You’re done.” Luther slammed the door shut.

  “Luther wait!” Owen shook the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. It was made to keep out looters during blackouts. “Fuck!” He gave the door a final kick and grabbed his box. His chest ached, and he knew he was good and dry fucked. No job, no rent money, no way to pay his fine.

  “Where are we going?” Sensei Dan asked. He strutted like he didn’t have a care in the world. Citizens walked through him like a ghost. They couldn’t see him, but Owen knew he wasn’t crazy. The headset did something to him. He still felt the tingle in the back of his brain. “Where are we? I don’t recognize the aggressively minimal architecture or the fashion. Why is everything covered in commercials?” Dan glanced at a trio of women wearing the legally required amount of clothing and chuckled. “Not everything is different.”

  “Go away!” Owen shouted at Dan. A couple with matching purple hair flinched. “How do I turn this off? Is this part of the game?” Owen slapped his head.

  “Game?” Sensei Dan raised his eyebrows. “No, no, no. This isn’t a game. This is a revolutionary training program meant to teach its user the greatest fighting system ever invented, Hardknuckle Style!” Dan threw a punch. “Founded by the one and only Ricky Hardknuckle. Passed on to his one and only disciple.” He pointed at himself with both thumbs. “That’d be me, Dan Hardknuckle.”

  “I don’t care.” Owen felt like a sewer gator caught in a city maintenance trap. “Terminate program! Deactivate!”

  “What are you doing, Owen?” Dan offered Owen a pitying look.

  “Getting rid of you. There has to be a code word to deactivate the program. Did this headset put something in my brain?”

  “No. Not exactly. The CTD inside the headset did.”

  “What is that?”

  “Cranial transfer device. Real cutting edge technology developed by Second Sight and you’re looking at the first non-military application. The Hardknuckle training system on CTD only.” Dan squatted and flexed. “As my sensei taught me, so too will I teach the masses!”

  “You ruined my life!” A few citizens spared Owen a brief look of concern before minding their business.

  “If your life could be ruined that easy, it wasn’t much of a life.”

  “Fuck you!” Owen hit the ground before he felt pain spiking through his gut again. The crowd minded its business and moved around him.

  “First rule of the Hardknuckle dojo, always show your sensei the proper respect.” Dan pointed at himself. “That’d be me.” He dragged Owen to his feet and looked him in the eyes. “I will remind you of rule number one when it becomes prudent, my new pupil.” He gave Owen a gentle slap on the face. He held back tears. “Now let’s get you home. You’ll need a good night’s sleep before we start tomorrow.”

  “We’re not starting anything.” Owen held his aching gut and jogged away from the eager sensei.

  “You can’t run from me, Owen.” Sensei Dan yelled. “Hardknuckle is a part of you now! And Hardknuckle is forever!”