The elevator creaked as it climbed up to the second level of New Helsinki, a journey that had taken a good five minutes, illuminated by a single flickering lightbulb. Even if she still couldn’t see the sun this low in the city, Harper was glad to see the familiar orange lights of the streets. On day-mode for just a few more hours.

  In truth, the streets of the three lowest levels of New Helsinki were more like wide corridors lined with shops, apartment buildings and steel pillars. The occasional neon sign broke the orange monotony as she made her way to one of the side alleys, narrow corridors between larger streets. Everyone in New Helsinki knew you were supposed to avoid these, but Harper just happened to live in this particular one. She knew the local thugs, Andrei and his gang.

  Dwellers were off-limits, long as they paid a small protection fee. As they say, don’t shit where you eat.

  She passed by four thugs outside the door without issue. They were playing cards on the ground and drinking kelp beer. One of them, a new recruit probably no older than twelve, almost stood up to bother her, but an older boy patted him back down. “Yo veli, she’s cool.”

  Harper gave the boy a nod and walked in. She had another elevator ride ahead of her before she was finally back in her apartment, thankfully shorter than the last. Finally, she reached a row of doors in a narrow brown corridor, fishing the pocket of her jeans for the keys to one of them.

  “Surprise!”

  The shout startled her as she opened the door to the single-bedroom apartment, and made her drop her keys. The pillows were fluffed and the sheet was removed from the couch she used as a bed. The TV was tuned to the music channel, quiet to ruin the surprise before she walked in. Her punching bag had been moved to the corner.

  On the aluminum table at the center of the room, next to her old stuffed bunny named Arthur, there was an ant-honey cake with two lit candles. A two and a zero. Her older brother, Jason, and Rita, her only friend, were the ones doing the shouting.

  “Fucking hell, what’s this for?” Harper said, having to catch Rita as the shorter woman jumped in for a hug. It was only after she had a look at the candles that she realized that she had forgotten her own birthday. “Ah, you guys…”

  Rita let go, her feet dropping to the ground. Her head just reached the edge of Harper’s chin. Her naturally curly hair was wild and loose today. She preferred it that way whenever she could and Harper always found it beautiful. Rita’s father was a native Finn, a culture slowly disappearing through assimilation with the Americans, Swedes, Russians and people from the old Baltic States that had taken refuge in the cartel city. But her mother’s family traced back to the Nigerian migrant workers employed on the industrial dockyards that would eventually grow New Helsinki. She wore a short white jacket over her long black shirt, the flickering light of the TV bouncing off its plastic surface.

  Jason looked like he always did except his shirt was buttoned up. Apart from the top two buttons, at least. With the exception of his blazer, he only took off his work clothes to shower, sleep or wash them. Everyone, rich or poor, has things they’ll spend money on and things they don’t care about. For Jason, new clothes were the latter. His hair was red like hers. The bags under his bright blue eyes ruined his otherwise handsome face. He never slept well, even when things were going as smoothly as they could in New Helsinki. It was the reason Harper insisted he got the bedroom for himself.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You forgot, didn’t you?” he said and patted her on the shoulder.

  “Forgot my own birthday? Pssh…” Harper said, dropped her backpack to the ground and grabbed the remote to turn up the music. Some “underground” rock band whose lyrics were just vaguely rebellious enough for the Nordrun Cartel to allow as a safe release.

  She plopped down on the couch, letting her denim jacket slide off her shoulders, and leaned in to absentmindedly blow out the candles. The wish was always the same. Something better.

  Jason cut the cake as Rita jumped onto the couch next to her, hugging one leg to her chest. “So…” she said, “How was your date? And why didn’t he come home with you?”

  “Hey!” Harper said and threw a pillow at Rita, “I said I was meeting a guy, never said I was going on a date!” Truth is, it was easier to play off her secrecy as some sort of juvenile embarrassment about meeting someone than to actually tell the truth.

  “Shorter than you thought he’d be, huh?” Rita said.

  “Fuck you.”

  Jason chuckled and placed three pieces of cake onto pewter plates, then cracked open a bottle of kelp beer against the edge of the table and handed it to Harper. “Gonna tell us what it’s about, or you gonna keep being mysterious?”

  “And fuck you too,” Harper said, taking a sip of the beer, loaded with sugar to increase the alcohol content during fermentation (and hide the taste of seaweed). She took her plate, took the cake between her fingers and had a bite, licking her fingers clean after.

  “Fine…” she said as the other two just stared at her in silence, their smiles starting to get on her nerves. She put the plate down and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. Her leg started to quietly shake up and down without any conscious input on her part.

  “It was about a job,” she said and looked up at Jason. The young man sat on the fabric arm rest of the armchair across from the couch, one eyebrow raised.

  “Well that’s great!” Rita said, adjusting herself on the couch. Jason didn’t appear to share her enthusiasm.

  “What kind of job?” he asked.

  “On a dust ship,” Harper said.

  “The fuck?!” Jason said, standing up from the couch, “I fucking told you, no!”

  “And how the fuck do you get to say that?” she said, standing up to face him. It felt strange. They were the same height now, had been for years. But she always expected him to still tower over her, still saw him as her big brother.

  “You don’t understand what’s out there!” Jason said.

  “Oh, so now that’s a problem?” Harper said as Rita looked up at them both from the corner of the couch, “But when they make you fly out to the plant, then it’s no big deal right, then you’ll be home before I know it? You said it’d be a cushy office job!”

  “That’s different!” Jason said, looking right into her narrowed hazel eyes, “That puts a roof over our fucking heads!”

  “And that’s your right?” Harper snapped back, “Yours alone?”

  “You don’t get it!” Jason said and grabbed a beer off the table, slammed the bedroom door shut behind him and disappeared from sight.

  Harper grabbed the remote and squeezed the button to shut up the music, then threw it across the room. The back cracked open and sent two batteries skittering across the cold concrete floor. She slumped back down into the couch, elbows propped on her knees, all ten fingers laced in her hair. It was silent for a second, two, ten… she almost forgot she wasn’t alone.

  “Harp…” Rita said, her hand coming to rest on Harper’s shoulder, “Are you sure about this? Like, absolutely sure?”

  “No, Rita,” Harper said, “No I’m not…”