Chapter 81: Temporary Machines
They came off the lift into a room that had never once been confused about its job.
No glossy showroom here, just a wide, white bay with stenciled lanes and a draft like the building itself was inhaling and exhaling on schedule. Tools hung in tidy rows. Test rails ran like underlines. In the far corner, a wide shutter door wore hazard stripes like a smile that knew things would be fine and also not fine.
Alteea swept a hand. "Two left. Let’s be civilized about it."
She pivoted to Ichiro first. "And by civilized, I mean: we’re not letting you lift the city with rocks."
Ichiro had the decency to look almost sheepish. "I can float on them" he said. "Quite high. Controlled. It’s... quiet."
"It’s a path of minor earthquakes" Alteea said, friendly like a scalpel. "You’d tear tiles, jam vents, upset dampeners, and give the maintenance crews new reasons to unionize. Also: collateral. We like our walls."
He nodded once. "Alright, alright..."
"Good." She thumbed a panel. A cradle rolled out with a low hum, carrying something that looked like a quadbike that had fired its wheels and hired air instead. Four ducted fans in armored rings sat where tires should have been - the body was low, flat, functional - no vanity, just purpose. A soft skirt of composite made a seal with the floor when it powered up.
"Stability over swagger. Low profile. Quiet enough to not scare wildlife or rookie squads. She strafes, pivots, and has the personality of a reliable kettle." Alteea said.
"Sold" Ichiro replied, and meant it.
Technicians helped him into the harness - hip clips to anchor him if the thing decided to disagree. He settled onto the saddle, hands loose on the bars. The fans woke with a clean whirr, pushing air down until the bike shrugged off weight. It hovered two fingers above the tile, wobbling once, then deciding to be steady.
"Lane light" Saffi murmured. A slim blue line drew itself from starting mark to a row of cones and a square painted STOP like an opinion.
Ichiro eased forward. No jerk. He skimmed the floor and tried a gentle left. The bike obeyed like it appreciated requests phrased as questions. He feathered throttle, drifted laterally in a slow, beautiful slide, then tapped a foot brake that wasn’t a brake and watched the fans bite air and slow him in a space smaller than his shadow.
Esen gave a low, sincere whistle. "Graceful."
Arashi leaned on a post. "It’s like watching water decide to be obedient."
Ichiro took the slalom: not fast, not showy, but with no clipped cones and no argument. He pivoted in place, nose pointing north then east, then slid backward smooth as a lie told by a master. When he stopped at the square, the stop was so clean even the STOP stenciling looked smug.
Alteea nodded, satisfied. "Filed under: He Will Not Be The Reason We Have To Patch A Street. Good choice."
Ichiro unhooked the harness, stepped off, and set a palm on the housing with the same respect he gives his pebbles.
"Temporary" he said, not to undercut it, but because truth likes to be truthful.
Alteea’s mouth tipped. "All of this is. The world changes. We follow." She looked past him, eyes hunting a different kind of trouble. "Alright, speedy. Your turn."
Raizen, who had been pretending he wasn’t rehearsing for this moment for the last ten minutes, lifted his chin. "I’ll...try a few things."
"Well, keep it gentle. The foam’s fresh."
They started in the traversal gallery next door. The space that had caught Esen earlier waited with the patience of a cat.
Drone pack first: a tidy harness with two small ducted fans on an armature along the back, a control yoke like bike grips. A tech cinched him tight. "Half pull for lift" she coached. "Feather for yaw. If you panic, let go. It’ll level itself."
"I never panic" Raizen said, lying in a friendly way.
He pulled. The pack pushed. He rose a foot, then two. Not bad. He slid forward, did not plow into the wall, and allowed himself a private smile about being basically competent.
Then he lifted his left hand to scratch his cheek by reflex.
The pack read it as "rotate left and gift the ceiling a gentle kiss."
He corrected quickly - quicker than most - and only tapped a vent grill with his shoulder. The foam panel thumped out a scolding cushion, just in case. He landed on his feet, dignity only slightly grazed.
Esen clapped once. "Low-altitude orbital travel. Dazzling."
Raizen popped the harness buckles. "Not bad" he admitted. "But not me."
Hover sled next: a slim platform like a door that believed in speed. You rode it standing, feet on pressure zones, hands nowhere - your body the control.
"Think calm" Alteea advised.
Raizen did. The sled rose and slid like a sled. He was decent until the first corner, where body and platform had a small argument about who was in charge. He made the turn, technically. It just looked like a man trying to keep a tray of tea from spilling while surfing a soap bar.
He hopped off at the end, more sheepish than injured. "Feels like lying to gravity" he said. "And gravity knows."
"Back on the shelf" Alteea said. "Before gravity writes us a complaint."
Propulsion boots: two compact pods snugged to his shins, heel and toe triggers underfoot.
"Even pull" the tech warned. "They hate favoritism. Kind of like Esen’s rings, but not with Luminite..."
Raizen took three exquisite strides down the lane, jets whispering in tandem, and then his right toe decided to express itself at a family gathering. He bounced. Not disaster. More like a dignified kangaroo from a royal family who regretted its choices. He recovered - cleanly, impressively - but the boots felt like clever shoes with their own agenda.
"Fast" he judged, "but it trips over itself."
Keahi deadpanned, "Relatable..."
They tried a micro-mech bike - a squat off-road thing with adjustable suspension that should have been idiot-proof. It started, chuffed twice like it had opinions, and then died, very dramatically. Raizen sat on it while it reconsidered existence, patting the tank like one does a stubborn donkey.
"It doesn’t want me" he told the room.
"It has taste" Arashi said.
"Thank you" Raizen replied, missing the insult on purpose.
Alteea’s eyes flicked to a rig hanging from the ceiling. "Grapple?"
The harness looked simple: a waist belt, a chest clip, and two hand-grips connected by lines to a compact launcher. Test anchors studded the gallery beams.
Raizen buckled in, breathing going quiet the way it does when a thing feels promising.
"Hook one" Alteea called. "High left. Don’t swing into Saffi please... She might bite."
Saffi blushed: "I don’t bite!"
He aimed, fired - clean "thwip". The line bit the anchor. He didn’t yank. He weighted it, stepped into the tension, and let the gentle curve of pendulum physics help. He swung across the lane, knees tucked a touch, and released at the exact moment the arc wanted him to. He landed light, only two steps to bleed off motion.
The second hook came faster, higher. He grabbed it without looking as he turned, a neat little half-spin that would have made a scoutmaster cry. The third he misjudged by a hair, and the harness caught his center with a tug that could’ve been unkind to other spines. He laughed once, recovered, and walked it off.
"Better" Alteea said, interest sharpening. "Your body awareness is good. Risk of yanking your vertebrae like bad pearls also good if you get cocky."
Raizen flexed his right hand, testing the small ache. "Feels... close" he admitted. "Like I could build the rest of the sentence."
"Build" Alteea echoed, filing that word. "Noted."
He went again, this time adding a small dash - an Eon-quick step with his blade half-out that was more suggestion than sprint - between hooks. The rhythm of dash, latch, arc, release sang in his bones. For four swings he was a line that learned where to bend. On the fifth he clipped a padding post, scraped a knuckle, and hopped down, shaking his hand and grinning in spite of himself.
Hikari was quiet, watching with a look that always made him stand up straighter. When he caught her eye, she gave a little nod, like "yes, that one".
Alteea tilted her head. "You looked good dangling" she said, back to teasing to hide the approval. "Let’s give you something to arrive in."
They took another lift - up this time, into a different bay. The lights woke in a polite wave and two shapes waited under sheets. A tech whipped a cover away with a flourish.
The car didn’t so much sit as crouch.
Low front like a predator’s snout. Angles shaved to blades and then smoothed where air would complain. Panels folded into negative space so shadows did work paint couldn’t. Along the hood and slicing the headlights, thin chevrons of yellow cut through the metallic silver like decisions. The cabin was narrow and mean, glass a slit. The stance said I will go where I’m pointed and apologize to no one.
Raizen made an unhelpful noise.
"Valkyr-Δ" Alteea said, proud the way you are when your friend is attractive and knows it. "Variable clearance, adaptive torque, active aero if you flirt with it. Tires that know the difference between polite road and the kind of dirt that thinks it’s a rumor. Don’t hit anything I’d miss."
"Why the delta?" Arashi asked, because of course.
"Because calling it "Valkyrie" would be a lawsuit" Alteea deadpanned.
They opened the gullwing. The cockpit was exactly the right amount of complicated: steering yoke more fighter than car, pedals that admitted to existing, a center stack that didn’t scream but did imply it could yell.
Raizen slid in. The seat cupped him like he’d been poured into it. The harness crossed over his chest with a well-practiced tug. He rested his hands on the yoke; it fit. If the Kestrel had awakened under Hikari like a purr, the Valkyr-Δ hummed under him like a muscle waiting for a sprint.
A tech waved him toward a test run - down a huge lane that had been rearranged while they’d walked: one smooth arc, one chicane, a pretend patch of broken tile, a small ramp for a hint of air, then a mixed-surface corridor where synthetic dirt and gravel had thoughts.
He eased the car forward. The first meter was a whisper. The second... He was already writing a love letter to speed
He floored it. The first curve he took clean, the active aero whispering a change just at the lip, the car sticking as if the floor wanted him. The chicane he negotiated with only one unnecessary correction – honestly? Splendid for a first drive. Over the broken tile, the suspension hiccupped and then settled with a do-not-worry fatherly pat. On the ramp he got a handspan of air and did not act like a child about it, which made Alteea mutter, "Responsible, how dull" under her breath.
The mixed surface grabbed at him. He let the rear slip a fraction, corrected calmly, and let the car straighten out without fighting it. His hands were steady. His face did not grin. But the corner of his mouth had stopped its old habit of obeying fear. Then he tried going all-in on a straight line.
300. 400. 450. Then he stopped.
He brought it back to the mark and idled. The fans ticked under the hood. Heat wove into the air, carrying a bit of rubber and brag.
"How does it feel?" Keahi asked.
He stroked the yellow accent with two fingers like you’d pat the neck of a new horse. "This thing flies. I love it."
"Temporary?" Alteea asked, because she liked people who answered with the thing they’d already thought.
He nodded. "Maybe. Until I make...something."
Alteea folded her arms, weight on one hip, grin like a cat at a canary convention. "Make what?"
Raizen looked back toward the gallery where the grapples still hung, then down at his hands. "Something that combines a line, a swing, and a step. A way to change direction faster than a thought." He hesitated a beat, then added, more to himself: "Something that keeps up with what my feet already want."
Alteea tipped her head, the flirt retreating and the professional stepping into the light. "Two warnings. One: your spine is not a suggestion. Don’t build a harness that punishes you for being talented. Two: don’t get so enamored with movement that you forget arrival."
"I won’t" he said. Then, honest: "I’ll try not to."
She jerked her chin toward Saffi. "You’ll need lab access. Saffi’s your door. She’s good with safety and better with making my lawyers not hate me. And she’ll help with bringing it to life. Trust me, don’t underestimate her"
Saffi, nodded once. "Bring sketches. Measurements. If you don’t have anything, we can work something together."
"Right" Raizen said, with an unreadable expression
Something little and unhelpful flickered through Hikari’s face - barely there, the ghost of a frown. It vanished in a blink. She adjusted the helmet at her hip like it suddenly weighed something.
Feris, oblivious to subtlety, elbowed Raizen’s arm. "If you build a zipline that runs across the Glowline, I will absolutely use it."
"Illegal" Esen said.
"Romantic" Feris countered.
Arashi eyed the yellow chevrons. "At least it matches your unhealthy obsession with gold numbers."
Raizen looked at him. "You scored 799."
"Uncalled for" Arashi said, wounded dignity reasserting itself.
They ran the Valkyr-Δ once more. Raizen pushed a touch softer and the car told him it liked to be asked. On the last straight he let it breathe and the sound it made had other vehicles turning red in their garages out of jealousy. He brought it back, parked on the line exactly, and killed the engine. The silence that followed felt like applause politely refusing to intimidate him.
Alteea gave a crisp little nod that might have been a bow if she were not constitutionally unable to bow. "If nothing else, you’ll always arrive in style."
He smirked. "I’ll try to arrive alive, too."
"Optional" Alteea said, and then, quieter, for him alone: "Your dashes - " she touched the air, drawing a cross as if to mark axes - "they don’t have to be linear. The right rig, the right anchors... every direction is fair if your body can cash the check."
On their way to the lift, Hikari fell into step with Raizen. "The car looks... like you" she said. "Sharp. A little mean."
"I look mean??" he asked, with an offended.
"Your dashes are" he received a cute smile back. Then she bumped his shoulder with the helmet. "Don’t let Saffi... Nevermind..."
Deciding not to question her, he conceded the point with a tiny tilt of his head. "You were... ridiculous today."
"The cone?" she asked, pretending innocence.
"The curve after" he said. "The one you didn’t miss."
Her mouth did the thing where it lifted and tried not to. "You were very good at dangling."
"Thank you. I practice hanging by a thread."
Alteea pressed the lift button. "Ey, kids!" she called over her shoulder, fond but absolutely ready to move on. "We’ve outfitted a city’s worth of chaos today. Dismissed before I give you homework on tire compounds." Doors shut. The Heart carried them up, past floors that smelled like oil and ambition, humming like a thing well-used and happy about it.
Raizen let his eyes close for three slow breaths. He was really tired, but in his head, lines crossed a room, anchors caught, a step turned into flight. The plan wasn’t a plan yet - just the place where wanting lives before it learns math. That was enough.
Alteea stepped out first, filing the day into her private ledger: skates, pack, board, bike, bird, glide, car. She didn’t say it out loud, but the smile at the corner of her mouth admitted it: she liked this team. They were making the Heart louder in all the right ways.
"Dinner?" She offered to nobody, but everybody.
"Starving" Feris and Esen said at the same time.
Raizen’s hand drifted over an imaginary yoke, then toward an invisible line in the air, measuring a gap no one else could see. "Not yet" he said, to the future device he hadn’t built. "But soon."