I arrived on the scene, and put my glasses on.

I pulled my collar up against the cold. The wind picked up and the hem of my coat drifted a little around my knees.

He was a punk. He wore all black and mostly leather. He had shirt hair; it was just long enough to clip an AR tag to. The tag projected a virtual Mohawk, now transparent.

We were on the corner of Fifth and Rucker. Sirens flashed silently. A large yellow ring was projected in the air, the words "No Entry" ran along it in black Helvetica. There was no reporter. Cars directed themselves around the block rather than pass through the crime scene.

He was lain out on the sidewalk. Except for the gaping hole in his chest, he might have been sleeping. Blood ran down his left arm and pooled in the street where his fingers curled slightly and brushed the asphalt. His head was turned away, and his right arm was curled around his face. His legs ran straight out, parallel to the sidewalk and the road.

The hole was not clean.

Ragged flags of leather and gore were mixed together like salad; tiny bone splinters were the croutons.

There was blood on the sidewalk for at least six feet behind him.

I pulled a white rubber glove out of my pocket and stretched it over my right hand. I crouched over the man and pulled his right arm away from his face with just my forefinger and thumb.

He was holding an AR tag.

"Okay, Allice, go ahead and pick a chair."

The girl sat down at the far end of the room and folded her hands on her lap. I saw down across from her. The room was grey and rectangular, and the ceiling glowed. There was a door behind me with a glass window reinforced by wire mesh. The wall to my left was a one way AR projection.

"Is Allice okay, or would you like me to call you something else?"

"Ace."

"Alright. Can I get you anything? Coffee, food, a blanket? I know it's kind of cold in these waiting rooms."

"I want my phone call."

"Okay." I said, "Give it a few minutes." I pulled my Tab out of my front pocket and sent a message to my Coordinator. I set the machine down on the table.

"My Coordinator will let me know when they open the firewall for you."

I sat back and folded my arms.

"So, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. You're not being charged with anything; there are just a few things that need clearing up."

She didn't say anything.

"Do you know a guy by the name of Steven Atma?"

She furrowed her brow for a second. Her lips rolled into an oh and she narrowed her eyes before talking.

"I might. I know a lot of people. What's his real name?"

"We're still investigating him, but known aliases are Goldeneye161, Bondaid, and 8cat."

"Oh James."

Her face relaxed and sagged a little.

"What can you tell me about him?"

"He likes old movies. He really like James Bon. He had a crush on most of the actors who played him."

I blinked.

"Liked? Did he switch hobbies?"

"No. I just misspoke."

I leaned back in my chair.

"He's dead."

The girl looked down at the floor and licked her lips.

"Oh."

"Would you happen to know anything about that?" I leaned forward again, and put my hand in my pocket.

"Did you meet with him recently? Could be you came to seattle to meet him, being an online friend and all?"

"No." "No meeting people IRL is pretty underwhelming."

"You're sure you haven't met with him?"

She looked up.

"Yes. I haven't even talked to him for a few days."

I leaned back again and pulled a black plastic bag out of my pocket. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

She reached out, and I could see her face tighten up. She opened the bag and held it up by it's end. Two AR tags fell onto the table, dead. She pulled out her tab and turned them on.

My tab vibrated, and I stood up.

"You can make that phone call now."

I lifted the tag out of the dead man's hand. It was a hair clip, like his Mohawk. It lay dead in my hands, so I pulled my tab from my front coat pocket.

I fumbled around with the machine for a few minutes. Once I found the tag, I turned it on.

A lock of pink hair drifted silently in the wind at my fingertips.

I began composing a message to my coordinator.

"I'm sorry. I love you too."

She put the tab back in her pocket.

"Family back home?"

"I want a lawyer."

I reached up and took my glasses off, folding them and setting them down on the table. I rubbed my temples with my left hand. I was careful not to acknowledge the unobscured officers sitting to my left.

"Look, Alice, Ace, it helps us both if you stick with me so I can see your side of this before we bring the lawyers in."

She looked at me from across the table.

"How are you supposed to see anything?"

She started to tremble visibly.

"You don't even have eyes." she said, her voice cracking.

I stood up, and put my glasses in my pocket.

"I'll send someone in, and they'll show you to a cell. Your lawyer will see you in the morning."

I walked out of the room, and stood in the hall. After the door closed I shouted something. Everyone turned and stared at me.

"The girl wants a lawyer." I shouted at no one in particular, and stormed out of the station. On my way down the front steps, I took my tab out of my pocket. I checked my bank accounts.

It was pay day.

I was driving down Intercontinental 90 when the message came, a hitch hike request.

"Snowgirl, Alice Liddell, 19, Ride to Seattle. No money."

I could see the top of her head from the road. Her hair was short and blonde. Her bangs were pink, an AR projection filtered through my car's windows. She was slumped against the side of a tree under the viaduct.

I thought about it for a moment, glanced at the message. I tapped my finger on the pane of glass that read "Confirm Request" in blue. I shifted from Overdrive into Drive and pulled off down the ramp to the rest stop.

She was standing by the side of the parking strip when I pulled in. My passenger side door flipped up, and she sat down.

"Thank you." she said.

The illusory lock of pink hair vanished with no system to display it. She was wearing a light brown coat and a skirt. There was a floral print along the bottom edge of her coat. Outside it had bloomed between pink and green. Without AR, it settled on gray. The tab she used to send the request was hanging in her breast pocket.

"Not a problem." I told her.

I pulled back onto the highway and shifted to overdrive.

"Are you going all the way to Seattle?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah, commuting to work."

"That's kind of a long commute."

"Takes me about the same time by car as my friends that work in Tokyo need by rail."

We were quiet for a few minutes.

"What's your work?" she asked me, glancing over.

"I'm in security for Microsoft." I said. I kept my eyes on the road.

"Oh." she said. "I thought sec' contractors had to mark their vehicles."

"I am marked. There's a card on my license plate."

"You can still mark legally without an AR tag?"

"The day they say I can't is the day I build a cabin in the woods and buy a shotgun.

" We made eye contact. Her eyes were pink, and the pupils glowed faintly. She blinked.

"You haven't got eyes." she said.

"Mark one flesh ball." I corrected her.

I woke up, and saw the ceiling like it was brand new. I made coffee and took a shower.

I set my suspenders to the side and put on a belt instead. I decided that I'd look good in a black jacket.

I arrived on the steps of the station at 4:45. As I approached, a man stormed out in a rush. When I got to the door, I had to stand aside for two men in white jackets. My coordinator was just inside, looking at his tab, turning slowly, about to rush off somewhere. He looked up and saw me.

"You're late."

"I thought I was early."

"Didn't you get the message?"

I. pulled out my tab and tried to open it.

"I got a new system installed yesterday. I was going to ask you about this."

My coordinator took my tab out of my hand and executed several commands in quick succession.

"Of all days for the luddite to upgrade." he grunted. "You'd better figure it out fast."

I looked down at my tablet. I had two unread messages. The first was a notification that my dry cleaning was ready.

The second was from my coordinator.

"Rucker Shooting suspect escaped. Two officers wounded. All units report in ASAP."

I blinked. I could feel the silicone scraping the inside of my eyelids.