Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

There’s another explosion outside. People are running about, screaming and shouting incoherently.
Nevaten finishes his meal and watches as he wipes his lips. Takes a while, his face being more lupine than human. He’s one of the Beaston, a bodmod cult, but he’s been a friend for longer.
He tips his head towards the chaos outside.
“Do they not know this place is good refuge?”
I grin.
“They might, but the denizens of this city aren’t usually calm enough to make the phase shift. Right now? Not a chance.”
Nevaten chuckles.
“So at this moment, paying clients are unlikely.”
I’m about to agree when a someone tumbles through the door, landing in an untidy heap between our table and the payment counter.
I peer under the table to see who the visitor is.
“Good evening, Tessy.”
She wipes her eyes, takes a deep breath, holds it, then exhales slowly before replying.
“I’ll never get used to a neogod running a cafe, but good evening, Anbariu.”
“Please. I’m a long way from being techno-divine, thankfully. Besides, isn’t there a rule preventing such from mixing with their faithful?”
Tessy nods.
“It’s part of the mystique. Plus being a protection thing.”
Nevaten nods.
“They always cite the death of Musk, but the martyrdom of Ganton is a better example.”
Tessy sits up and stares at him.
“You know, you might be right.”
I push my stool back.
“What can the Dread Cafe provide, madam?”
She stands and indicates her clothes, which are close to having more scorched holes than anything else.
“A coffee to go and fresh kit, please.”
“Have it drink in while you’re choosing.”
I turn and shout to Shebannia.
“Is the garment dump safe to rummage in?”
When the charity warehouse next door closed down, I bought it. It’s amazing what you can hide and ship in charity bags.
A cheerful reply comes as she enters the cafe proper.
“Nothing questionable lying about. The clothes stacks aren’t dangerously high, either.” She looks Tessy up and down: “Girl, you need to back up another ten metres before you set off incendiaries.”
She howls with laughter.
“Not me. I set the first one. The rest are vehicles and the like, except for the big one. That was a short igniting a fuel tank. Would’ve killed me if there hadn’t been a window to get blown through.”
Shebannia leans in.
“How many floors up?”
Tessy shrugs.
“Just three. Used everything in my pulse shotgun to offset the landing. Blew the coils, but saved my arse.”
Nevaten raises a black-clawed hand.
“If I might presume, to what end did you set the first bomb?”
Tessy shrugs.
“Police states and neogods have the nasty habit of collecting data on people. Democracies too, if they’re headed that way. Over there was a government data centre. One of them – they’ve got others. Anyway, I just let off something to cover the progress of the erasure routine I let loose. With a bit of luck, it’ll infect those other datacentres before they realise.”
Nevaten nods.
“The secondary explosion could play into your favour. Maybe they will switch things to other data centres because this one is a trifle immolated.”
Tessy bursts out laughing again.
“‘A trifle immolated’? That’s classic. But yes, a failover might help. I’ll find out tomorrow, if I don’t get nabbed first.”
Shebannia smiles.
“Why? The surveillance around here is down again. You’ve been here all day.”
Nevaten grins.
“Spent the evening discussing the foibles of neogods.”
Tessy nods.
“And the ways they should fall from grace.”
Another explosion outside. Sort of appropriate, really.