“I ain’t sure between the rosy, the bluish or the first one with the chrome plating—oh! They got the purple one too…” I breathed, grabbing one by one the price tags jiggling at the end of their red string. “Ew! These leather suspenders don’t fit well with my clothes. Nor with my new sneakers.”

  Lying on a bench, her hands over her face, Zéphyr the awesome data-thief/girlfriend, let out a deep sigh. Thanks to her holosuit, she had taken on the features of Wynona Ryder—with a few modifications, like a luminescent apple green hair color, clashing with her red shirt and shorts. But also, even bigger boobies. “Tell me again why you need my opinion on those things?” she asked, bored to the max of death.

  “Because style matters, duh!” I replied, showing off my pink denim overalls. Unlike her, I couldn’t cheat by programming a fancy digital disguise to cover a metal envelope. Bounty on my head or not.

  I heard her straighten as her heavy concealed cybernetic body made the furniture’s legs creak. “Ali-love, you quibble over a flamethrower.”

  Pouting, I rested the large weapon in front of the flickering cathode-ray screen displaying the list of available mods. “Z. If I needed a killjoy, I would have stayed with Lee!”

  She leaped to her feet and strolled towards the shopkeeper, a small man with long yellow teeth. “Why would you need it?”

  Hands deep in my pockets, I started walking out, shuffling my feet. “Would have been useful on Europa—for instance…”

  She didn’t laugh. “And where would you have hidden it?” I gave her a lecherous look. She continued as she stepped in front of me by the Plexiglas door, opening it with her buttocks: “Unless you’re hunting Cylons in the Plastic Fields, that’s overkill…”

  “Z! This is, like, my special day!”

  She smiled. “True. Do you want an ice cream instead? I guess there’s a Bresler’s nearby…”

  Her brown pupils flashed. Her mind started browsing the intraweb through her new wireless connection; a luxury only full cyborgs from the Data Brokers Guild could afford. Mortals like me still needed lines. The best way to collect analog STDs.

  After a few seconds lost inside the invisible forest of information or whatever, Zéphyr came back to the fleshy and boring reality: “First floor. Right next to the naff arcade.”

  I poked her nose through her glimmering holographic disguise. “Tag! You pay.”

  “Of course I do. It’s your birthday after all.”

  Passing the various military surplus stores and the Guns’R’Us, we walked down the spiral staircase to the ground level and the main lobby of the glamorous South Side StarMart. On either side of the welcoming fountain, the food court and the giant arcade restaurant were crammed on this weekend afternoon following Halloween.

  “Pick your flavor,” Zéphyr proposed as we made our way to the clerk, a decommissioned Technocratic Marine battle android with a stupid calotte.

  I cleared my throat.

  Taking her eyes off the screens over the counter, my cyber-girlfriend corrected herself: “Pick your flavors.”

  “Better,” I concluded as the robot beckoned us forward to the automated ice cream makers on the wall.

  Later, I sat in one of the huge armchairs with a dark chocolate-white chocolate-milk chocolate-chocolate fleur de sel-orange chocolate-double chocolate ice cream—extra chocolate sprinkles toppings.

  Roof of the Palmer House Hotel in Downtown Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - Present day

  “Is your story all about shopping and overpriced ice cream?” Bill Murray cut Ali off, forsaking his joint for a jam-filled donut. “Where are the monsters you promised?”

  I put in my two cents: “Scrooge’s right, partner. Get to the point!”

  Ali pilfered a cake with a skewer lying among the trash and immediately stored it in her back left cheek like a chipmunk. Another one stored in her right cheek, she resumed, spraying icing all over our guest. “Lef’go!”

  Grant Park StarMart in South Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - A month ago

  “What did you pick?” I asked Zéphyr.

  The heat released by her holographic costume had already melted half of her giant ice cream. Annoyed, she started using a straw to enjoy her room-temperature sugar soup.

  “Something people won’t bother about if you ever tell this story in the future…” the cyborg replied. “But I picked an option featuring a reduced probability of ending up with food smeared all over my face—unlike you.” With a flick of her thumb, she wiped a chocolate bead at the corner of my mouth.

  “Oh yeah?” I said before biting my scoop. As I sensed an icy drop on my chin, I raised my eyebrows in defiance.

  Zéphyr stepped forward and kissed me. First where the ice had dripped, then on the lips. And finally, on the neck. I didn’t feel like eating sorbet anymore. And neither did she.

  “Could we order a taxicab?” I asked, looking around for a phone booth. There was one at the entrance to the arcade, where kids were crowding in on this late morning.

  Zéphyr agreed. I dropped my ice cream into the fountain. She took my hand.

  Alas, no sooner had we reached the kiosks, than screams shook the Chuck-E-Cheese. Customers streamed back into the lobby, leaving school backpacks and XXXL bags of candies behind. Standing on my toes, I tried to see what caused such a wave of panic. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Would you want to check?” Zéphyr queried as teenagers and children knocked over an aged carousel before the turnstiles.

  “Yeah! Maybe an animatronic turned mad is on a rampage.”

  “Ali-love… your imagination is only matched by your stomach,” laughed my cyber-partner, grabbing a twelve-year-old by the strap of his bag. “Easy there, boy! Why are you all running around like that?”

  Lifted two feet in the air, the child hiccupped. It took him a few seconds to articulate something sensible; he almost swallowed his disproportionate orthodontic headgear doing so.

  “What’s the 411, Z?” I insisted, one hand raised to shield my eyes from the blinding neon sign featuring a giant mouse.

  “An animatronic!” The teenager burst out, glancing behind with terror. “An animatronic attacked people near the virtual reality booths!”

  Releasing him, Zéphyr turned to the darkened arcade. “For real?”

  My hair stood on end… I was so amped!

  Roof of the Palmer House Hotel in Downtown Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - Present day

  Bill Murray raised his hand. “Wait a second… Aren’t Chuck-E-Cheese mascots supposed to be minimum wage employees dressed up?”

  My partner rolled her eyes. “Come on, Bill! We got 8-bit handheld gaming systems, singing Hershey chocolates and orbital diners delivering square-shaped pizzas to your spaceship by probes. We live in the future. Giant stuffed animals are obviously robots.”

  “Or Freaks,” I added. “That’s the case near Amalthea.”

  “Wow! Spoiler alert, Lee!”

  Our explanations flew over our guest’s head, who was high as a kite. “Want to order a pizza, fellas?” he asked. “I’m still hungry.”

  “Ali and I already had this conversation,” I interjected, straightening my tail from anger. “For technical reasons, drones remain a big no. Especially for a Callistoan pizza. That garbage looks like a quiche!”

  The actor slowly turned to my associate whose stomach grumbled again. “Your pet seems to be a professional spoilsport.”

  Ali nodded. Steam whistled from my ears, like an old Tom & Jerry cartoon. A second later, all claws out, I taught them what to be in a stake out meant.

  Bloody scratched, Bill Murray committed to a newly established intermittent fasting, and Ali resumed her story while applying half a bottle of Mercurochrome on her chin.

  Grant Park Chuck-E-Cheese in South Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - A month ago

  Following the kid’s fantabulous revelations, I had already graciously climbed the security turnstiles of the arcade restaurant—and nearly broke my brand-new nose slipping. On the other side, I drew my rad-looking gun and probed the deserted rows of terminals.

  “Hear that?” Zéphyr asked as she joined me. The hero of the story.

  “I heard I was right. And that you were wrong.”

  My cyber-girlfriend sighed. “I’ll try to access the network and disable the murder-bot.”

  But as her eyes sizzled, I slapped her to keep her mind in the real world. “No, you ain’t! I’ve always wanted to zero Mr. Munch.”

  “Are you sure? It could be treacherous.”

  “It’s just an animatronic. A brainless robot probably looking to unionize or some shit. What is it going to do?”

  A burst of lead sprayed the terminals in front of us, forcing us to take cover behind a whack-a-mole featuring carnivorous plants. Mucho detonations soon followed, shattering ceiling lights and raining down foam insulation. Several severed electrical wires slipped out of the conduits and a short circuit set fire to a knocked down fryer dragged from the kitchen.

  “God Darwin! The police are already here blindly blasting warnin’ shots?” I whispered.

  Another burst passed within inches of my scalp, setting on the jumpy plant-moles clapping their jaws over a fairground music.

  “No,” Zéphyr answered. “The cyberamic probably found a scattergun and is rehearsing an Escondido.”

  Removing the safety of my firearm, I shook off the fine carcinogenic dust on my shoulders and looked up to watch the distant VR booths. According to the kid, that’s where the shooter took refuge. Unfortunately, it was impossible for me to see anything more in the darkness that had prevailed since the fuses blew up.

  “At least this S.O.B. is cornered.”

  My cyber thief remained cautious: “Steve Irwin would say a cornered beast is all the more dangerous.”

  Another blind shot startled us. We couldn’t go on like this.

  Thankfully, an idea quickly crossed Zéphyr’s bio-electronic mind: “How about the explosive devices you subtly borrowed from the store earlier?”

  I gasped. “Do—do you really think I’m shoplifting? I’m an Auxiliary of Justice.”

  She insisted, staring at me with her digital irises before her eyes turned ivory white. Like Lee, she knew my pyromania was only matched by my mythomania. Or, as she said earlier, my appetite. I’m an extreme person, Mr. Murray!

  Roof of the Palmer House Hotel in Downtown Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - Present day

  “An extreme person, indeed,” Bill Murray intervened. “So, you stole those grenades earlier while browsing for a flamethrower?”

  Ali confessed between two muttered justifications.

  Our guest shrugged. “I did the same with the animal-shaped C4 on the set of Caddyshack… Couldn’t resist bringing the leftovers home.”

  “Gophers troubles?” I asked, flipping my pointy ears.

  “Alley cats. Mostly,” he replied.

  My partner went on, tossing the bottle of Mercurochrome to our guest.

  Grant Park Chuck-E-Cheese in South Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - A month ago

  “Geez!” I said. “I don’t wanna waste those good-looking grenades! I was saving them for my anniversary!”

  Zéphyr took off her holosuit to be less visible in the dark. “Today is your anniversary!”

  I smiled, pulling the pins on the red bombs with a flick of my teeth “Good call!”

  “And to think we were just supposed to go out shopping, grab a disgusting McRib, and watch an afternoon movie—I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

  “Don’t worry! I’m having a blast!” I reassured her before spitting the metal hooks over some claw cranes still miraculously spared by the shooting. I silently rolled the deadly charges across the bumpy carpet to our assailant’s hideout.

  The grenades exploded, sending pieces of sheet metal, CRTs, and quarters flying through the rows of machines. Behind us, the fire grew. But automatic sprinklers immediately extinguished the flames.

  “Did you get him?” Zéphyr asked. Green liquid ran over her holosuit. It looked like a black wetsuit coated with tiny round mirrors.

  I tried a timid glance. Taking advantage of the noise and the smoke screen provided by the incendiary devices, our target left its cover. He crouched on an old Zoltar machine, the fortune teller. Only his golden eyes shone in the darkness, and a sudden shiver ran down my spine. We weren’t dealing with an animatronic but a terrifying mutant. The skin of its flat head resembling cymbals oscillated between orange and green. Red coral had grown on his hunched shoulders supporting a large and deformed turtle shell.

  “A Freak-turtle-clam-reef?” I whispered to my friend. “Am I fuckin’ high?”

  “No, and you ain’t in Kansas, neither…”

  I positioned my gun against the lip of the whack-a-mole. The click of the hammer startled the monster, who grunted before probing the room with his bright eyes. With my chin, I subtly pointed to the huge cathode ray television on the stage next to him. “Z?”

  She plugged her white temple wire into a floor outlet to ensure better ingress than through infrared. “Get ready!”

  My pocket-cyborg’s eyes turned from crème to red. The TV was remotely activated, lighting up the room. The Buggles appeared on the screen in a white box, guitars at hand. Trevor Horn began to sing as the entire arcade broadcast Video Killed the Radio Star.

  I heard you on my wireless back in ’52

  Lying awake, intent at tuning in on you

  If I was young, it didn’t stop you coming through

  Oh-a, oh-a

  The monster roared, but the thundering lyrics covered the scream. Disoriented by the power of the pop, he unceremoniously emptied his last magazine into the void before devouring his own weapon without bacon & tomato dressing. His flat yet massive jaws bent the metallic frame like it was a bunch of Twizzlers left all summer behind a windshield.

  Oh-a oh-a

  I met your children

  Oh-a oh-a

  What did you tell them?

  Rolling to a cabinet closer to my target, I straightened to lean against it. Controlling my breathing, I pressed the trigger and hit the creature in the heart. Twice. I’m so skilled.

  Sadly, the monster didn’t flinch. His veins pumped under his throat’s skin like when Hulk Hogan would swallow an entire cup of steroids. The pellets were absorbed by his soft plastron and slowly vomited through weird gill-like trenches over his collarbone.

  “Alright then, cheater…” I taunted him, sheathing my gun and clenching my fingers.

  The sprinklers stopped. The monster’s wide mouth clapped. He charged me without a second thought. With one foot back and my fists raised, I was about to settle the matter in hand-to-hand combat.

  Video killed the radio star

  Video killed the radio star

  Pictures came and broke your heart

  Oh-a-a-a oh

  All the remaining lights went out. I cursed out loud, before something tackled me heavily to the ground. We slipped on the waterlogged carpet right into the kitchen. There, I heard the monster’s jaws vociferously clapping over my throat, and his foul breath moisturized my face. I was about to be eaten alive by Pizza-Face—in a fucking Chuck-E-Cheese. Can you believe that?

  Hating irony, I started fighting back before a flash occurred. A warm liquid splashed on my forehead, and the iron smell of blood filled my nostrils.

  I opened my eyes. Lights went back on. The dead mutant lay sprawled across me. His head had exploded. It looked like popcorn streaked with purple gore.

  “What happened?” I spat as I slid the smoking carcass to my side, against a fryer. Brain jelly covered my nose and ran down inside my throat. It tasted like spoiled Gatorgum. “Ew!”

  Zéphyr stepped over a cart. “I saw from the network he had a nice batch of processors in his skull. I blew up some transmitter’s battery after bypassing the meager security. Trivial.”

  “A Radio-Freak?” I spat again, sitting up. “Shit’s a barf bag.”

  Back behind her glitchy holo-appearance of Winona Ryder, my sexy savior grabbed a fork. Crouching, she triturated what was left of the fuming braincase. “More like a tracking implant. This odd creature seemed remotely monitored,” she explained as she revealed a melted plastic box and wires among the lilac ooze. “Someone on this moon is playing us a bad joke—a bad Halloween joke. Three days late.”

  “Gag me with a spoon! Can you trace the dip who did this?”

  She shrugged, while several shrill police sirens could be heard outside.

  Roof of the Palmer House Hotel in Downtown Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - Present day

  “Am I hearing a drone?” Looking up through the widest hole in the tank’s roof, I saw a small black dot buzzing in the brown clouds above the New Tribune Tower.

  “We’re on Callisto!” my partner uttered, hiding her wrist implant under her jacket’s sleeve. The screen lit up through the fabric. “There are drones everywhere!”

  “Probably because of the Techno-base,” Bill Murray added.

  I squinted. “No. You ordered food!”

  Ali lied, but our guest confessed, knotting a makeshift napkin around his neck. In response, she punched him in the shoulder. “You’re lame, dude!” She emptied her soda brick and burped. Her reflux echoed throughout the cistern, and she continued recounting her bewildering adventure with the Data Maiden.

  Lobby of the Grant Park StarMart in South Callisto City (Callisto/Jupiter IV) - A month ago

  “The cavalry is always late,” Zéphyr joked, heading for the charging stations near the doors. There, she retrieved her electric skateboard. She had resumed a functional appearance; this time looking like a random Japanese schoolgirl.

  My disco rollerblades screwed to my feet and my sneakers tied over my shoulder, we made our way to the street. It was near dark on Jupiter IV despite the ocher gas giant hanging directly overhead.