The Grey. *-(A SciFi Thriller)-*

Part I: Ami

"Hey!  You can't do that here!"

Ami looked up from the cigarette she was holding. She didn't remember taking it out of her pocket, but she must have lit it a while ago, as it was nearly at the filter now. She sighed and put the butt out on the bench armrest, twisting it between her fingers on the rigged, painted metal. She must have zoned out, lost in her thoughts yet again. At least this time she was here, at the SimuPark, rather than accidentally lighting things on fire at her apartment.

"Sorry," she exhaled, flicking what was left of the cigarette in a nearby trash can.

"Wait," the HoloGuard slowed, catching his breath as he reached the lone bench at the top of the hill. He then leaned over the chrome bin, gripping both sides with his gloved hands. "You didn't have to throw it away."

Ami didn't smoke. The stale, crumpled cigarette pack was a relic, a keepsake of hers she kept in her coat pocket. Every now and then, when things got bad, she would light one of these cigarettes to remember - to ground herself and remind herself that yes, those memories are real. And yes, this is real. Every strange smell, sight, and sound in this bizarre and foreign place. Everything here, though unfamiliar and terrifying at times, was real. The bent pack felt heavy in her duster jacket, though there were only four lone cigarettes left. She'd have to find a new nervous habit soon.

The HoloGuard stood there, still staring into the waist-high metal trash can. Ami watched him as his brow furrowed and couldn't help but recoil as he reached an arm to grab what was left of the crushed cigarette.

"What is this?" He held the crumpled filter up to his face, then glanced back up at Ami. His amber eyes crinkled at the sides. "I thought you were Saging."

Sage. The name of a popular synthetic inhalant with psychoactive properties. Ami knew it was rampant in the city, and illegal for public consumption. Advertisements filled downtown; silken ladies whispered "Get Rid of Your Ghosts" with a wink, plastered on the alley pub doors. But Ami saw what happened to those who fell for their tricks. The vacant, smiling faces of its victims lined her walks - a reminder of her fate if she fell under its spell. The sleepless, bloodshot eyes and childlike demeanor of those who inhaled the drug initially made her uneasy every time she passed them. They would tug on her sleeves and whisper in their haunting sing-song voices in her ear. But as she watched them dance and sing with each other, hands held in playful circles, she could help but long for it. They seemed so happy, so blissful in their escape.

But she knew that she could never let herself become like them. She needed to stay grounded, present. She needed the memories that she had left to stay clear. She needed to remember.

"It's a cigarette," Ami answered, finally getting a closer look at the HoloGuard's face.

The HoloGuard was real, Ami decided.

He was young, at least in his twenties, with light sandy hair and unusually bright amber eyes. She couldn't tell if they were synthetic or not, but they were unlike any she had seen before. Although he had strong features, his face seemed softer than the usual guards who roamed the main road. There was still a little life behind his eyes, compared to the usual hardened, bitter stare she was used to seeing. Maybe he was new.

He was surprisingly natural looking compared to most people who lived Downtown. The street was lined with men and women with modifications of their face or body, whether it was antlers, scales, permanent lenses – anything to stand out. Ami's personal favorite was the current trend of implanting what she could only describe as "fly-eyes." They were multi-prismed domes that jutted out from the wearer's eyes, similar in appearance to a beehive made of crystal.