“They have blocked our frequencies. We’re trapped,” Lu noted as he hurriedly scanned the diagnostic data on his pad. The Szechuan Pepper Protocol had indeed repelled the first wave, but the triangulation signals of the “Iron Duck” were already spreading like an invisible net over the entire Sector 42.
Madame Sheng looked at the smoking ruins of her terrace. “You have to get out of here. If they get their hands on the robot, they’ll copy its code and flood the black market with synthetic grub. That would be the end of real culinary art.” She pressed a heavy, old-fashioned brass key into Lu’s hand. “Take the old freight elevator at the end of the alley. It leads straight down to Level 5 – the slums of the lower city. There, every digital trace disappears.”
“Level 5?” Lu swallowed. “That’s the absolute tech junkyard. Down there, there isn’t even a stable satellite signal!”
“That’s exactly the point, genius,” said Mei, grabbed Bao and tucked the small, blue robot under her arm. “No signal means no drones can locate us. Move!”
A dull rumble shook the platform as the lights of a massive syndicate cruiser appeared in the sky. The “Iron Duck” didn’t hesitate. Without another word, Lu and Mei ran off, closely followed by the heavy footsteps of the enemy scout teams, who were already turning into the alley.
They reached the rusty freight elevator just in time. Lu slammed the brass key into the analog lock and turned it with all his might. With a deafening screech, the heavy grille doors closed seconds before the first green laser bursts perforated the wall behind them.
The elevator dropped with a brutal jerk. As they plunged into the absolute, damp darkness of the deepest levels of Neo-Chongqing, Bao gave a soft, worried beep. “Ambient temperature rising. Humidity: 94 percent. Warning: Rust risk for my premium joints. Recommend immediate return to a climate-controlled sterile kitchen.”
“Keep dreaming, little man,” Mei murmured, looking into the dark abyss ahead of them. “This is just the beginning.”