Mirrored Hearts Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  Dedication

  Mirrored Hearts

  About the Author

  MIRRORED

  HEARTS

  EMILY SHEPPARD

  In Matt's city, the law enforcement known as the Upholders are particularly corrupt. They bring people up on the most minor of infractions. But one day Matt meets Shannon, an Upholder who is not like the others, who dreams of bringing honor and kindness back to the uniform. Despite all the reasons he should avoid Shannon, Matt finds himself instead getting closer and closer.

  Mirrored Hearts

  By Emily Sheppard

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Amanda Jean

  Cover designed by Aisha Akeju

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  First Edition Month 2017

  Copyright © 2017 by Emily Sheppard

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781684310371

  All thanks to my mom for encouraging me to keep writing!

  MIRRORED HEARTS

  Readjusting the strap of his shoulder bag, Matt reached out to accept his caramel macchiato from the android-operated café kiosk. The machine spat out his card, and the android gave a little wave and wished him a good day in its synthesized voice.

  He ducked out of line and weaved through the queues to either side of him as people waited at additional kiosks. Neon lights flashed on the tiled ground, turning the crowd surreal. It was morning, but there was always little sunlight above the cities. Electrics and neon kept the atmosphere joyful enough. Clean lines of steel and concrete crisscrossed the field of view and the ever-present tang of fuel permeated the air. In the distance, the chugging of the city's air filters could be heard, giving the inhabitants precious oxygen that could no longer be found in nature.

  Matt replaced the ear bud he had taken out to buy his coffee and plunged into the milling crowd and toward the set of lifts that would take him to his job in 3D graphic design. With the advent of holograms, there was a demand for eye-catching constructs that could be appreciated on all sides like the sculptures of old. In his bag, he carried his slate, as well as his painter attachment in case he needed to make adjustments.

  He finagled his way past a particularly dense knot of people surrounding a freckled young woman standing atop a construction cube, shouting vehemently about something. Unlike the occasional conspiracy theorists one came across, holding aloft signs of doom, this woman was not carried away by emotion. She kept her speech free of anger, and had all the more listeners for it. Matt paid her no further attention but kept to his route before the Upholders showed up.

  Ten minutes later, the clear tube of his lift disgorged him in his employer's front lobby. It was tastefully decorated—all curved glass and wooden paneling. The air was scented with lemon to stimulate the mind. He made a beeline to his half-cubicle. His one permitted item of personalization, a printed statuette of two forms entwined, stood to the left of his main screen. He sat in his chair and got to work.

  The day went by swiftly enough; he collaborated on a project with three other designers and attended two meetings about typeface and palette. The monitors had all been outfitted with no-strain light filters, so they could work longer. It was business as usual, except that one of his projects was a new ad that called for a "sensual tone", and Matt wasn't sure if he could get the feeling right. He ended up sketching in abstract women's curves and calling it a day. He made a few minor updates to his portfolio and packed his slate and painter away.

  Matt started home—exhausted, though not in body. Constantly striving to self-improve could take it out of a person. He rolled his neck a few times and popped his back as soon as he entered the lift. On street-level again, he dug his mobile out of the front pocket of his bag and hit shuffle. The familiar beats and resonances of his music soothed him, put him in the frame of mind that he could handle anything. He walked to the beat, making his daily trek go faster.

  His high spirits faded as soon as he came within view of his apartment building, however. A pair of Upholders in their government-issued uniforms of navy and white were harassing a citizen for some minor infraction or another. Their helmets, which covered everything but the mouth and jaw, made them even more intimidating.

  Matt hesitated several meters away, his stomach turning cold. When the Upholders were around, it was best to keep one's head lowered and do whatever they said, in the least threatening manner possible. He drifted to the side, waiting for the altercation to end. From the sounds of things, it seemed that the citizen had stored personal items in a locker not marked for public use. They—the person had a non-binary look, with unisex clothes and hair flipped up impressively—must not have been respectful enough to the officers' taste, because now the Upholders were acting more aggressive, crowding the citizen and placing their hands on the holsters of their paralyzers. Protests from decades ago had had the effect of making the officers' weapons nonlethal, but it could still sting like a bitch, and was humiliating to boot. Matt turned away, knowing that if he intervened it would just make things worse and put himself in danger.

  Just then, a third Upholder appeared. Unlike the other two, this one moved with less swagger but with a sort of benign confidence. "Roberts, Gardner. What seems to be the problem here?" Matt glanced over to see the interloper casually place himself at a third point between his colleagues and the citizen.

  "This guy was giving us trouble," said one of the Upholders, jabbing a finger. "Storing junk where the city needs access."

  "I'm sorry," the civilian said quickly, more alarmed now that there were three officers. "I'll be more careful next time."

  "Well, that sounds good enough to me," the third Upholder proclaimed. He clapped the other two on the back. They stiffened. "Tell you what," he continued, "there's some gang activity in progress down at First and Tungsten. I could really use the assistance." There was an expectant pause.

  Grudgingly, and with last dirty looks at the citizen, the two Upholders made to leave. Matt continued to hover where he was, two doors down from his apartment block.

  As soon as the pair was outside of earshot, the Upholder turned a disarming smile toward the civilian. "I'm sorry about that. You go about your day."

  The civilian twitched their lips up and said with feeling, "Thank you." They hurried off.

  Before Matt could look away, the Upholder glanced over and caught him staring. Matt winced.

  "Do you need help?" the officer asked chivalrously.

  "No," Matt said, walking closer. "Just heading to my apartment." He gestured vaguely toward the entrance.

  The Upholder nodded and started to walk away. Matt gathered his courage and blurted, "Wait. That was… really nice, what you did."

  The Upholder turned back, and Matt couldn't tell whether he was surprised. Quickly, he tried to backtrack. "I mean, I know we're supposed to follow what the Upholders say, but uh… A little courtesy goes a long way, right?" He laughed awkwardly.

  Shit, now he'd done it. The city-appointed officers were hardly friendly, but one didn't just go around saying that. Matt braced himself for the man's demeanor to change and for him to haul Matt in for bad-mouthing the law.

  After what felt like an eternity, the Upholder chuckled. "Well, I do my best."

  For the first time, Matt let himself examine an Upholder. His fitted uniform was
crisply white, contrasting with his olive-toned complexion, with angular accents and the city's seal in navy blue. The entire garment was lined with carbon fiber. A silver badge gleamed on his breast. At his waist was his paralyzer and a pair of magnetic handcuffs. All Upholders wore state-of-the-art boots that increased running speed and reduced the ache of wear.

  Matt looked up just in time to notice the Upholder seemingly giving him a once-over in return. Confused, Matt stared back at him. Hopefully the Upholder wasn't suddenly finding his build and features similar to that of a known criminal.

  But the officer smiled again. "If you don't require anything, have a good day." He touched his helmet in salute—incongruously, Matt thought—and strode away.

  Matt watched him go for a moment, this strange Upholder that seemed to care about the people, before continuing to his apartment building.

  *~*~*

  It wasn't that all Upholders were abusers of power, but they were notoriously so in this city. Matt had heard of other cities where the officers were efficient at their jobs and respected by the people. But he couldn't afford to move house to one of those cities, and anyway, aside from witnessing the occasional harassment or arrest, it had never affected him personally.

  Until today.

  It was two weeks or so after Matt's encounter with the peculiar Upholder. He was waiting in line to order a vanilla Frappuccino with brown sugar from the kiosk when he noticed the beginnings of an altercation two lines over. He didn't take out his ear buds, but watched warily, all senses on alert.

  A thin man wearing a bright green shirt had been approached by another man, obviously with some sort of beef. They were standing very close, the colored lights swirling over their angry expressions. The green-shirted man initially seemed to be trying to deescalate the situation, but wide, jerky gestures soon devolved into shoving each other. The crowd took notice and quickly gave the men space. Between one blink and the next, the skirmish ignited into an all-out brawl. People shrieked in alarm, some falling over each other to get away, others pulling out their cameras.

  Matt yanked out his earbuds as he backed away. The man in the green shirt was noticeably more on the defense and was getting the worst of it. He tried to block the other man's blows, but they continued to rain down on him.

  "Hey! Hey!" An Upholder came running onto the scene, knocking people aside to get to the fight. He tore the men from each other. "What the hell's going on here?"

  "He started it," the antagonizer said snidely before the other man could speak up. "I was just standin' here and he came at me."

  The Upholder seemed to take his word for it. He gripped the green-shirted man more tightly. "Well, looks like I'm taking you in." Amid the man's protests, the Upholder turned him around and pulled out his magnetic cuffs.

  "Wait!" Matt found himself blurting.

  Everyone swiveled around to stare at him.

  For a moment, Matt wanted to duck his head, mumble that it was nothing. But then he remembered that kind Upholder. Things could change.

  "He's not the one who started it," Matt said. "I saw him," he pointed at the other man with as little accusation as possible, "come up to—"

  "Look, kid, I can't get caught up in a 'he said, she said'," interrupted the Upholder.

  "But—"

  "Now stop it before I bring you in for obstruction of justice."

  Matt dropped his head and relented. He didn't want to take a trip to headquarters. He flicked his gaze to the man he had halfheartedly tried to defend and saw gratitude but resignation there. He was also painfully aware of all the onlookers staring at a citizen who had dared to defy an Upholder, even for a moment. His stomach swirled.

  "Hey there," said a voice.

  Matt spun around, eyes wide. Another Upholder stood behind him. After a thrill of fear in reaction to the uniform, he recognized the olive skin and humor playing about the mouth.

  "Hi," he replied automatically.

  "Did I hear that you witnessed the start of this altercation?"

  Unable to bring himself to look back at the first Upholder who had come onto the scene, Matt swallowed before replying. "Um, yeah. It was the other guy, the one he's not arresting, who started it. He came up to him in line."

  "Please," scoffed the Upholder from behind him. "I just got done telling him that nothing comes from dealing with 'he said, she said'."

  "Well, let's see." The kindly Upholder raised his voice and spoke to the bystanders at large. "Anyone here want to deny that it was this fellow—" he gestured to the guy, "—who started the fight?"

  There was no response other than silence and shrugs. In their passive way, the crowd seemed to be supporting Matt. Or maybe they just didn't care either way.

  "I think it's best to listen to the witness," said the kindly Upholder. "That way it won't be the two men's words against each other."

  The first Upholder made an unpleasant noise in his throat. "I don't have time for this. You deal with it." He stalked away, the crowd warily parting before him.

  As the friendly Upholder took out his own cuffs to arrest the correct man, the surrounding people began to drift away, back to their own devices. Most reassembled back into their queues at the kiosks.

  Matt approached the officer as he was escorting the man away. "Am I… going to need to write a statement?"

  "You little bitch," the man in custody muttered, and even with his hands behind his back made a move toward him.

  "Hey!" the Upholder barked, his tone completely different from what Matt had heard from him before. He gave the man a warning jerk then turned to Matt.

  "You can fill out a form if you want to," he said. "But fighting in public isn't considered a violent crime, so we won't need testimony in court or anything like that." Amusement crossed his face.

  "I'd rather not go," said Matt. "I have work." And now he was late and wouldn't be able to get his coffee. Not to mention they were still walking away from where he needed to go.

  "Well then, I'll see you around." That winning smile again.

  Matt glanced at his silver badge; this was someone he would like to keep track of. But the engraved name was too difficult to read at this angle.

  "Upholder Lapira," said the officer, startling him. "But you can call me Shannon."

  Matt's brow creased in confusion. "Which one do you prefer?"

  "If we keep seeing each other, Shannon will do fine." He smirked.

  Suddenly, it clicked. This man was flirting with him. This could get awkward. And an Upholder of all people!

  "Oh," he said dumbly. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out.

  Upholder Lapira noticed his discomfort. "Ah," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You have a good day." He smiled once more and walked away, the detainee in front of him.

  Matt stared after him for a short time, then turned to the route that would take him to work. He walked through the crush of people with their neon-accented clothing and the occasional synthetic enhancement. Various logos and billboards shone down on them, colored light mixing together in an unappealing soup.

  A noticeable amount of advertisements were for escorts, human or android. Others broadcast events at singles bars. It seemed like besides the newest synth upgrades and the music scene, everyone was obsessed with hooking up and finding out who was sleeping together. Or maybe it only seemed like that to him.

  He reached his work at the same time as one of his coworkers, Ayesha. She was walking toward him from down a different hallway, where presumably there was another lift. Ayesha was wearing her trademark chunky beads made from recycled bits of painted wood.

  "Oh, hey!" she greeted him brightly. "Running late too, huh?"

  "Yeah," he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "There was something going on down at the coffee kiosks." Realizing that that made it sound like a fun thing, he added, "A disruption."

  "Ah, well. Crazy city, y'know? I heard they cleaned up a protest a couple weeks ago. It was about t
he rates on in-city communication." They walked through the glass entryway, which slid open at their approach.

  "I don't know how protesting does any good," said Matt as they hovered in place before going off to their respective work stations. "They should vote different people in or… something." He didn't know too much about politics; he thought it had little bearing on his personal life.

  Ayesha laughed. "Hey, we'd better get our noses to the grindstone and quit standing around. See ya."

  "Yeah, see ya." He gave her a little wave and they parted, heading for different sides of the room. The circular cubicles gleamed with their familiar wood and glass. He drew a breath of lemon-scented air into his lungs, cracked his neck from side to side, and got to work.

  Six hours later he rose, popped his back and gave a moment of thanks for the lubar support he'd bought a while back, and gathered his things. Ayesha met him on the way out.

  "Matt," she called, "I'm having drinks with Kurt and a couple of friends at Gloss. Wanna join?"

  "Sure, I'm not doing anything." He grinned. "Let me run to the restroom real quick."

  "Okay, we'll meet you there!"

  When he reached the pub, he easily found the group sitting at one of the little tables out front. Someone pulled up an extra chair for him, metal against metal screeching up a din. Introductions went around the table, and Matt ordered a drink. Every so often, raucous laughter sounded from within the locale. They talked about current events and the like, but eventually got to discussing Kurt's new baby. He and his wife were expecting their firstborn in a month. They bantered semi-playfully about which products were miracles and which were to be avoided at all costs.

  "I'm telling you, it's a bitch to clean," said one of Ayesha's friends, who had two kids of her own. "You're better off with one of those laser-guided disinfectants."

  "I don't know if my wife will want lasers around the baby," Kurt said sardonically.

  At that point, Matt felt it was time to head home. He bid everyone a farewell and left them to their debate. Drinks continued to clink behind him as he made his way onto the connecting main bridge. The babble of the crowd surrounded him, underscored by the trample of many feet on echoing steel. Citizens popped in and out of the many bars, music stores, and cafés. Eye-searing neon zipped here and there, spelling out the ever-present advertisements. Within the city-sized well, the metal highways formed several layers that could be walked on, so it was advised not to look up or over the edge. Matt lost himself in the buzz and anonymity of society en masse, and leisurely wended back to his apartment.