The Long Walk

***
It was dark, and he knew on some primal level that he was alone.
Clif sat up with a grunt. He ached all over, but the feeling was distant, as though the sensation was someone else's simply shared with him. A great nothing surrounded him, revealing nothing. He sat there for a while, only now aware of just how good it felt to not feel exhausted and completely wired. Closing his eyes was euphoric. The white noise he'd known his entire life was mercifully gone for perhaps the first time ever.
And then slowly, it came back. The sound of a distant car passing drew his gaze in a certain direction. A tall streetlamp broke the void with its flickering light. Pushing himself up to his feet, he quietly wondered just where he was. He called out.
When nothing answered, he began to walk. As the light grew closer, noise began to filter in; more cars passing in the distance, muffled music, a helicopter flying over… the soundtrack of his life. Shapes began to appear from the darkness. By the time he reached the light, he found himself now fully in Shinjuku, the darkness behind him now a simple alleyway. Despite the noises, he found the streets deserted. A full moon hung fat and heavy in the sky. The skyscrapers beyond this residential area glittered like stars.
He walked without a destination in mind, until his legs lead him to a dusty video-arcade. The old machines cast their neon glow through dusty screens. A pang of nostalgia hit him and he chuckled. He caught sight of a boy playing what he knew to be the Killswitch cabinet in the far corner, and decided to leave him be. His high score hadn't been beaten yet.
It was cold out, a brisk November night. Clif found himself shivering and tragically under-dressed for the weather in ratty jeans and bare feet. A scruffy teenager in an oversized leather coat ate at a noodle stand, alone. The kid was clearly trying not to cry and failing, hiding his face in the bowl. He walked right past the bum with empty eyes and an outstretched hand, knowing that he couldn't give what the man needed.
Clif had walked for a very long time, and felt very tired. The impossible street ended at his current apartment. He found the key right where he normally hid it, despite it already sitting in his back pocket. The door creaked open and revealed the familiar mess. Goro was yelling something, but he couldn't tell what. His words were muffled by something, and he strained to hear. Whatever it was, he sounded upset. The street samurai was always upset.
***
"Wake up, you piece of shit! Come on! Clif! Clif!"
The decker sucked in a ragged, shallow breath. Goro let him drop, the empty syringe clattering across the tile floor. He let out a sigh of relief and hurried to the kitchen, returning with a plastic cup of tap water that the young man happily drank. The boss was on his way, swore he had a guy who could take a look at Clif and patch him up.
The discarded Yasashii (now with a broken screen) was a discolored, pixilated mess. It could be read, but only said:
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