Chapter 2 – Reunion with Sarah
The streets of Dublin’s westside buzzed with heat and tension as Mr. Salty walked through rows of towering apartment blocks. AI drones floated silently overhead, scanning faces and thermal signatures. Old posters peeled from electric poles, promising housing reform, green jobs, and integration harmony – slogans that meant nothing to those on the ground.
Salty pulled his faded navy tee away from his chest, feeling sweat pool beneath his arms. He passed queues outside a food subsidy centre, their neon signs flickering: “UBI Credits Accepted Here – Limited Daily Stock.”
He kept his head down until he reached the run-down café wedged between a direct provision integration centre and a vape store. Its glass was scratched and opaque, but he saw her silhouette inside – elegant, curvy, with long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders like golden silk.
He pushed the door open. The scent of stale coffee and burnt sugar hit him. The café’s single AI barista worked quietly, arms whirring as it poured synthetic cappuccinos and wiped the counter with programmed efficiency.
She was sitting in the corner booth. Her pink tank top hugged her full figure, turquoise sarong wrapped loosely around her hips. Her sun-kissed skin glowed under the harsh LED ceiling lights. She looked up, bright blue eyes widening with recognition.
“Salty?” she whispered, standing slowly.
“Sarah,” he breathed, a small smile breaking through his hardened face. He hadn’t seen her in over ten years. Back then, she was a nightclub hostess with dreams of becoming a stylist. Now, she looked matured, confident, but tired in the way only this city could make you.
They embraced tightly. Her curves pressed into his chest, her hair smelling faintly of coconut shampoo – a luxury few could afford these days. He held her longer than he intended, needing to feel something real in this synthetic world.
“God, look at you,” she said softly, stepping back to take him in. “Still built like a dock crane.”
“And you,” he replied, eyes travelling down to her wide hips and back up to her bright, searching eyes. “Still the most beautiful thing in this city.”
She laughed lightly but her smile faltered. “Sit down. You’re just in time. I only have ten minutes before my shift at the Integration Centre.”
Salty slid into the booth opposite her. “Working there now?”
“Yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Welfare cut my UBI down to €50 a week after I missed a reskilling course. So… admin assistant. It’s grim. Families packed into those units like cattle. Babies crying all day. Security drones hovering overhead. No one smiles in there.”
Salty clenched his fists under the table. “They say it’s integration. Sounds more like imprisonment to me.”
She nodded sadly. “Anyway. What about you? Still at the port?”
“No work there for me anymore. AI cranes do it all now.” He paused, voice low. “I was thinking… of heading down to Cork. I heard the old docks are becoming free zones, cash-in-hand work for anyone willing to risk it.”
Sarah bit her lip. “That’s dangerous, Salty. The gangs run those now. Human trafficking, black market shipments. They’ll eat you alive.”
He shrugged. “Better than rotting in a micro-cell. I need to feel useful again.”
She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his rough, calloused hand. “Don’t go yet. I… I need your help with something.”
He narrowed his eyes, searching her face. There it was – the flicker of fear. “What is it, Sarah?”
She leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a girl. Syrian. Thirteen. She’s being moved to a black site tonight. Off the books. They say it’s for deportation, but… Salty, I think they’re trafficking her. I can’t let it happen.”
His chest tightened. For a moment, he saw his younger sister’s face in his memory, lost to an overdose years ago when no one helped her.
“Where?” he asked, his voice low and hard.
“Unit B, Block 17,” she whispered. “After lockdown tonight.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “Then we’ll get her out.”
Sarah nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I knew you’d come back for a reason.”
The AI barista announced her coffee was ready. She stood, gathering her bag. “My shift starts in five. Meet me at the east gate at 10pm. Don’t be late.”
As she walked away, her hips swaying under the turquoise sarong, Salty felt something awaken in him. Purpose. Rage. Hope.
Tonight, he thought, as he finished her untouched coffee, tonight this broken country would remember who he was.
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