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[ It's nearly twelve hours before Kimiko is in a position to start checking on people. Retrieving her phone, charging it — all of this takes time, takes effort, takes resources that flicker in and out of immediate reach. And, as it turns out, a super-strong meat shield is a valuable commodity in the aftermath of a citywide emergency.

Her phone tells her—
ZERO (O) NEW MESSAGE(S)
and
NO SERVICE
Not necessarily in that order.

Kimiko hates this part. Hates being separated from the people who matter; the family she's been slowly building, now not knowing if they're dead or alive. She isn't emotionally equipped for the uncertainty. She trusts them, yes. Trusts their intelligence, their abilities. But the worry in the pit of her stomach grows and grows and calcifies into something hard and ugly and unimpeachable. She tries to focus. Helps out where she can. ]

Checking in. Are you okay?

[ The answer she gets is underwhelming, to say the least.

MESSAGE NOT SENT.
MESSAGE NOT SENT. Resend?
MESSAGE NOT SENT. Resend?
MESSAGE NOT SENT. Resend?

Sending.........

MESSAGE NOT SENT.
Try again in a few minutes.

She keeps trying, of course. But she parcels the attempts around everything else, such as being riddled with bullets and having her vehicle stolen by raiders while she's bleeding on the tarmac. ]

Just checking in. Rough out there. Stay safe, okay?
My apartment still has running water.
Go there if you need to.

[ By some miracle, the last line — and only the last line — gets delivered. ]

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