The market square of Tower Ten buzzed liked a charged particle. The citizens—positive, negative, and neutral—pushed through the various stalls and servitors, exchanging scrap and credits for the various goods they’d need throughout the day. The servitors for the agriscientists pushed through, unstoppable in their path.

James took in the sights as he relaxed on a hanging beam above the market, a meat bun from the nearby stall in his hands. It was his break time. Self-imposed, of course. Couriers in the tower worked for no one but themselves.

It was an easy job for James, his natural fitness threw itself into the work like a thunderbolt to the ground. He was wiry, and had arms and legs with more bend than an action figure. A gymnasts body, one of the older farmers had said one time. Not that James knew what a gymnast was.

Tower Ten didn’t get much in the way of entertainment, barring the odd game of televised Voidball. Or the various pickup games on the streets. Only the young played those, anyone older than twelve went to work earning a living. Besides, you had to be a cultivator to really play the game, and no one in Tower Ten held that illustrious position.

James bit into his bun as he watched the crowd. The citizens down below bustled more than usual, probably from the rumors. Apparently a group of cultivators were coming this way. For what, no one could say, but everyone had apparently seen them firsthand.

James didn’t put any stock into it. Cultivators didn’t come out to the agritowers, preferring to live in their jeweled cities and demand resources. No, the cultivators spent their time on other pursuits, immortality if the rumors were true. Instead, they granted their authority to others, and in the agritowers that meant the scientists.

James wasn’t bitter about it, that was just the way the world worked. He was born worse off than most, an orphan left at one of the many care centers in the towers. But with curses came blessings, and the one James received was an almost perfect bodily perception. Even now he knew just how close the buzzing flies around him were, and could probably pick one of them out if he wanted. It was a game he played often when younger, but James had more important things to do now.

The young man stuffed the last of the meat bun into his mouth and stood, balancing on the beam for a second before pushing off. He hung suspended in the air, a brief moment of time when the force of his push counteracted gravity. Then, it came back all at once. The wind rushed through James’s fingers as he plummeted to the ground below.

He stopped himself with a kick off the wall, leaping over and grabbing a line of nearby piping. His left foot caught a small crack in the wall next to him, giving him enough purchase to let go with his right hand and rotate. Now facing away, James again let gravity take hold.

The man skidded down a couple of feet, then reached out to grab a thick line of cord running from one wall to the next. He only let it hold his weight for half a second before swinging off toward the open dumpster lid nearby. James landed with grace, pushing off the wall one final time as he fell with the lid.

He landed with a roll, popping up and stepping out into the street. “Okay, time to make some money.”

James entered the crowd, weaving around everyone with practiced grace. He waved hello to the various street sellers as he moved. He’d learned early on that a friendly face opened more doors.

“Selling enough cakes today, Asuka?”

“Not nearly enough as I’d like!” the merchant called as James moved past.

“I’ll come by later with a big order then!”

Asuka shooed him away with a friendly smile.

“Sujata! Your pipes still leaking?”

“Not since you had a look at them!” Sujata answered with a wave.

“Gyeong! How ya doin?”

“Worse now that I saw your ugly mug!” the street merchant said with cheer.

James laughed and made a rude gesture to the man. He’d learned through the years that everyone had different ways of communicating, and had taught himself to respond accordingly.

The young man continued on his journey, eventually reaching an area so packed that not even the servitors could pass. Not for lack of trying, of course. The metal contraptions, some standing taller than a person, pushed against the crowd. The crowd pushed back, more because there wasn’t any open space to let the servitors through.

James sighed. Another day, another crowd. He applauded those few servitors trying to push through, probably the purchase of someone who recently came into some money. Servitors had another entrance, one much more suited to the robotic contraptions.

The crowd, if you could believe it, was actually a queue for the imposing building up ahead. If one could see over the crowd, they would find an open stone patio, its sides flanked by two statues. The one on the left portrayed a woman in a beautiful five-colored kimono holding a lotus blossom while the one on the right portrayed two golden lions, one with a ball under its foot while the other had a cub. They stood as protectors, one of messengers and one of buildings. They were said to ward off demons, but James didn’t put any stock into it.

Above the entrance, the building flowed upward like a magnet pulling ferrofluid. Each level held a number of radial spikes, smooth at the point and colored in bright, attractive hues. It was purely decorative, the rooms inside didn’t go past the second floor, but it certainly attracted attention. On each end of the building were a series of rails for the messenger trains. These bullet trains traveled all across the empire, special technology making sure the trains always moved on time.

This building acted as the delivery depot for all of Tower Ten, barring the special delivery drones that traveled out to the trains directly. Not everyone could afford the drones, however, which is where James and the other couriers came in.

Mechanics, the lifeblood of the Towers, worked nonstop to keep the various aquifers, sprinklers, and everything else running. Of course, like any essential worker the mechanics were horribly underpaid. Like most on the Tower, mechanics made money per completed job, meaning the more work completed the more they earned. It was more efficient for them to hire a courier to deliver the parts.

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And that was how Tower Ten functioned. The agriscientists ruled at the top, delegating tasks to others below them. Those others, scientists themselves usually, sent orders to the various mechanics and drones in the city. Drones would harvest while mechanics repaired. The mechanics ordered parts and hired couriers to deliver them, who the spent their hard earned credits on rental properties and daily foods.

The system worked as far as James was concerned. He was good at his job and was able to afford a decent place. Someday he would save enough to apprentice under a mechanic and finally be set for life.

James stepped back a bit, finding the right angle for a quick dash up the wall and onto one of the servitors. Another quick step saw him leaping from servitor to servitor until he landed in front of the crowd.

“James, wait your turn like everyone else!” Someone shouted in the crowd.

“I’d never make any money if I did that!” James yelled back.

He sidestepped a particularly angry man who swiped at him and slid through the crowd until he reached the front desk.

“Hey Tsukiko,” James winked. “Got a pickup for Sanjeet. Gotta deliver him some gear for his patch job.”

Tsukiko frowned. “Jumping like a frog again, I see.”

“Only because you put a hop in my step,” James flirted.

Tsukiko and James had grown up at the same orphanage, and ever since James hit puberty he’d been trying to win the woman over. Of course, she seemed to be the only one to see through his jovial persona.

“Right,” she answered with a straight face. She looked down, typing the order request into her computer.

“So, you plan on joining everyone at the Greaser tonight?” James asked.

“Why? So I can see a bunch of drunks yell at a screen?”

James laughed. “Okay, fair. But it isn’t like there isn’t much else to do in town. The Voidball match is the only entertainment they bring out here.”

Tsukiko puckered her lips in quiet thought. “Fine. But only if the Jade Tigers are playing.”

“Why, I do believe that’s exactly the name of one of the teams,” James lied. “See you tonight at nine then?”

“Only if you get your deliveries done,” Tsukiko said. “From the look of this list, Sanjeet has you delivering rotators, nozzles, and all sorts of hydroponics equipment.”

“Won’t be a problem,” James said, taking the ticket printing off of Tsukiko’s computer.

“You’re paying tonight,” Tsukiko said as he waved.

“Of course, my princess!” James bowed.

Tsukiko narrowed her eyes. James took it as his cue to stop. She sure could stare daggers, that one.

James passed through the crowd, making his way toward the delivery bays. Robotic forklifts spun about, performing a dance of code that no human could copy. Every few seconds a new train would appear, folding its roof into robotic cranes. The crane arms kicked up a new dance, sending the forklifts buzzing across the floor like mechanical worker bees. On the far side, couriers and others waited, proffering their tickets and receiving goods.

James followed suit, handing over his ticket after an emotionless, “ticket please,” from a servitor. A few moments later a forklift deposited his goods with a clank. James thanked the machine, more from habit than any sense of sentience in the forklift, then slung the package over his shoulder and walked out the door.

Once free of the throng, James pulled a set of straps from his pocket and wrapped them around the package, turning it into a simple backpack. In one smooth motion, James slung the pack over his shoulder and dashed into the street. The quicker he got to Sanjeet the quicker he could get paid.

James found Old Sanjeet next to a line of dismantled hydroponic equipment, scratching at the node under the base of his skull. Everyone in the world had them, five nodes that ran down a person’s back from their skull to the middle of their spine. Most broke due to the ravages of time. Only the young—and Cultivators—had nodes that weren’t in some form of disrepair. James was actually one of the lucky ones. He’d never had a node breaking injury, something he attributed to his natural physique.

“Delivery!” James shouted over the din of mechanics banging on metal.

Old Sanjeet turned at the noise. A smile plastered his face as he saw James. The old man waved him over.

“How is it I always see you when I’m in a pickle,” Old Sanjeet said good-naturedly.

“That’s because I’m your problem solver,” James smiled.

He placed his pack down on the floor, throwing it open to reveal the various parts.

“Thank ya, thank ya,” Old Sanjeet said.

“So, what broke down this time?” James asked as Old Sanjeet called his crew members over.

“One of the older sprayers,” Old Sanjeet answered with a huff. “I told the Agri guy we needed to clean out the sprayers weeks ago, but he ‘couldn’t afford it.’”

“Loss in efficiency?” James asked.

“Loss in efficiency,” Old Sanjeet nodded. “Or, I’m too lazy to do my damn job.”

“Well, at least it keeps you working,” James said.

Old Sanjeet sighed. “That it does.”

The old man pulled a phone from his pocket. “You got you one of these yet?”

James shook his head. “Still can’t get someone to sell secondhand, and new models are more than what I make in a year.”

Old Sanjeet nodded. “Hard times, these.”

“I get by without,” James said. “Only thing a phone is good for is transferring money.”

Old Sanjeet laughed. “You talk like my grandpap used to. Well, since I can’t transfer something over, give me a second.”

James waited as Old Sanjeet ruffled through his pockets, pulling out various things a young courier might need. Most of it was scrap, pieces of metal or computer that the citizens could recycle for other materials. A part of James wished he had a phone, then he could actually use money instead of barter.

He cursed whoever made money digital, likely one of the immortals. They enforced the decision as well, ruthlessly culling anyone who used physical currency.

“Here ya go,” Old Sanjeet said. “Enough gears and gizmos to last you a week.”

James eyes bulged. “Sanjeet, really?”

The old man laid a hand on James’s head, ruffling his clumped brown hair. “You got here almost ten minutes after the delivery arrived. No easy feet when traveling the Tower. I had planned to spend all day on this.”

James gratefully stashed the materials in his pockets. His mind raced at how to leverage this. He could trade the scrap at the junkyards for credits in his account and then order a secondhand phone. That would let him join the local network and receive credits directly. With no junkyard middleman, James could spend more time working and maybe save up enough in two years to learn under a mechanic.

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” James said as tears formed in his eyes.

Old Sanjeet gave him a knowing stare. “Oh, I have an inkling. Now, get outta here. I’m sure you got more deliveries to do today.”

James thanked him again and left, running towards the nearest mechanics to ask if they had any deliveries that needed carrying.

When the day finished at eight in the evening, James found himself not only with a whole pack of materials, but also enough to fill his pockets. Everyone was tipping James generously today.

“It’s because of the rumors,” Tsukiko said after they both left the delivery depot.

“The ones about the Cultivators?” James asked.

“Someone saw a group of them heading this way,” Tsukiko said. “Everyone thinks another test is coming.”

James laughed. “Cultivators don’t come to the towers for testing. They have their cities for that.”

Sure, there were stories about immortal Cultivators taking lone orphans from the Towers because they spied hidden talent, but it wasn’t something that actually happened. They were the dreams of the desperate. Cultivators recruited from their megacities, getting the pick of the litter from the myriad of families and sects living there. Heading to a supply tower to recruit was like ruffling through a gutter for spare change.

“Everyone thinks that if they’re generous, a Cultivator will see their righteous behavior and whisk them away to the world of their dreams,” Tsukiko laughed.

James laughed with her as he escorted her to Greasers. The two had long given up on dreams.