The rain descended, if only as a brief respite from the relentless accumulation of dust and grime that had become synonymous with the city. I shrouded myself in my hoodie and embarked on my journey. The first building I encountered was my portal, and I navigated from one rooftop to the next, the ever-persistent wail of sirens echoing in the background. I lapsed into a form of autopilot, my muscle memory ensuring that I traversed this urban terrain, while my thoughts embarked on their own excursion.
It had been nearly two years since I undertook the mantle of a Courier. There was little left to remember about my family, or at least, the past had become so obscure that it was virtually unverifiable. On this unforgiving world, life was a ceaseless struggle, where violence was a daily currency. And presiding over it all were mega-corporations like MainFrame, who enticed the masses with unattainable promises. For most, existence devolved into a form of serfdom on the Melrose farms, where one's sanity eroded to the point of self-inflicted oblivion, either through self-destruction or the destruction of others. Beneath this desperate multitude existed people like me, Couriers, NeuroSlicers, and others who bartered away pieces of their minds and bodies. And further below, in society's depths, were those who would resort to any means for a few precious credits – a life of criminality to gain access to the digital heavens or to submerge themselves in the narcotic escape known as Dream.
Yet, on the city's outskirts, far removed from the heart of chaos, there was a remnant of civilization. Neighborhoods like Green Ring posed as quasi-suburbs, offering a semblance of safety. And beyond, on the cusp of the desolation that consumed most of the world, lay the fortified enclave of Sapphire Summit. Here, the new elite of the world, remnants of the past's engineers and corporate leaders, savored the dreams extracted from the masses.
BAM!
Abruptly, a thunderous impact erupted beside me, concrete splintering from a nearby chimney. I reacted with haste, taking cover. Was it a stray bullet? I pondered.
Subsequent shots confirmed my theory. I was not the target. Amid the cacophony of sirens, screams, and car horns reverberating through the squalid alleys, I carefully rose, my hand clenching my precious knife. I approached the ledge.
Again, the shots rang out. Then, an explosion rent the air, and the city streets were bathed in crimson flames and shrouded in dark smoke. I lay my body on the ground, moving cautiously, while digital zoom enabled my mechanical eyes to decipher the chaos.
In the midst of the street stood a man, brandishing a makeshift rifle. It was the kind of weapon one could procure for a pittance on the black market.
His cybernetic arms, the bargain-bin variety, were a sight to behold. Exposed cables snaked across the bared metal, a network of gritty conduits through which ran the vital pulses of his existence. Grimy oil clung to these mechanical limbs, seemingly an afterthought, unadorned and untouched by the artifice of cosmetic refinement. These utilitarian appendages spoke of a life marked by harshness, a ceaseless toil that left no room for luxury or indulgence. His bare chest bore a metallic contraption with multiple inputs – unmistakable to me.
It was a Deciton, a mechanical apparatus designed to interface with the Neo Future factory's automation systems. Similar to my Receptacle, these devices were leased by employees from their corporate overlords, a pact signed in blood and credits.
This man was a factory worker, appearing to be in his mid-thirties, although it was challenging to discern amidst the harsh conditions and unrelenting hours that drained the life from laborers.
Another shot pierced the air.
I instinctively shielded my face, though I wasn't his target. Strewn across the street were multiple lifeless bodies, their blood pooling amidst the shattered glass and twisted metal – the aftermath of a car crash that triggered the explosion.
Further down the road, a young boy struggled to drag a woman, presumably his mother. Her head bled profusely, and zooming in, I could see that she hadn't survived, her skull partially obliterated. It was a hopeless endeavor.
The man moved towards the young boy, his shouts nonsensical. Such situations had become increasingly frequent in a society devouring itself, symptomatic of a growing maelstrom of despair. This was a lone gunman, ensnared in a barely remunerative job, bound by a legal contract that suffocated his identity.
Life as a Neo Future employee was a brutal ordeal. In this already dystopian world, acquiring the cybernetic augmentations necessary for work often cost more than the meager earnings of a standard workweek. To accumulate a decent income, employees had to undertake ceaseless, often underpaid extra shifts, clinging to the hope that some of those hard-earned credits would one day return to them. The system was riddled with flaws, leaving little room for alternatives.
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He fired once more, this time hitting the young boy in the chest.
My hand instinctively reached for my knife, but as my fingers brushed its cold surface, I hesitated. What could I do, after all?
The answer was painfully clear – nothing.
These situations were proliferating, emblematic of the profound hopelessness pervading the city and the world. People were bereft of any optimism or prospects, except for the elusive sanctuary of MainFrame Heaven, attainable by a fortunate few, or the numbing embrace of the Dream drug. For the majority, life was a form of servitude under the corporate overlords.
Again, shots echoed through the streets. Three more rounds, two in the woman and a final shot in the child. Their lifeless forms now lay in a crimson pool.
My hand remained poised over my concealed knife, its blade unshorn.
There was nothing to be done.
As sirens drew nearer, two police cars arrived at breakneck speed, skidding to a halt. Officers swiftly emerged, using their vehicles as impromptu cover while aiming their weapons on the shooter. He was in the midst of reloading, his nonsensical screams unabated.
"My wife! My house! My kid! My kid! MY KID! MY KID!"
He spiraled into a repetitive diatribe. As soon as he completed reloading, he aimed his rifle at the officers. In a matter of seconds, the police responded with a volley of shots, far more than was necessary. The gunman's body was decimated.
His lifeless form slumped to the ground, the makeshift rifle sliding into a puddle of water, the downpour washing away the blood and black oil that coated his now lifeless form. The street fell suddenly silent, save for the sound of rain pattering against metal and concrete. In the distance, the once fiery explosion had transmuted into a thick plume of smoky darkness, rising ominously into the sky. Blue and red police lights painted ever-shifting patterns across the urban landscape.
I leaned back against the low wall of the rooftop, taking a deep, contemplative breath.
This world was in the throes of a protracted demise.
Via my heads-up display I accessed my savings account ;
6,785,941 Credits.
I was on the cusp of escape, tantalizingly close to realizing my dream. Every credit I earned, every waking moment invested in that account, every memory I had lost was a step towards liberation from this relentless hell.
I sat there, lost in my thoughts, as the rain washed over me, its droplets trickling down my hoodie and obscuring my vision.
"Almost there," I repeated to myself, an incantation to sustain my resolve.
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As I sat there, grappling with the struggle to muster the willpower needed to continue, the urban cacophony was suddenly disrupted by the descent of a helicopter, its roaring blades cutting through the night air and the billowing black smoke. A brilliant searchlight pierced the gloom, illuminating the grimy streets and shadowed rooftops. A powerful beam of light that cleaved through the pervasive shroud of darkness, revealing the squalor and devastation that festered below. The symbol on the helicopter's flank left no room for ambiguity – Neo Future.
Rising to my feet, I fixated on the unfolding spectacle :
The mechanical behemoth hung ominously in the sky, a sentinel of corporate might. Two Neo Future Security agents, donned in gleaming, silver suits of armor and faceless chrome helmets, rappelled down to the rain-soaked asphalt below.
I watched as one of these enigmatic figures approached the lifeless body of the fallen gunman, efficiently securing it to a cable lowered by the hovering helicopter. With mechanical precision, the body was hoisted up and ferried away as the second guard made used of a portable scanner to check the rest of the bodies laying on the bloody post-battle street. After verification, the macabre performance was then repeated for the young boy and the woman who had died at the hands of the desperate factory worker. Once their remains were hoisted aboard, the Neo Future Security agents were swiftly reeled in, and the helicopter soared into the distance, vanishing into the bleak expanse of the city. The cold pragmatism of this common operation was chilling – these unfortunate souls, all likely indentured employees of Neo Future, would be dismembered, their organs harvested and sold to settle their outstanding debts to the company. Even the battered remains of the Deciton apparatus could be salvaged for the next unfortunate soul bound by the corporation's relentless contract.
In the distance, another shot echoed through the night, prompting the police to hastily abandon the scene. The subsequent arrival of the coroner team ensured the swift, unceremonious removal of the remaining victims' lifeless forms, leaving behind a chilling tableau of destruction – the shattered vehicle, the debris, and the untidy aftermath. It would persist, a poignant reminder of a city perpetually teetering on the brink of despair, slowly melding into its bleak urban landscape.
Once again, a piercing headache pulsed through my skull, the cruel memento that the city's inexorable decay mirrored the disintegration of my own sanity. Swiftly, I retrieved my vial of Beta-Blockers, one small pill dissolving within the confines of my mouth, its soothing embrace a rapid antidote to the chaos around me.
It was time to retreat to the sanctuary of my home. With renewed determination, I turned away from the unsettling scene and leaped to the adjacent rooftop, my sprint carrying me further from the scene, with the distant hope of reaching the flickering beacon of normalcy in the heart of this disintegrating city.