The cops converged on the four of them kneeling in the park.
“Disengage your game avatars,” a tall, mustached officer said.
They all complied, and Reese saw Samantha’s avatar wasn’t far off from reality. Bright red hair, shaved over her right ear to allow her goggle diode to connect to her temple… that was how she beat him. She had better tech—and she broke the law.
A female officer stood in front of the quartet of racers. “Now, this was a sanctioned race, so only one of y’all are in trouble. Make it easy on us and tell us who ran the red light and scared three motorists half to death?”
Reese did his very best not to eyeball Samantha. He wasn’t in the business of getting other racers in trouble with the law—it was bad for his reputation, and his Rank points. Plus, nobody got hurt, so what was the big deal?
“No one? Don’t make me review your logs,” the officer warned sternly.
Reese gritted his teeth. He’d been looking right at her when she’d crossed.
“All right. Have it your way,” the woman said with a shrug, then pointed to Reese. “You first young man.”
His heart leapt into his throat. The officer asked Reese to stand, and he did putting his glove hand behind his back. He ran his middle then index finger across his thumb to open his playback, then tapped and held his pinky finger.
“Show us what you’ve seen,” the woman said, standing back and placing a projection node on the ground.
Reese panned back to the moment just before Samantha dashed across the street, then activated the connection to his home render system. He highlighted the periphery data to his right, and rendered it all in a heartbeat. Then twisted his thumb in a circle around his pinky to replace what he had seen—Samantha running through traffic—with a view of the park down the street, as if he were looking at the objective.
He projected the false playback to the node the officer had dropped on the ground. One second, Reese’s view was pointed across the street at the red light. The view jostled as he bounced from foot to foot with anticipation. Then, the playback turned right and the park dungeon highlight came into view.
The office glared at Reese with knowing annoyance. “Is that it, son?”
“Mhmm,” Reese mumbled and cut the display.
The office moved to Samantha next. She had a cocksure expression that Reese wanted to wipe off her face. He’d just done her a huge favor. Getting nailed by the cops would set her back serious RP, and Reese had no doubt she was going for the Ascension Heat, too.
“Now you, miss,” the officer said.
Samantha didn’t hesitate in letting the officer have it. “This is a breach of my digital civil liberties.”
“Not when there’s probable cause,” the mustached officer snapped.
“Fine, but only because I want to show you how stupid you’re being.” Samantha tossed her gloved-hand forward, throwing the playback of her race into the AR space before them instead of using the officer’s node. Reese assumed she wanted to keep her data off the records. Smart…
The display showed Samantha running up behind Reese, then the light turned green. She ran past him at full speed, then there was a glitch to her right. A car came to a quick stop at the yellow line on the ground and Samantha hopped out of the way, then ran on. She cut the playback before she finished crossing the street.
“There. Happy?” She asked.
Reese tried not to sigh. How could she have next-gen tech strapped to her head and produce that sub-par fake?
“Very,” the female officer said. “You know, jaywalking is just a little fine, but tampering with evidence is on a whole ’nother level.”
The officer turned back to Reese. “You got anything else you’d like to show me?”
Reese shook his head.
The officer waved her gloved hand through the air and pulled up the race results. There was Samantha H. hanging at the top, all the winner’s rewards next to her name. She glanced between Reese and the score board. “You sure? Looks like she did you wrong with that move.”
“I was looking for power-ups, not at the street,” Reese said with a shrug.
The officer nodded. “Uh huh. All right. Head on home, all y’all. And no jaywalking!"
“Officer Jordan,” the mustached officer protested.
The woman—officer Jordan—waved him off. “I don’t got time for these cocky-ass kids. If they get hit by a car running through a red light, that’s their own damn fault. No fine after the fact is gonna do anybody any good.”
The mustached man fumed, and Jordan gestured for the kids to rise.
“Remember this,” she said, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “Those cars are going forty to eighty miles per hour depending on what street your dumb ass is running through. Forty miles per hour can kill you in a blink, take away your legs, or your mind. Next time you think about getting a few extra Reputation Points—”
“It’s Rank points,” Reese blurted, then snapped his mouth shut.
Officer Jordan glared at him in disbelief. “I don’t care if its Lizard Skizard points, next time you risk your life for a fake currency, imagine being strapped to a wheelchair with a shit bag hanging off your stomach.”
Everyone was quiet. Reese had thought of it, not in such gory detail, but he knew he had to be careful… which was why he didn’t blast through the red like Samantha. Though, she had won because of it.
“Dumbass kids,” Jordan said, shaking her head. “Now get on home, legally. If I get called again for you, you’re all going to juvenile for a night.”
Reese bowed his head, his cheeks burning. “Yes, ma’am.”
He retrieved his dagger hilt from the ground and stuffed it into his belt loop. The officers got back in their cars, the mustache man complaining the whole way. Samantha followed behind Reese, making him glance over his shoulder.
“What do you want?” he asked with a growl.
She shrugged. “I was going to say thanks, but not with that attitude.”
Reese tutted. “Attitude? Please. Enjoy that cool shoulder.”
“I already have a pair. Here,” she cast her hand out and tossed the spiked single-shoulder pad into Reese.
A popup appeared in his vision with the item details.
~[Spiked Pauldron of Strength]~
Class {RARE} Type {SHOULDER} Restrictions {NONE}
Attributes {+4 Strength} {+15 Armor} {+1 Agility} {Minus .2 seconds on race times}
--
Reese’s mouth fell agape. “Holy balls.”
Samantha chuckled. “I’m guessing you don’t have a lot of gear?”
“I’ve got plenty,” he restored, feeling her judgmental gaze upon him.
She lifted her gloved hand, then made a come-hither motion, pulling Reese’s character sheet out of his AR projection so the whole world could see.
[https://imgur.com/VOgEjYR][https://imgur.com/VOgEjYR.jpg]
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The digital projection of his inventory appeared at the flick of her finger, revealing the single bangle on his right arm.
“Uh huh. Well, Reese, enjoy your well-deserved shoulder pad.” She made a shooing motion and the character sheet rushed back into Reese’s avatar.
She strutted past him with a wink. “See you around.”
Reese walked down the main street of the bustling city he had lived in for only a few days. AR signs flashed at him and his goggles, advertising thing is like the best bar in town, the hottest waiting those around, and shoe stores. Reese wanted a moment for himself, so he tapped all his fingers together on his AR hands, to disengage the AR vision through his goggles. The colorful blinking lights faded away, until only his simple heads-up display remains. He turned that off to, and then pulled his goggles from his head.
The city looked so plain without the AR overlay. It was just concrete ground and concrete walls with cars driving here and there, and infrequent pedestrian walking by. Some buildings were still tagged in the old spray-paint manner, leaving little messages, pieces of art, or tags here and there. Most of the building tagging happened in AR now, especially because there was no consequence for such a thing.
Reese heard the distant hooting of a bird and looked around to find it. It wasn't a beautiful bird, just a pigeon sitting on top of the building. He grimaced and pulled his goggles back on, then activated his AR vision. The world once again came to life color, flashing lights, and infrequently sounds. Reese wasn't sure who had programmed the digital birds the area, but they had done a decent job of mimicking the ones he'd seen at school, and on the video screens.
He arrived at the bus station and took a seat on the bench. He admired his new shoulder pad for a while, then pulled up one of his favorite Peep feeds. It was HiddenHunter, one of the best racers in the game. He always had some great tips, and helpful insight to give to younger racers. HiddenHunter’s feed wasn’t streaming live, but it was still pushing out content. When someone's peep feed got big enough, they would just play old content on repeat.
Reese watched a video about Kong vaulting tips all the way home on the bus, and when he got off at his apartment building, the sun was nearly set. Reese activated the AR locking mechanism on the front door of the building, and put in his code to get in. He took the stairs two at a time, then vaulted the railing at the top to his floor, the fourth. Reese liked living on the fourth floor. It gave him good opportunities to sit on the balcony and banish his fear of heights.
When he walked into the apartment, his mother, Sheila, was waiting for him in the living room.
“Where were you tonight?” she asked. Her tone was hard and accusing. She wasn’t really asking, she was telling him she knew where he’d been, but wanted to give him the illusion he had a choice not to start this argument. It was a trap. Reese knew the second he lied, she was going to pull out the police statement, or a screengrab from his Peeps feed he shouldn’t have broadcasted—but he needed the viewer XP.
Reese set his pack down on the couch. “I leveled up at a local Street Heat. I’m eligible to go for the Ascension Heat so I can finally be a ranked racer.”
Sheila looked down with a sigh. “How many times, Reese? That game is not only dangerous, but there’s no future there! That’s why we moved to South Palm, to get you into a good, technical high school.”
Reese wasn’t going to take that bait either. He’d argued with his mom on more than one occasion over the reason for the move, and why he had to go at all.
“I just wanted to make some new friends,” Reese said with a shrug, steering the argument away from Street Heat.
His mother eyed him incredulously. “And did you?”
The image of the fiery-tempered girl with red hair came to mind… Samantha. “Maybe.”
Sheila shook her head. “Why not try to make friends at school? We could set up a study group here, maybe make it a pizza party!”
“Mom, that would make me a laughingstock. This is high school, not some eleven-year-old’s birthday party.”
“I think you underestimate the power of pizza,” his mother said.
Reese groaned and walked around half-unpacked boxes toward the kitchen. He pulled a takeout tray from the bottom shelf of the nearly-empty fridge and opened it up. Even cold, the smell of marinated meat, limes, fresh onions, cilantro, and spicy tomatillo salsa made him salivate.
Reese’s mother followed him to the kitchen and took the tray from him. She got to work making up a plate and sent Reese to the high-top next to the living room couch—also piled high with boxes. Reese watched as she heated the tortillas for the tacos, browning them just the way he liked. He didn’t often get this kind of treatment since his parents were so busy with the business.
“I’ve got an idea,” Sheila said, dropping the full plate in front of Reese. She looked genuinely excited, and Reese didn’t want to spoil it.
“Oh?” he asked.
“How about a karaoke party at the restaurant, appetizers on us?” She beamed.
Reese winced. “I don’t know if karaoke is still in, Mom.”
“What? Karaoke is never out! It’s so great.” She turned back to the kitchen, washing the dishes, and putting away the ingredients.
Reese grabbed the first taco on the plate, then stopped. “Mom, aren’t you proud of me? I made it to level six and hit over two hundred Rank Points. I can finally rank up, name my avatar, pick a class, and start joining the 3v3 races. Well, once I pass the Ascension Heat.”
Sheila set a pan out to dry and turned to face her son with a pained smile. “Of course I’m proud of you. I just wish you’d put that same level of effort into your education, your future.”
Reese scowled and set the food down. “What if Street Heat is my future? I love the game, and I’m passionate about making it. Isn’t that enough for you to be happy for me?”
“Honey…” Sheila came around the island and sat next to him at the breakfast bar. “Street Heat is dangerous, it’s very difficult to get paid to do it, and the risk of permanent injury is not insignificant.”
“That last part’s not true and you know it. It’s just Gen Z propaganda to hate on Gen S. It’s like the avocado toast excuse!”
“It’s not like that at all… why am I arguing with you about memes? No. Reese, the game is dangerous. It’s a fun thing to do on the weekends, but I don’t want you to be starving on the streets or working some back-breaking job just so you can support this fantasy game habit.”
“Habit?” Reese’s mouth went bitter, his appetite gone. “Street Heat’s not Digi-Drip, Mom, it’s a community of really great people.”
She sighed, grimacing. “I didn’t mean it like that, but you know what I mean. I’ve seen the notebooks where you analyze your races. You’re always on some racer’s Peeper Feed—
Reese facepalmed. “It’s just Peep, Mom, not Peeper… That’s a different app.”
She frowned in disgust. “Right. The point is, you obsess about the game, Reesey. I just want to see you have a well-rounded high school career, so you have lots of opportunity in your future.”
Reese scowled. “My future is Street Heat. I want to be a Traceur First Class, and course designer.”
Sheila grabbed her son’s face in her palm and rubber her thumb across his cheek. “How about a backup plan? One that takes into account being permanently bound to a wheelchair?”
The cop’s words came back to him and the vision of a poop bag hanging off his guts filled his mind. Reese shook his head and groaned, forcing the image away.
“That doesn’t happen very often. All kinds of sports have injury risk—like American Football, or boxing. Concussions are a big deal, too.”
“Which you can get a concussion by falling off a roof, along with a broken spine and skull. Is that what you want?” She asked with a snap.
Reese could tell she was getting frustrated with him. He shouldn’t have let her pull him into the conversation. He should’ve just nodded along and said, “Yes, Mom. You’re right mom,” until he’d made it to his room.
“No, I don’t want a broken spine,” he said, lifting the now cold taco to his mouth. He couldn’t help but mumble before taking a bite, “It’s why I practice.”
The laser gaze of his angry parent burned on his cheek. “You’re a bold kid talking to your mother like that. You think I don’t know anything because I’m old, well son, that’s how I do know things.
“And I know you practice. I’ve seen you coming home with your knees skinned up, your palms bruised, fingers swollen, and a hundred other injuries. I don’t want to see the day you come home in a full body cast, or worse.”
Reese sighed. “But that’s not going to happen to me! Rank zero can’t go above two stories, which isn’t even that far to fall.”
“It’s three stories,” she said. Reese looked at her curiously, and she smirked. “Yes, I learned about the rules of the dangerous game my only son engages in.”
Reese deflated, then took another huge bite of the taco. “Yes, mom, you’re right. It’s dangerous.”
“And you’re going to stop playing?” she asked, hopeful.
Reese almost choked on his bite. “That was not what I was saying. I’m conceding. The game is dangerous, so I’ll buy better protective gear once I hit Rank One.”
Sheila crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. “Your negotiation skills are weak. What kind of protective gear?”
“Helmet, knee and shin protectors, and maybe a spine protector,” Reese said with a mouth full of food.
“Wow, and who is paying for it all?” Sheila asked.
“Well, my birthday—”
“Brrr! Wrong answer,” his mother cut in.
Reese sighed. “My savings will cover the spine protector or the helmet. What do you want intact more?”
Sheila glared, unamused. “Your father and I will talk about helping with one of those for your birthday.”
“Then I guess I’ll pick up a shift or two at the restaurant to make some more to cover the rest,” Reese grinned and stuffed the last taco in his mouth.
Sheila hummed. “That’s a good start, but I want more than that. You need to be getting at least B’s, just in case you don’t love Street Heat forever… and you need to make one friend at school.”
“Deal.” Reese agreed, beaming.
“Wait, no I want to revise it. Meet one new friend at school—”
“Nope, I already agreed!” Reese said, picking up his empty plate to wash.
“It can’t be someone you meet through racing and goes to your school. That’s not going to count!” Sheila called after Reese as he retreated down the hall to his room.
“Fine, fine,” Reese shouted over his shoulder with a smile. He’d gotten out of that one for now, and he had his mother’s tentative approval of his ascension to Rank One. He’d just wish she would’ve been as excited as he was but accepting would be good enough.
Reese flopped on his bed and activated the computer interface in his AR-goggles. The Titanium browser opened at the flick of his wrist, and the saved page loaded. The Rank Ascension Heat was in just six weeks. That was a lot of time to drop out of the ascension zone.
He flicked over to the regional scoreboard to see where he was. He’d dropped from the top ten percent in his old stomping grounds up north, to now the top twenty percent in South Palm. Top twenty was all he needed to be eligible to run the Ascension race, and so he was happy he’d been able to earn that.
His eyes flickered to the Rank Points at the corner of his vision. He had just enough to enter the race, and maybe a little left over for a new item—but what? He had that new shoulder, but could tell that racers like Samantha were going to be decked out in everything they had. He’d have to bring it hard, and pick his upgrades carefully.
After hours of hunting through the auction house, nothing caught his attention—for the right price, at least. He yawned, set his alarm for seven in the morning, then slipped his AR goggles off his head and drifted into sleep.