Do they expect me to time travel?
They released past noon in an area that isn't familiar so it's impossible to play twelve hours today.
It's a weird place remote from the city center worth going to and falls outside the industrial zone too. The boys never come this far.
"Let's see what you are." The sign at the crosswalk is the perfect spot to check the phone's maps. "So is this where the bus turns around?"
It has all the features of the previous one, except it tracks better.
All the apps are the same, so they cloned the old one and didn't return it which feels sketchy.
The government smartphones weren't made to respect our privacy anyway.
Oh, how people celebrated the first batches. Now they will beep if it isn't kept in the pockets.
It's crazy how everyone is under surveillance, and our method of forgetting it on the bus will no longer work.
Whether a phone fan or not, it won't let me go with the boys, which might be for the better.
The Boss loves to fiddle with it, playing adult without understanding how things work. If only we had the luxury to live like normal teens.
We could travel because the phone lets us take the bus for free, yet the feds want to keep us home. It's weird logic but it could be worse.
"Beep if you are eavesdropping." No reaction.
The worst part is the ugly neon-green case they gave with it. Even before they became mandatory it was obvious what they used them for.
I called them the downfall of civilization, liking to throw heavy phrases around at that age.
There was a story about a guy who got arrested for hacking. That was the only time they took someone's governmental phone without a replacement.
They kicked him off the yard without a map or money, and he didn't know how to get home.
According to the map, walking back is a realistic option too, so yes, it can be worse. The bus stop is around the corner though.
The electric vehicle rolls in dead silent, an older model that's almost empty and smells of oil.
Since they'll track all day now, there is no room for adventures.
Let's take the right bus home, the only luxury allowed is to jump off a stop early at the arcades.
The yard is closer than expected, and the credits burn these pockets.
It's not like one of those fancy big plazas in the middle of town, only some discount place popular with the slums.
"Hah, this feels much more like home."
They have the games that got thrown out from the better places, and it's cheaper too. It feels risky to walk around with this box here though.
People could notice the fancy new controller if it isn't after lunchtime when the place is dead.
This repurposed old industry building saw better days, yet it has everything.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
They spent no money on paint jobs or floor tiles. They brought slot machines and decade-old games, providing a place to gather instead.
There's a general store with cashiers who don't ask for identification, and let me buy those packs at last.
The cravings could kill at this point, and nine of the ten credits are gone after buying a lighter.
The cashier hands over the goods only after the phone touches his till.
"Thanks, take care." He says and I nod and scramble with the booty.
After starving for almost forty-eight hours, the first thing is to take a long drag. The cigarette is lit before leaving the store and he complains.
"Hey, we're a nonsmoker shop, don't burn the place down!"
Screw him, these lungs need their poison to calm after all that shit.
The shaking is gone by the third drag, replaced by dry coughs, yet I can live with that, walking towards a food stall next.
The one in the arcade sells questionable GMO stuff that tastes like the real thing.
"Give me the cheapest nastiest burger you have."
The order makes the guy behind the counter chuckle.
He must be new at least to me, and the huge LED sign advertising them shines brighter than the sun.
After all the dim lights in the last two days, it blinds even in the daylight.
"That will be eighty-nine." He says and my fingers tap on the one, so he has to give physical change.
He doesn't assume it's a tip, only smart people work here, otherwise what's the point of hiring them?
The AI can do everything well enough and for free.
"Here's your change."
"Thanks, looks good."
It does, making me wolf it down on the go.
It tastes great too, the fat and sugar get ingested into the system as fast as if injected through an IV.
Rumor has it, that more people died after eating here than from getting shot. There aren't many shootings though.
Who wants to live forever anyway?
With another cigarette lit for good measure, the next stop should be the Container Park.
The change disappears into a slot machine first though. Dad's luck didn't rub off on me, the neighbors said he won twice the day he was gone.
The cigarette goes down fast and tempts to light one more, but the prospects are grim.
Going out with the boys is out of the question, so these must last.
Buying tobacco for the cheap and rolling them thinner would have been a better option. Thinking while hungry isn't my forte.
The box is still with me though, it could be worth a lot, yet the cops would be in my ass if I sold it on the black market.
It's a great turnout compared to the failed heist that couldn't pay for a pack of smoke. Well, luck might abandon me faster than my father did.
He either got robbed or drunk enough to die that night.
Mom was already sick so running away is still the most likely.
Shit, he isn't worth enough to think about it too much. The crib is near, a fifteen-minute walk, one more cig for the road should do.
"Fuck that asshole, who needs him?" The heavy vanilla scent relieves the tension, tobacco wouldn't have the same.
Next time for sure, let's buy the cheaper one.
Walking in the shadow of the huge dam is depressing, legends say this city used to be beautiful.
When the sea levels caused panic, they built this monstrosity that ruined the harbor.
The world's largest port disappeared from one day to the next.
Since trade no longer passed through here, they had no interest in this place anymore. A flood of refugees came instead.
The feds didn't like it when the Container Park was born, but couldn't deal with the housing crisis.
As the name suggests, people moved into the containers left behind by trade companies.
It became a dense population center outside the proper city, with nothing to steal or die for.
So even with the rise of illegal gun ownership, people have no reason to shoot each other as they do across the ocean.
The police can find the suspects when they want and they go hard on homicide. They are the last state-owned businesses that don't rely on AI alone.
The sentences are harsh, so nobody wants to piss them off.
The experience is fresh about how they didn't need specific reasons to put anyone behind bars.
So the slums are safer than one would think, and it's cheap enough that even kids can survive.
An odd job with the boys can set us straight for a week. Or that's how it was before, now I'm in this government bullshit program.
Spending twelve hours a day on their stupid game sounds as bad as going to jail. It might be worth selling that box instead.
"A few more minutes and your secrets will be mine."