He pulled his old black sedan up to the front of the airport, double-checking his phone as he rolled to a stop. He was at the right place, at the right gate even, but there was no sign of his would-be client. Not that he knew what the guy looked like but he assumed someone would be waiting outside for a ride.

Pulling up the Poole app on his phone he sent out a quick message. Nothing fancy, a simple ‘Out Front’ to hopefully get them in gear. The response back was quick. Apparently, they were having some trouble finding their luggage and would 'be a minute'. That phrase forced a huff from his chest as he translated it to mean 'several minutes'.

He took up the job because he was bored, not to be bored.

He turned up the radio, on more for the background noise than anything else, and started scrolling down the apps on his phone. Mostly reposts, funny reposts but reposts all the same. Nothing new, only something he could absently look through as he waited. The radio started to earn more attention than half an ear.

The local DJ, DJ *Medieval Horn* Adven-Tune, was tearing into some poor farmer over something ridiculous. "-thinks he saw some jackalope, of all things, eating his crops. A whole 'bundle' of antlered bunnies stuffing themselves on-". The mean spirit felt unnecessary but the DJ was right. Even the idea of a jackalope sighting was completely ridiculous. Exactly the sort of brainless news you'd expect from an afternoon DJ.

A knock on his window jolted him to attention, giving him an eyeful of a skinny white guy in a business suit. Business suit waved with his phone in hand, looking to the world like a bundle of nerves.

"Are you, uh, 'Hero Hero'?" The man asked as the window rolled down.

"Hiro Hierro." He did not sigh, he corrected. He was far too used to the mispronunciation to even be annoyed anymore. "You Arthur? Find your bags alright?" Or as much as he used to.

"Ah, yeah," Arthur said, holding up an overstuffed roller. "Should I just…"

"I'll pop the trunk. You can toss it there."

"Right, thanks."

A minute later Hiro had them on the road, rolling towards Arthur's hotel. Unfortunately, it was not a ride to be filled with silence. That was a rarity in Hiro's job. People liked to talk, they liked to make noise. If not with him then with someone, or something, on their phone. And Arthur did not seem interested in his phone. Not with the way he kept twirling it between his hands.

"So, your name is Heero? Right?" He started and Hiro could already hear the wrong vowel being said. A long ‘e’ instead of the proper ‘iy’ sound. "Like the Greeks or Gundam Wing?"

He never watched Gundam, anime was more his sister's thing, but he knew it was Japanese. And Japanese meant it was the right way to say his name. Probably. "Like Gundam. My Dad thought it would be funny and I've been suffering ever since."

"I bet, I bet." He started to tap his phone against his knee, making a mindless beat. "I got a bunch of King Arthur jokes as a kid. And Arthur ones, like that old PBS cartoon. You know the one I'm talking about?"

"I think so," Hiro answered, eyes on the road as his GPS directed him around another turn. He didn't need it, he had driven around Steelsworth enough to know the way to most things. Especially to the various motels and hotels of the city. It was the kind of intimate knowledge that came with being a Poole driver. Still, it was better safe than sorry. So the GPS stayed, especially when it broke up the client's talking.

"Got a lot of crap for that. Aquaman jokes too, mostly from my friends but still." He kept making that beat, and ‘beat’ was a very generous term. It had no rhythm, rhyme, or reason. It was a mindless noise, a nervous tic. It also showed that the phone was dead.

The thing didn’t light up once. Phones, in Hiro's experience, usually did when they were in motion. "Do you need a charger? I've got most of the popular ones here. Feel free to plug in."

"Huh, oh." Arthur paused and looked at his phone. The screen went white for a second as he checked the power. Hiro was apparently wrong about it being dead. "Actually, yeah, it could use a top-off."

There was a second of silence followed by the ruffle from plugging in the device. The second lasted long enough for the radio to whisper out "-question is do they taste like rabbit or venison? I mean-". The quiet did not last long, Arthur would not allow it. His anxious chatter filled the minutes as Hiro drove on.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Hiro did not mean to be rude, he made a habit of avoiding it if he could, but he tuned Arthur out. Just a bit. He contributed to the conversation in bursts, listening in bits. From what he could pick up Arthur had come to Hiro's little city on a business trip. His higher ups were showing him a huge amount of trust by letting him handle a 'minor' business deal by himself. With PanChema, the big money maker of Steelsworth, no less.

Hiro figured that there might have been a bit of nepotism going on there. People would never let someone so young handle such an important thing otherwise. Even if the other company was based in the middle of nowhere Virginia. There had to be a reason, not necessarily a good one but a reason all the same.

The hotel was about a twenty minute drive. The airport was not that far outside city limits, though it was far enough out for some local farmers to complain about the noise.

The hotel was a nice place, barely on the affordable side of upscale. A perfect fit for someone like Arthur. The man himself seemed eager to get out of the car. Ready to start prepping for his big presentation if his chatter was anything to go by.

Arthur surprised Hiro by stopping at the driver's side window, his retrieved suitcase in one hand and a folded fifty in the other. Most people paid through the app, which Hiro preferred as he rarely carried any paper money of his own. Much less enough to break the change of a bill nearly worth twice as much as the fare.

"Here, keep the change." He said, squaring his shoulders as he looked towards the four-story building. "Wish me luck."

Hiro obliged. His single word of encouragement followed behind the man as he walked through the doors. Why he needed luck so soon Hiro could only guess but never complain about it. It got him a hefty tip after all.

Hiro flicked open his Poole app and marked Arthur down as 'paid in cash', giving the time a second glance as he did. Not exactly early but not too late either. While he could put in a few more hours he felt no guilt in 'clocking out' early.

It was one of the perks of being a Poole driver, choosing your own hours. More or less. It was appealing, if not for the lack of benefits. If he wasn't already working a steady job at the dealership he would have never signed on.

With the rest of his day free Hiro decided to do a quick swing by his apartment, grab a few things, and head out again. His parents wanted him over for a family dinner and he was sure they wouldn't mind him doing a load or two of laundry while he was there.

He considered it an advance payment for the crap he was sure to endure.

He had just loaded his backseat with laundry when he heard it. A phone ring.

An actual phone ring. Not a tune or a buzz of a cellphone but a series of those old fashioned bells. He patted his pockets to be safe but his phone sat motionless. He even pulled it out to check the screen but no one was calling.

Finally, resignedly, he looked towards his center console. There, plugged into one of his many chargers, an off white phone rang away. Hiro groaned, recognizing both the phone and the situation. Clients forgot their phones in his car all the time, especially if they were in a rush or distracted. Which Arthur was.

Most everyone did the same thing when they realized what happened, panic. After that, and some calming breaths, they would have their heads on straight enough to figure out what to do next. Namely calling the phone and hoping that their driver was kind enough to make a return trip.

Hiro usually was.

Sighing, he grabbed the phone and gave the screen a courtesy glance. It read 'Destiny', no picture. There must have been someone Arthur knew at the hotel, a girl if the name was anything to go by. It would go a long way in explaining his nerves and rush at least.

Tapping the green call button, and after wincing at the obscene brightness Arthur kept his phone at, Hiro answered. "Hello?"

Static answered him. "Is anyone there? Hello?"

The static persisted. It roared and tolled, singing and ringing. It dug through his ear as a titter and struck gold in his brain as a cheer.

When he listened, truly listened, he started to realize that the static wasn't static. It was noise, busy and overlapping. A collage of noise, a mosaic of sound. The long 'eee' of a dial up connection, the din of computers booting up, the uproar of phones buzzing with notifications. A thousand times over these sounds and more repeated. It was there, behind it all, shaped by it all, he heard it.

A voice.

Indistinct, clipping, jarring, it spoke.

[...Connection established…] [...Download Initiated...][...Patching…][Download Complete…Launching Program]

[Logging in]

The phone case creaked in his hand and a shaky breath escaped his lips. "Must have been a robocall." Hiro croaked as the static petered off, his throat drier than it had been a moment before. "Weird sense of humor this Arthur guy has. Should have just blocked the number."

Hiro set the phone down and gripped his steering wheel, his heart hammering in his chest. But why? The laundry bags weren't that heavy.

He tried to take a few breaths. They shouldn't have been difficult but they were. He could hear the blood pulsing in his eyes, which could not be normal.

Another breath, extra long, seemed to do the trick. His head was still a bit wonky but his heart stopped trying to escape his chest.

He started to debate heading back into his apartment, popping a Tylenol, and sleeping whatever hit him off. Then the thought of missing out on a homecooked meal, and running out of underwear, made him reconsider. That and the image of his mother's disapproving glare for going back on his word.

Sighing, he shifted his car into reverse and eased on the gas to leave. When nothing happened he flushed, shifted back to park, and started the engine.

He drove away, rubbing at his temple and praying the headache didn't get worse. Though, knowing his mother, it probably would.