Was it all a dream? It’s the first thing I can think of as I awake. I open the credentials on my wrist and see the tickets still there in my inventory. I let out a sigh of relief. My head turns to one side and I can see the Droid sitting there, staring. It startles the shit out of me.

“Sheesh, you almost made me short-circuit there for a second,” I say, placing my hand over my heart to make sure it’s still beating. I had worked on him last night until the sun rose, so I couldn’t have been out that long. “Are you fully operational?” I ask him. I can’t exactly remember how far I got.

He lifts his hand and tilts it side to side as if to say ‘so-so.’ That’s right, his voice box is crushed. I need to get it replaced. Looks like he can see me, but from the distance he’s staring, I think he may need to have that repaired as well.

“What kind of piece of shit did you drag up in here, boy?” I couldn’t see him until I turned, but Frank had been sitting at a workbench in the back of the shop for who knows how long. Again, startling the shit out of me.

“What’s up with you two?” I huffed, getting to my feet.

“I’m not the one passed out at work doing Allspirits know what, with some junker Droid.” Frank huffs back.

“I always sleep here,” I say, throwing my hands up and shrugging.

“My shop ain’t no motel, boy.”

“You wouldn’t turn me towards a dusty road, would ya’ Frank?

“The hell I wouldn’t.” He grumbles before lurching towards the Droid to get a better look.

“Some punks were beating the shit out of it for fun. I took it off their hands.” I smile slightly.

“Wasn’t worth the hassle. The hell you need a MetiCity Droid for? This thing might as well be older than me. As a matter of fact…” he says, leaning close to the Droid. The Droid responds by leaning back slightly in an uncomfortable effort. “This thing’s a damn prototype boy. An original. Might be able to get some money for it. Get you a ticket to MetiCity, where you should be. ‘Bout time you started taking care of yourself.” He says, turning back to face me.

“I do take care of myself.”

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you take care of the customer that’s been waiting for the last ten minutes.”

“What? Why didn’t you help them?” I say, heading towards the front of the shop.

“If I have to deal with another scavrat looking to sell his friend’s fridge for some Greesha, I’m going to sell this place and retire off land.” Frank hollers as I get out of earshot.

Frank is the only person I’ve known almost as long as Migo. I used to come through his shop when I was young, selling things I had dug out and repaired. When I was good enough, I started buying his crap gear, upgrading it, and selling it back to him for a profit. By then, I was old enough to work for him. He's a centenarian now, and since it's become increasingly challenging to access safe life-extension treatments out here, he seems resigned to let nature take its course. He wasn't always so willing to let go, though. About forty years ago, when Frank was in his forties, he joined a rebel force that tried to topple Zelius’ regime. He often brags about the time he almost killed Zelius with a rocket launcher. He says that MetiCorp turned a blind eye to those still outside who were suffering on the deteriorating planet. The rebellion lasted through much of the 2080s until they were forced to start worrying more about where to get food and clean water. They decided they would rather roast in the high sun than sign the contract. Since then, he’s been slompin’ out here in the Outskirtz with the rest of us. That’s what happens when you're on the losing side of the war.

As I get to the front, I can tell immediately it’s a MetiCitian. He even looks familiar. I just can’t place it.

“Sorry about the wait. What’s going on?” I ask him. He continues looking around the shop. “You know what you're looking for?”

“Actually, I believe I’m looking for, well, you,” he says, looking me over.

“Me?” I say. I’ve built a bit of a reputation around here for being able to fix broken tech. Only a few know I can mod MetiCorp tech; it’s not exactly something I’ve been advertising. Modding Company tech may be something I can do, but not for some rando off the street. Especially one who looks like he’s never seen sand in his life…

“Do all Outskirt folk have scars like you and work in repair shops?” he asks, pointing at my face. I brush my hand against the side of my head where my scar is. Sometimes I forget about them. They streak from just past my eye to the side of my head. No idea where I got them from. The only gift my real parents left me. I’ll be sure to ask them how I got the scars when they come back and tell me I’ve been a prince this entire time.

“Gotta love MetiCity folk, coming through the Outskirtz to stop and stare at us like zoo animals,” I say.

“No, no, no. I meant no offense. I was told to look for a boy with a scar here who may be able to help repair my vehicle.”

“From who?”

“She was stranded and you helped her get back airborne in a flash. She was told by someone when looking for help you could fix anything. That’s why she came to you.”

“The old lady with the clueless security guard?” I say. It’s got to be her. I was stunned to see an elder from MetiCity out this far, but it turns out she was just passing through and got stranded outside the city. It was an easy fix, but something her security was completely useless to help her with.

“That old lady is my mother, but yes. Her security has a high turnover rate. I’m not sure who is more insufferable. Now, if that wasn’t enough, a friend of mine said he bumped into a kid from the Outskirtz last night. The kid, who also had a scar like yours, repaired his Paladin armor in seconds.”

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“Koujin? The guy in the Paladin armor?” I ask, thinking back to last night.

“So it is you. One and the same. And is it true? What they said.”

“Only one way to find out. What ‘chu got? Although I don’t usually work on Company tech.” I backtrack.

“Well, it’s not really Company tech. More of a new prototype.” I am expecting something similar to the one Migo got as a loaner. Not even close. We step out into the loading dock and he shows off this gorgeous one-seater. Brand new tech. Something a professional O-Racer would use.

“I remember where I know you from now. Zander. O-Race Cup runner-up two years in a row.” I recall.

“Three years in a row, but who’s counting? Can you fix it?”

I lean down, admiring the craftsmanship. You don’t see tech like this in the Outskirtz. Hell, you don’t see tech like this, period. I am basically drooling. “What’s wrong with it? It looks like you could win your fourth cup with it.”

“Start it up,” he says, passing his credentials over the monitor.

“Really?” I’m perplexed. To bring this kind of tech to the Outskirtz, his security must be sweating outside. To let someone he doesn’t know operate it? Is he insane or just dumb? I don’t give him time to answer. I start it up and hop in.

Man, this thing is eerily quiet. Runs smooth and feels fast. Part of me wants to know how fast. After a moment, though, my senses kick in. I hop out. I press my hand against the side and slowly move it towards the back of the jet.

It’s like a magnet, sometimes. I can feel the pain calling out to me. Something’s wrong and this O-Racer jet is begging me to find it. I slowly glide my hand over the frame, and about halfway down, there it is. The heating coil is burnt. My understanding is they use them to heat specific surfaces so the jet can modify airflow patterns, reduce drag, or enhance lift. These things can withstand extremely high temperatures. Even when maneuvering at all those g-forces, he shouldn’t get this kind of damage. Damage like this could be life-threatening, depending on the situation. How the fuck did his overpaid bubble baby crew miss this?

“How the hell does someone overheat a heating coil?” I ask.

“That was quick,” Zander says with a huge smile. “It’s something that most techs wouldn’t even check for, and you went right to it.” he chuckled.

“I don’t even know if we have any heating coils. It’s not something we often have to replace, but I can check.” I say, turning to go back into the shop.

“It’s fine. I brought one with me.”

“You already know the issue? Then why-”

“A test. I’ve been looking for a different set of eyes for my pit crew this year. I’ve been having random issues like this and need someone capable. Someone…unconventional. Interested?”

“Nah. I’ve already got a job. Besides-”

“HE’LL DO IT!” Frank screams out of nowhere.

“What? But what about the shop?” I yell back.

“I’m going to sell this dump, remember? I was planning on cutting your shifts anyway.” He says, walking up and slapping my back harder than necessary.

“Well, if your Grandfather says it’s ok and you’re interested, you’ll have to fill out these forms.” He air drops them over to me on my credentials. That cut Frank's smile short. “You’ll need to be at the MetiCity-6 stadium tomorrow morning at eight AM. We can give you a test run and see if you fit.” He heads to the door to tell his team to load the jet into the cargo carrier they had strapped to one of their transports. He turns back to me in the doorway. “Oh. What’s your name, kid?”

“Ren. Ren Unkno.”

“Unkno Eh? Poor kid.” Zander sighs.

“Yeah, he is! That’s why you’re gonna give him a travel pass for this fancy MetiCity job of yours.”

“Frank, don’t be rude,” I say, trying not to ask for too much.

“What? Migo ain’t gonna just gift you a travel pass every day.” Frank argues.

“It’s no problem. Open a com-link.” Zander says, fidgeting with his credentials. I received the message.

“A week-long travel pass?” I exclaim. I didn’t even know that was possible. It’s not cheap to get travel passes, and he just sent me seven.

“Do you think you’ll only need one? You must have more confidence in yourself, Ren.”

“He’s right,” Frank says, pushing at my shoulder.

“You have my information if you have any questions. Otherwise, I will see you in the morning.” Zander says, waving before passing through the doorway and out of sight.

I look over at Frank in shock.

“What? It’s about time!” Frank huffs before fading into the backroom. “And clean that damn Droid up!” he yells loud enough for me to hear.

I have to tell Migo. He’s not going to believe it. I open a com-link and invite him. I get no response, so I go to check if he’s streaming. He likes to stream himself playing games from time to time, but it’s usually just a bunch of cursing and throwing his game stick. He’s not very good. I tune in just in time to see him waiting to respawn. I type in his chat, ‘CHECK YOUR PHONE DOME HEAD.’ He pauses the stream and finally accepts my com-link invite.

“Mushi mushi Ren, are you enjoying the stream? I almost had em’!” Migo groans.

“Hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just wondering, have you heard of Zander Thorne?” I know he has. He’s been into O-Racing since we were in ranking. Everyone in MetiCity-6 was proud to have the number 2 O-Racer in the world, and Migo is no different.

“Good one. Of course I have, have you? I hope you didn’t waste your social credit on tickets to the opening cup next week because I’ve already got them. Of course.” he cockily claims. I want to one-up him for once.

“Oh yeah? We’ll then maybe you’ll see me at the cup. I might just be working. Pit Crew. For Zander,” I say, chopping the sentence up to build suspense.

“You’ll be doing WHAT? FOR WHO?”

“I thought you said you knew who he was?” I laugh.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? Wait…is this some kind of prank? I could have got it on stream. For the clout, man! For the clout!” he groans.

“No prank.”

“WELL?”

“He heard from his friend Koujin that I could repair anything. So he came out and tested my knowledge on some glacious new jet and I passed. I’ve got to be there early tomorrow.”

“Wait…Koujin…THE Koujin?” He stutters.

“Oh, you’ve heard of him?”

“Of course I’ve heard of him! Tonight’s his first title defense! How does he know YOU?” his bewildered excitement was palpable.

“After I left the bar last night, I bumped into him and did a quick repair on his Paladin armor.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

“Allspirits man, I’m stunned! Actually, no, I’m not. Everyone knows you’re the best mechanic in the Outskirtz. You deserve this. We need to celebrate! I’ll come get you and we can hit a scrapyard or something. Or maybe a brothel?” he says, giggling to himself. “Then back to my place and we can watch the fight?”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go to the fight?”

“You never want to go to the fights. I mean, maybe I can swing some last-minute tickets, but it’s a title fight. It’s probably sold out.”

“Well, I didn’t want to go because it’s a luxury I usually can’t afford.”

“Usually?”

“Remember when I said I repaired Koujin’s Biosuit?”

“Yeah..?”

“Well, he gave me two free tickets. And I don’t think Frank is up for it.”

“I never said that!” I could hear Frank call from the back. He’s always listening.

“Think fast, Migo.”

“Be there in two hours,” Migo says, closing the com-link. I can’t help but smile. It’s not every day I get to be the one to treat Migo.

It’s a three-hour trip by public transit, but since he’s got his FlyBike fixed, he can make it in two. From just outside the shop, I can see the outline of the MetiCity-6 dome peeking out over the horizon. I finish cleaning the Droid just before Migo arrives. His Flybike isn’t really meant for two people, like a cruiser, but I fit snugly in the back where one would keep cargo. I stun him again when I tell him I don’t need a travel pass.

“Wish you would have told me that before I bought one!” he groans.

“Why not invite Calli? I’m sure she’d love to see you.” I say smirking.

“I’m exclusive now, remember?”

“Oh right, to Tovah?” I ask.

“No. Exclusively MetiCity girls only.” He grins whilst revving the engine.