The dawn of PodCities marks a revolution in the skeleton of urban living. Where once the landscape dotted with the trappings of excess—luxury vehicles, expansive homes, and a sprawl of commercialism—now stands a new vision of efficiency. The PodCity, a matrix of living units and storage, emerges as a clean slate, its orderly form a stark contrast to the chaotic charm of old. This new urban ecosystem, a high-tech beehive built where no one would have wanted to live, is meticulously crafted, blending the robustness of H-Tech with the advanced capabilities of A-Tech.

The familiar rhythm of city life—leisurely drives, backyard gatherings, the bustle of shops and diners—has faded into memory. In its place, the sleek monorail trains become the lifelines of these transformed cityscapes, their tracks the new arteries pumping vitality into the PodCity's heart. Silent and swift, these trains ferry resources across a grid devoid of roads, their automated efficiency a nod to the advanced A-Tech that now defines movement and trade.

Within the compact walls of each pod, life is distilled to its essence. Every pod, a minimalist bastion, meets the inhabitants' physical needs while their consciousness explores the limitless virtual landscapes. As the residents venture through digital worlds in search of work or wonder, A-Tech's silent precision maintains their living spaces, a stark contrast to the old H-Tech that demanded a human touch.

Yet even as A-Tech reigns supreme, H-Tech refuses to be forgotten. It persists, a stubborn reminder of a not-so-distant past when machines required a human heartbeat to function. Though overshadowed by the self-sufficient DXR guard units and their kin, the old guard of technology continues to anchor humanity to a more tactile heritage—a counterbalance to a life increasingly run by algorithms.

This new world is predictable, each corner a reflection of the one before, a testament to an existence streamlined for convenience and continuity. Yet, within the efficiency of PodCities, a question lingers—has the soul of the city been preserved, or has it been lost to the march of progress?

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The relentless Sahara sprawls beneath us. The landscape feels devoid of anything. Its an unthinking jester to the tension in my back and shoulders. I am not a violent man. I didn't get into fights as a kid.

I look over at Dave and out the blue say, "I'm a plumber for a reason."

He ignores me, which is honestly Probably for the best. I don't need stirring up.

The monorail glides where once dunes dominated; even in the Cheyv's AC the blazing Sun makes me sweat. I turn my fact into the air vent, another attempt at distracting my mine.

Dave, as always, is lost in his AR game, his visor projecting a fantasy world, which I'm convinced isn't as distracting as he lets on about it. But right now, I can't help but envy his detachment. All I can do is peer out into the passing city, searching for cloaked figures with sniper rifles. The last guys who had our jobs died in an explosion set off by insurgents.

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“Dave, man, aren’t you worried at all?” My fear betrays me as my complaint sounds more timid than bold.

Without shifting his gaze, Dave responds with a nonchalance that grates on my nerves. "Worrying doesn't fix pipes, Eli."

I glare back at him. "If looks could kill motherfucker," I think but don't say.

I fucking hate it when people tell me shit like that.

I huff, my fingers ceaselessly swiping on my jijaw for updates on insurgent activity. Riled up again, I demand Dave's attention, "Dave, how can you zone out at a time like this?", but I sound less demanding with an undercurrent of genuine concern in my voice.

Dave's voice is steady, his eyes not leaving his visor, "Eli, we're fine. The Bobs are on it. Plus, worrying never fixed anything."

Further, annoyed by his response but relieved by the distracting conversation, I press on. "God, I wish things were like they were when my dad did these jobs back in the States before the jobs dried up. He didn't need to ride to work in an armored van with armed guards."

Dave smirks, finally glancing my way. "You miss those days? The insurgents are a pain, but you are backed up, right?"

Before I can respond, the train comes to a halt, and the docking clamps release us with a thud that resonates with my heart.

Forgetting the conversation I am all eyes on my jijaw. Looking at the screen like I'm checking my lottery numbers, the map indicates we're only 135 meters from the job site. It's a negligible distance, yet today, it feels like a marathon.

Dave powers On the Chevy and engages the autopilot.

Though it feels like an eternity, we arrive at the site within a minute.

As Dave pulls us up, the doors of the Chevy hiss open, blasting us with a wave of oven-like heat. The Bobs, sleek and dark, are already moving into what I hope are the right positions.

Caught off guard by their swiftness, I blurt out, “Those fuckers move fast. Did they even wait for an order?”

Dave chuckles as he exits the vehicle. "They're just doing their job, like us."

The unease won't leave me as we make our way to the site, the glaring sun a relentless reminder that while most of PodCity's denizens luxuriate in virtual paradises, we grapple with the starkness of reality. As I look around at the habitation units I get into a mindless common rant, "They don't even know what real thirst feels like anymore." It maybe used to have meaning to me but right now its just mindless banter to distract me.

"Let's keep it that way," Dave replies, his focus unwavering. "Concentrate, Eli. We've got a job to do."

The rough terrain of the Sahara passes under us as we navigate towards our destination. Dave ignores the offline controls, his attention elsewhere in some game interface overlayed with his AR visor. The silence inside the vehicle was thick, mind unable to focus on anything other than the constant threat of insurrectionists. My eyes flickered to my jijaw, my fingers refreshing for the updates I wanted to see. "Dave, how the fuck can you be so relaxed," I said, my voice laced with fear. He never heard me.

In what felt like an eternity but was really only about 8 min, the train comes to a stop and the docking clamps holding our Exar release. My onscreen map shows its 135 meters to the compromised equipment site. The vastness of the desert-built city surrounds us, and my mind is unsettled by the realization of our vulnerability.

As I sit back my eyes fall on the Bobs again. Silent protectors filled with remarkable tech. "Maybe it’s not so bad, having the Bobs around," I whisper to myself. They may be more than just metal and wires. At least for me today they represented something more.