Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
As we entered the drainage pipe between the canal and the bay, over my shoulder I watched all the little indicator lights of Panopticon’s countless sensor clusters flickering to life. Secure in the knowledge that we’d gotten away with it, I took the opportunity to unload on Dave.
“Are you fucking retarded? I almost died! You could have at least warned me.” He cackled invisibly in the darkness of the drainage pipe. “You’d never have gone through with it if I did.” I tried to punch him but couldn’t see well enough, my fist sailed ineffectually through the cold, damp black which engulfed us.
His submarine was waiting for us outside the drainage pipe, on the bay side. Here, he handed the safe over to the sub crew and invited me to board. Still fuming, I obliged in the hopes that whatever they found inside would make that whole shit show worth it.
Boy did it ever. The jewelry and fat stacks of krona that spilled out exceeded even my most optimistic predictions. Very little is worth rocketing your way up out of a man’s home like Saint Nicholas after another successful ritualistic home invasion, before plunging into freezing sea water. This haul just about does it, though.
“Here’s your cut, just like I promised” Dave declared, dangling a single string of pearls which he then dropped into my hands. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. “Dave, you’d better be fucking with me, or you’re about to swallow the few teeth you’ve still got.”
He laughed nervously as the two divers positioned themselves, ready to lunge at me should he command it. “Well, hold off on that until we’re back at the ol’ HQ” he urged. “I’ve got a little something you might like.”
HQ turned out to be a drainage chamber which connected to the sewer system. It was spacious enough, with iron mesh walkways overhead, a dozen or so of Dave’s men peering down at us over the handrails as our boat came in to dock.
Of course. The surprise was only ever going to be more muscle. I should’ve knocked him out and jacked the contents of the safe back out on the bay. Too late now. I clenched my teeth and played it cool as I climbed out of the boat into Dave’s fetid new hideout.
Naturally there was about a hundred ebikes stacked up around the outer wall. He led me to the nearest row, where I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was my bike! “Fresh off the streets” he boasted. “Just brought it in this morning. I’m willing to cut you one hell of a deal on it.”
I blinked. Then looked at the bike. Then back at Dave. “This is my bike, Dave.” He laughed. “I know, right? It really suits you. You’ll look great on it.” I slowly shook my head, now glaring at him. “No, I mean this is the bike you gave me last time. In the barge, remember?”
He stared off into space. I curled my fingers into a fist and got ready to fight. A dozen men made little difference at this point, I wasn’t about to walk out of here with nothing but a string of pearls to show for all that.
“OH! Yes, right you are. I was testing you!” he lied through his rotting teeth. “You passed.” After further negotiation I wound up riding out of there with my bike, the pearls, four other necklaces and a stack of about 25,000 krona. I was at the end of my rope, about ready to kill him and it must’ve shown.
I’d also talked him into replacing the bike’s motor such that it now moves at a much quicker clip than before. The thrill diminished my lingering anger somewhat. I wonder if Dave and Dinesh are buddies? At this point it wouldn’t surprise me.
I spotted a few raised eyebrows as a I zipped past. Locals unaccustomed to seeing one of these things doing over 20 miles per hour. I stopped at a traffic light next to that bubble trike from the canal and once again gave it a long, hard stare. It really is the weirdest looking thing.
The petite Chinese man inside only stared back, as if to say “What do you mean, why am I driving a bubble trike? Why AREN’T you? Where’s YOUR bubble trike?” Which would be a fair question. It looked to be just about ideal for the local transport ecosystem.
This is what economic evolution decided was a good solution for this environment. Not substantially more powerful or complex than a typical ebike, but with just enough insulation from the often toxic atmosphere and harsh weather to make commuting tolerable during the winter, or during a gas storm.
There is nothing like vehicular machismo here. The American male’s romance with big, loud, fast automobiles is an absurdity and an alien notion in a country where the concept of “little cleverness” glorifies efficiency and shrewdness over wasteful chest thumping.
It gave me reason to reconsider what I really wanted out of my new life in China. Do I even really want a fancy apartment? Do I even want to be back on a motorcycle? Maybe this is an opportunity to downsize, instead of trying to transplant my old life into an environment it’s ill suited to.
But there would be no new life in China. The last day of Dad’s one week time limit came and went, at which point I knew he was in more trouble than he could get himself out of alone. I’d dreaded this the past few days, but held out hope that he’d be fine without me.
Because that apparently wasn’t the case, after fencing my cut of the haul and putting most of it into Seacoin so it wouldn’t raise any red flags in some government database that would connect it to the recent heist, I chartered a flight to South America.
The waste of money pained me, as I’d already paid the first month’s rent and now had to pay storage fees for the ebike as well. I was still thinking in poverty mode though, having not yet refactored my priorities to account for my recent steep increase in personal wealth.
The chartered flight seemed to be my only option. Every alternative I compared it to was either drastically more expensive or didn’t land usefully near to the coordinates Dad indicated. I could take an airliner for example but it would put me down at an airport nearly a thousand miles from where I needed to go.
The chartered flight was aboard a six seater VTOL, apparently the smallest craft capable of intercontinental flight. Otherwise I’d have just hailed another air taxi. I shudder to think of the fare however, given what I was charged last time for the brief flight from prison to Dad’s seastead, less than twenty miles offshore.
It was the best of a lot of bad options. I could afford it anyway, and it would save me from having to navigate a thousand miles of dense jungle. I claimed the last seat on the flight leaving the soonest, 9am the following day.
My last night in China for the indeterminate future. Felt weirdly cozy and nostalgic. I’d worked so hard just to put myself in this shitty little excuse for an apartment. It felt humble and lean, but homey. I had some small amount of pride in it.
In my dingy, frankensteinian mess of ebike too, though it bears little resemblance inside compared to when Dave first handed it over. Like me, in a constant state of change, improving its capabilities piecemeal as resources permit.
I pulled the blanket up to my neck, then bent my legs a little so my feet wouldn’t stick out the bottom. After switching the lights off and waiting for my neighbor to finish his usual noisy evening activities, I drifted off to sleep.
The aircraft looked like pure sex, perched on the helipad. No helicopter has landed on or taken off from it in nearly a century, so it’s a bit of a misnomer. One of those funny linguistic atavisms, like “gas pedal”, or “smoking jacket”.
The sleek, aerodynamic hull had four engines arranged like the props of a quadrotor. Ducted fans in this case, or so I thought until I peered up into one of them and saw nothing resembling blades. It was empty all the way through, nothing but a series of metal coils.
“You must be the last minute addition.” A muscular looking fellow in a grey peacoat and sunglasses gestured from the open hatch for me to board. Only once inside, my eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, did I realize the severity of my mistake.
The other four passengers were full metals. I immediately recognized them as the enforcers who raided Dad’s seastead. I backed away, at first meaning to run for it. But Peacoat McShades pulled a gun on me, and took hold of my arm.
Stay Tuned for Part 32!
😁😁... The last minute addition... A funny way to describe him
Like am fully on suspense, part 32 plss😁.... Things baut to get heated up 💪
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Sir, now what's going to happen!! The poor guy was already going to travel quietly. Well, at least Dave gave her more than he planned to give her. I had a feeling you'd come out empty-handed. Ah, True about vehicular machismo; I think this happens in most countries. Interesting part. Promise the next chapter!
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