The Rider (Complete)

Chapter Two

Laying on the ground, the rider took a few seconds to recuperate. Oxy-freeloaders, as they were known, were frowned upon and security was quick to escort him off the premises where he would surely die.

"Okay, pal, let's go. Get up. You have to leave," one of guards said.

"I have... a package," the rider muttered.

"What's that?"

"Delivery," the rider said. "I have a delivery."

"You have a delivery? For who?"

"The boss," the rider said, flashing a digital badge with his nearly limp arm.

The guards' attitudes completely changed as they helped the rider to his feet. "Our sincerest apologies, sir. Can we get you anything to eat or drink?"

"I just want to deliver my package and go."

"Sure thing. Right this way, sir."

As the synthetic oxygen entered the rider's bloodstream, it gave him a second wind. Within minutes, he felt much better.

Two security guards escorted the rider down a long corridor toward a private elevator in which they all entered and rode to the top floor. When the doors opened, the rider looked at the guards as he walked passed them.

"Kade Casey, you're late," Mr. Saigon said. "Where the hell have you been?"

"It's funny you mention hell," Kade said. "Let's just say I experienced a minor setback, but... I'm here... with your package, as usual."

Kade stepped forward and handed over a small package with undisclosed contents. Mr. Saigon accepted the package and looked at the rider's scuffed-up helmet and dented canister, but didn't ask any further questions. All he cared about was his package.

The rider had clients all over the city, but Mr. Saigon was known to pay the best. Kade never knew what he was transporting and never cared, as long as he received payment.

Upon handing over the package, Mr. Saigon gave the rider payment — a single canister of pure liquid oxygen, enough to last an entire month if rationed correctly.

"Thanks," Kade said, swapping out the damaged canister for the new one and placing his helmet back on his head. Kade kept his interaction to a minimum. He turned away and walked toward the guards who were still waiting by the elevator.

Kade left Mr. Saigon's office and rode through town. He pulled into the underground parking garage in his building, parked his bike, and made his way to the ground floor. There was a 24 hour sushi spot on the same block that he ate at regularly when he would come home late and didn't want to cook.

On his way to the restaurant, various digital stats displayed on the visor of his helmet — an advertisement for a local watering hole, a biometric breakdown of some pedestrians walking by, the time, weather forecast, temperature, and oxygen levels — below 5%. The streets were empty except for the broken down cars and piles of garbage that littered the sides of the streets. The only good thing about living in a dump was there were no rodents, even they could not survive with such low levels of oxygen.

In the distance was Megalopolis, a towering city of modern architecture and bright lights — one of only a handful of cities remaining in the world. Population — less than a million.

Amid the sleazy remnants of a once prosperous neighbourhood was an equally rundown hole in the wall that stood for a sushi restaurant. It should be illegal to call what they served as sushi, but it was sustenance nevertheless. When Kade entered the late-night establishment, a notification was sent to him, visible on his visor. Kade reached out and touched the augmented reality app, which expanded into a large menu.