1st 5 Pages April Workshop- Stoker

Name: K. Stoker

Genre: YA Science Fiction

Title: SAMURAI RACING

Pickup for you.

My headphones buzzed with a message from my boss, Eiiji Minami. The message sounded through the automated voice of my handheld electropaper, or EP, and the voice sounded tired, but a little snarky. Or maybe that was just my current mood.

The stale air of Kyoto in the summer sagged against my skin. The early morning sun peaked out from behind the mountains, but the closeness of the buildings meant most of the street remained draped in shadow. Above me, marking the sky like giant kanji, were trails from airships headed to Osaka and Tokyo. Only a few weeks until the Oban Race and already the hotels were filling as spectators flocked to the bigger cities for the qualifying races. 

I flipped the switch for my hovers. My hovercycle, an outdated Shuriken 500z, lifted off the ground. Like a traditional motorcycle, the hovercycle had two wheels, but only used for backup when the electric battery ran out or the hovers failed for some reason. 

Job location sent to your maps, dear.

I shuddered. Even with the automated voice I could tell the messages had switched from Eiiji to his son Kosuke. That meant this wasn’t going to be a simple errand. Kosuke Minami hovered in the gray space between legal and illegal, and I knew the longer I worked for him the closer I was to sliding forever into the illegal category.

Across the narrow street my elderly neighbors nodded to me as the water from their potted plants ran down the street. The moisture seeped into the drains beneath the street and would eventually end in the Kamogawa River. A simple cycle, repeating forever. 

I let out a long sigh. Another pickup, another job. A simple cycle, repeating forever. I pulled in the clutch and let the engine rumble below me, imagining that somehow my bike could feed me its energy. I let out the clutch and the bike rocketed forward.

Minutes later, I stopped my bike at a stoplight and pulled out my EP to check the map. A bright red dot hovered over a warehouse just a few blocks south of where I was, east of the Kamogawa River.  I stuffed the thin device back in my pocket and tapped my fingers on the handlebars of my bike. Pedestrians shuffled across the crosswalk as multi-seater transcycles, speedcycles and a few hovercycles waited for the light to change. 

The light turned green and my bike surged forward. 

I pulled in the clutch with my left hand and closed the throttle with my right, pressing down on the gearshift with my left foot to bump it from first into second. I angled the front hovers of the bike as I turned toward the river. Using my right foot, I pushed off from the curb, hopping my bike off the black pavement and onto the uneven stone of the concrete path that led to the river.  My 500z jolted forward, skipping over the bumpy ground as the hover propulsion tried to find flat ground. 

I swerved around a pole, almost scraping my knee on the concrete wall that jutted out from beneath an overgrown bush.  I pushed off with my other foot, just keeping my balance as I jerked the front tire around the pile of trash bags the collectors hadn’t grabbed yet. Somewhere behind me the large waste-transcycle rumbled through the narrow streets, robotic arms reaching out to grab the color-coded bags.

My speed increased as I steered the bike down hill. The sounds of traffic faded and the morning sun glinted on the lazy river. A literal breath of fresh air. I inhaled slowly, trying to avoid ingesting the morning gnats. A few black dragonflies floated on the slow breeze, darting back and forth across the path in front of my hovercycle. Hissing cicadas hung on trees, singing the song of summer. As I headed downriver, the force of gravity and the speed of my bike pushed me faster and faster. For a moment, with the wind in my face and the bike engine vibrating underneath me, I felt free.

A few minutes later I parked my bike outside of the warehouse. The street was empty, just a few solitary vending machines standing as sentinels along the quiet street. An occasional bus or transcycle rattled down the street and from a few blocks over I could hear the glorious roar of a speedcycle engine. 

I pulled my EP out of my pocket. It was a simple hand-sized piece of electropaper that could receive and transmit simple wireless messages. Cheap, prone to breaking, like everything else I owned. From it Kosuke’s instructions glared out at me.

Before 8AM. Box labeled 56JJHL, bring to downtown office. Cameras in warehouse disabled.

I clicked off my hovers, letting my bike sink back down to the ground, bouncing slightly on the back up tires. I walked my bike to a small alleyway across from the warehouse, checking the street again to make sure it was deserted. The hovercycle stayed hidden in the narrow space between buildings as I casually walked to the vending machine near the large roll up door of the warehouse.

Standing in front of the vending machine, I pretended to examine the selection of coffees and energy drinks. Instead, I scanned the exterior of the concrete warehouse, wondering how exactly I was supposed to get in. A quick check at the rolling door revealed that it was locked, no surprises there. I stationed myself back in front of the vending machine and sent Kosuke a text.

Doors locked.

I selected the cheapest item in the vending machine, a small bottle of water, and had finished half of it before Kosuke texted me back.

Enter from the second floor. Window left open.

“What?” I said, looking back at the three story concrete building.

There were no windows facing the street. Next to the warehouse on one side was a construction site and on the other a doctor’s clinic, currently closed. The clinic had outside stairs that led to its second floor, hopefully next to the warehouse’s elusive window. 

I walked straight up the stairs, as if I had an appointment with the non-existent doctor. Sure enough the warehouse had a small window peaking out at the stairwell. From the top of the stairs, I could feel eyes on me, watching me, and I knew I had been here too long. I stolen dozens of items for Kosuke, and though I never knew what they were, I knew my chances of getting caught increased everyday. 

But Kosuke had said there were no cameras. I reached the top of the stairs and leaned across the railing to the window of the warehouse. With a gentle push the window swung open. At the sound of footsteps, I glanced back at the street. Just a woman walking her tiny dog. The fluffy animal wore a pink suit that matched the woman’s, but neither dog nor human looked up to where I was. Within minutes they had flounced away, probably off for a walk by the river. 

Heart pounding, I crawled over the stair railing and into to the now open window. Inside the dark warehouse I could make out piles of boxes. I checked the instructions on my phone again and then got to work. Ten minutes later I’d found the box, which was small enough to tuck into my shirt.