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@amortentia:

//

a wet clink.

the last straddler slides a few bills onto the counter and wobbles lightly towards the door, shuffling through the dim neon light of the bar and into the drizzling rain. an old sign coughs and sputters fluorescent pink onto the foggy window. bar 474.

argo finishes wiping a glass by the e-reader till, walks over, and raises an eyebrow. cash? he squints his eyes, black rectangular pupils set in ochre orbs. bold of you.

//

argo closes the bar. he taps a small blue rectangle into the reader above the handle. the monocorp calling card glows blue, locking the door and logging the interaction as clocking out of his shift.

the rain continues. argo looks up at the drizzle and pulls the hood of his black windbreaker over his head, his long dark horns curving through the slits exposed. his bike rumbles to life, greeting argo as its owner's biometric signature enters its radius. argo locke. nubian ibex. 5'9". 162 lbs. blood type m. current mood: tired.

all motor vehicles in new angeles by default required owner registration with monocorp. all users agree for their data to be logged and streamed to monocorp. there was no way to opt out, not with monocorp. if you knew the right people, though, you could get devices to work locally without being connected to the network. luckily, argo was able to cash in on some favors with the fae sisters from hacking. he double taps the jailbroken calling card to disable location and biometric tracking on all devices.

the storm picks up. argo sighs.

lightning flashes to the east, revealing column after column of apartment complexes silhouetted in the sky. a moving shadow in the night rain, the suzuki-tron vxt7 rumbles into the storm, roaring to the tune of thunder.

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