Weary Traveler

Mitch and Nova’s jet-black, tank limousine rolled through the heart of the Pearl District. Rotech’s triangular emblem was painted in luminous white on the sides of the vehicle’s frame. Its matte-black windows were reinforced with bulletproof glass. Steel beams and thick grates covered the entire length of the shell like a suit of armor. And a small army of miniature, mounted turrets rotated atop the roof.

The streets around the Corpo Convention Center bustled with well-dressed corpos in their finest suits and dresses. Their hot breaths puffed out of their lungs like tiny clouds of smog, collided with Rosenfell’s icy winter air, and joined the clouds looming overhead.

Mitch drummed his fingers against his jittery legs. His quick feet tapped against the soft rug as he sifted through the notes crammed into his mind. Beads of cold sweat bubbled below his buzzcut hairline while his anxious eyeballs bounced around their sockets, scanning the shadowy passerby on the other side of the tinted windows. They pointed and conspired, tried to peek through the blackened layer to see what powerful figure waited inside.

His heart rumbled. Veins filled with a frozen sludge of thick blood that clung to his clogged arteries, blocking the pathways to his heavy limbs. Fear seized him. Either from his own inadequacy and preparation for his executive task all his own; or terror of the reality of his past sneaking up on him, merely hidden beneath a thin layer of cloth in the tailored shape of a corpo.

Something squeezed Mitch’s left hand, caressed it. He peered down as if still waking up from deep sleep, discovered Nova’s hand stroking his own. Her nails were painted pastel yellow to match her long yellow dress.

“I said we are here,” Nova said.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, squeezing Nova’s hand.

“You doing alright in there, Cowboy?”

“I’ve never even been trusted to do anything like this before,” Mitch said. “Because I would just fuck it up.”

“But not anymore,” Nova said, planting a soft kiss on Mitch’s lips. “If anyone is capable of succeeding, it’s you, Cowboy. And when I say you, I mean the gritty bum that you are on the inside. Not this corpo mask you put on to blend in with the rest of these inauthentic clones. Got it?”

“I know, I know,” Mitch said. His blank stare aimed down the tunnel of the empty limousine. He turned, smiled, looked deep into Nova’s lime green eyes. “I just needed to find a way to bring the queen to her ball.”

“I thank you for making my dream come true,” she said. “When you told me that I thought you were crazy, because you are crazy. But look how far you’ve come. That is the downtrodden but determined bum that lives at the center of your being. That is your authentic self. Don’t you ever lose sight and understanding of who you truly are. It is the only one that matters. The one on the inside, Mitch Henderson,” Nova said, patting Mitch’s chest over his heart.

“I’m glad I stumbled into that saloon, because I met the most beautiful girl in the entire Universe.”

“And I met the sweetest cowboy with the strongest heart wearing the armor of a bum. Who would have thought the bravest man was tramping through the streets of Rosenfell waiting for an opportunity to achieve greatness? Not many in this depressing world, or any world for that matter, would put themselves through the fire for another, as you have done for me.”

“In case something goes wrong while I’m demonstrating the tech,” Mitch said, “I want you to know that I would do it all again, for you.”

“You make me a promise right here and now. After the ball tonight, you, me, us… leave this meaningless, immoral corpo life behind and live out the rest of our days in a cottage in Laurelhurst.”

“Sounds like a perfect life to me, Nova Zion.”

Mitch leaned over, kissed Nova on the lips.

“Here, put this on,” Mitch said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out two, black lanyards with the word ROTECH written in fluorescent white. They each wrapped around a thin piece of clear fiberglass. Three-dimensional, holographic letters shined off of its surface, glimmered with each of their names at the center beneath the words: Executive Pass. He handed Nova the one with her name and slipped his over his head.

“Alright, Mitch Henderson, let’s go show these corpos what a bum and a nomad are capable of,” Nova said.

Mitch slid across the heated leather seats and pressed a button on the side panel, activated the suicide door. It fluttered into the air like a robotic wing, filled the cabin with bitter winter air.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, warm breath colliding with the icy chill that crawled across his skin, seeped into his bones, covered his flesh with goosebumps beneath his tailored suit. An obsidian jacket, traced with jagged beams of purple electricity, slim, matching slacks, authentic, black leather loafers, and a neon indigo tie that glimmered by a light of its own generation. Then he reached through the door, guided Nova onto the frozen stone path that led straight to the convention center’s entrance.

Rotech and CorpoMax banners draped down the sides of the enormous glass and stone structure like competing tribes fighting for territory. Corpo flags impaled the polluted sky from the top of the building, flapped in the frozen winds slicing across the fog. Floodlights in every color of the rainbow dotted the street, gleamed bright against the veil of darkness above. Neon lights flickered across every surrounding building like a galactic nebula had dropped from the heavens and fallen into the black hole of Rosenfell.

Mitch marched forward, Nova squeezing tight around his right arm. Their chests were held high, backs straight, chins raised, radiating an aura of calm, confidence. Their focused eyes and stoic faces aimed at the entrance, ignoring the mob of paparazzi swarming around them like a pack of feral beasts, drawing the attention of every self-righteous, conceited corpo around them.

“Mr. Henderson! Over here!” the paparazzi shouted, snapping each photo with a bright flash, stealing a piece of his soul.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

“Smile for me!”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Mitch blinked, blinked, looked away, clamped his eyelids. Each bulb flashed images at the center of his mind.

Memories… premonitions… ghosts of the past…

“Anything you can give us about Rotech’s presentation, Mr. Henderson?” a scraggly creature asked, hustling alongside the couple.

Mitch ignored him, looked ahead. Sparkling dots of light danced across his blurred vision, seized his brain. Their path to the front doors seemed to twist, warp with each blinking bulb. He could feel Nova’s arm wrap tighter around his as she pulled him through the growing mob. His shoes and her heels clicked faster, faster until they were both running for the entrance.

Their lanyards chimed and flashed green as they burst through the front doors. The frantic horde of paparazzi stopped at the door like an invisible forcefield had been constructed around the perimeter of the circular building. They turned back to the street, soul-sucking cameras aimed, sniffing out other victims to prey upon.

“Damn vampires,” Mitch said, flexing his jaw and blinking away the beaming bulbs of lingering light still imprinted onto his eyeballs. He reached into his left pant pocket and pulled out a platinum, Rotech pocket watch displayed with a digital screen, studied its face. “We’ve got some time before the presentation,” he said, sliding the watch back into his pocket. “How about we go check out a few of the booths?”

“Lead the way, Cowboy,” Nova said, curling her fingers around Mitch’s.

They trudged ahead, joined the stream of traffic flowing through the main lobby, and squeezed through one of the doors leading onto the chaotic convention floor. A buzzing, inaudible chatter filled the air with an electric hum.

Booths lined every inch of the outer perimeter, crammed with vendors and startups looking to rise up the corpo ladder. Various demonstration stations spotted the center of the floor, each with their own crowd of corpos trying outdated tech, firing old weaponry, or testing out the newest prototypes yet to hit the consumer market.

Mitch hitched up onto the tips of his toes, scanned the room over the tens of thousands of heads. Only one, lonely CorpoMax booth was set up near the presentation stage at the front of the convention room. A couple Crawlers were standing behind a table, showcasing a few measly pieces of tech to a sparse crowd.

“CorpoMax is back there,” Mitch said.

Nova followed Mitch’s gaze.

“Doesn’t look like much,” she said.

“They’re probably saving it for the presentation.”

“Let’s see what this little one is about,” Nova said, pulling Mitch towards the back of a small crowd gathering at a booth along the left wall.

A Rotech salesman wearing a matte, coal-black suit underneath a white lab coat pinched a small, glowing, green nugget between his fingers. He stood in front of a phosphorescent, green sign scrawled with the words: Bio-Battery. The man turned at the waist so that the corpos standing in the arch around him could examine the tech closer.

“What’s it supposed to do?” a corpo in a fiery, orange tech-suit asked. His voice dragged on in a monotone, as if he were already bored with the presenter’s display and asked the question out of mere procedure.

“The Bio-Battery, ladies and gents,” the salesman said, “is ten-thousand cups of coffee packaged into one single battery. Your top speed will rapidly increase. Your reaction time will shrink to such low levels that it will seem like you are reading the future. I’m talking agility, precision, focus, strength, libido, longevity…” he said, counting off on his fingers, “all of these traits and more will greatly evolve. The overall power output of your body will be upgraded by many orders of magnitude. Your stamina will-”

“We’ve had those for decades!” someone shouted.

The salesman whipped his head left, right, searched for the face of his detractor.

“And you would be correct, sir. But Rotech’s Bio-Battery is a state-of-the-art model using only the finest materials so that it does not corrode while it is plugged into your body,” the salesman said.

A few corpos near the front turned and shuffled away, dispersed back into the madness of the crowd.

“Over the past several years,” the salesman said, “biologists and physiologists at Rotech have managed to minimize the size of the Bio-Battery and increase its capacity, allowing users to operate at a high level without sleep, without having to ingest food or liquid, and without having to consume copious amounts of bonzo stimulants. That’s right, folks, the Bio-Battery will increase productivity by finally eliminating the mundane aspects of human existence.”

“By eliminating what it means to be human?” Nova asked from the back.

Dozens of heads turned around slowly, leered at Nova. Mitch glanced at her but her eyes were aimed at the salesman.

“Looks like we got a wisenheimer in the midst. What’s your name, darling?” the salesman asked, peering through the parting crowd as if they were repelled by some aggressive stench.

“Nova,” she said. “And what is your name, darling?” she asked, mimicking his gimmicky tone.

The salesman chuckled.

“Why, I’m Frankensworth. Everyone knows that! Now… Miss Nova, please humor me. Wouldn’t you agree that a human being’s biological form is something that is in the process of evolution?”

“Biological evolution, yes. But what is natural about a synthetic battery shoved into our bodies? One that eliminates the few remaining activities that separate us from autonomous robots?”

“Well, call it a metamorphosis, then,” Frankensworth said, brushing aside Nova’s point. “Now, where was I? Ah yes, the-”

“A metamorphosis deals with a transformation of form. Are we to become Crawlers on this side of the earth?”

Frankensworth scoffed, closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head.

“You really should learn some manners, you ignorant child. Don’t you know its not polite to question authority?” Frankensworth said, peering back across the gap. “Maybe your husband should-”

Frankensworth silenced himself. It was like he had forgotten how to speak altogether. His eyelids peeled open, pupils burst until they had almost consumed his red irises. His pale cheeks turned five shades redder as blood flowed into his skull.

“I… I… umm… fuck, I’m dead,” Frankensworth muttered under his breath. “Mr. Henderson, sir, I… please accept my most sincere apology, sir.”

“After all that, you are apologizing to me?” Mitch said, shaking his head. “No. You owe an apology to, oh… what did you call her?”

“Nova, ma’am, please accept my most heartfelt apology for foolishly dismissing your claim. I was out of line and owe you a debt of gratitude for calling out a major flaw.”

“Do not trouble yourself too much, Frankensworth,” Nova said. “Your apology is more than enough.”

“Mr. Henderson, sir, I don’t have much, but please accept this Bio-Battery as a small token of my appreciation for your work at Rotech.”

“It is not necessary to bribe me, Frankensworth,” Mitch said.

“Toss it here,” Nova said, cupping her hands.

Frankensworth rolled the Bio-Battery into the center of his palm, underhanded it. The neon nugget twisted through the air like a synthetic firefly, dropped into Nova’s hands.

“Thanks,” she said, turning and marching away, Mitch following in her footsteps.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Henderson!” Frankensworth shouted one last time. “Looking forward to your presentation, sir!”

Mitch hurried next to Nova’s left as they marched towards the middle of the convention center.

“I didn’t expect you to accept that after you made those points,” Mitch said.

“I was just giving him a hard time. I wouldn’t want to hawk this tech to all of these mindless corpos. And besides,” Nova said, slipping the Bio-Battery into Mitch’s inner jacket pocket, “I didn’t take it for me.”

Nova adjusted Mitch’s lapel, tapped the bulge where the Bio-Battery settled.

“Just in case I’m ever a damsel in distress and I need my Cowboy to come and rescue me,” she said, placing the back of her forearm against her forehead, feigning to faint.

“We’ve got time for one more,” he said, looking left and right, peering over the heads of the busy crowd.

Nova groaned.

“We’ll just have to find…” Mitch said, turning around in a circle, searching the booths along the wall and the weapons stations scattered across the center of the convention floor, “there we go.” He halted his spin, pointed towards a lonely station towards the front of the room, near the presentation stage.