The city was as alive as ever—day or night. No wonder they called it "The City That Never Sleeps," though some folks looked like they hadn't eaten in days. A lot of them were hooked on some new stuff flooding the market lately. Don't know what it's called, don't care to know.
Thankfully, I'm not one of those half-dead junkies who find their only friends in their next fix. I'll stick to two or three cigarettes a day, thanks. Still, the smog was getting annoying. You almost had to use fog lights just to see anything. Disgusting. Hopefully those new ventilation systems they've been working on will be ready next month—and actually work.
At least I was almost there. His kiosk wasn't too far from my place.
The moment I stepped through the door, Rodrigo greeted me loudly: "Ooooh, look who it is—my friend's here! Spike, how's it going? Jobs treating you well? Need a pack? Same as always?"
"That too, but I'm really here to ask if you've got any work for me."
"Here's your pack—87 credits. As for work, hmm… let me think… Oh yeah, someone's looking for a bodyguard. Someone important, I think."
"Eighty-seven? Guess prices went up," I grumbled, handing him my pay card. "Bodyguard work, huh… for some bigshot or celeb? Not really my thing. Got anything else? And how'd you even land a client like that?"
"Nothing I can do—everything's getting more expensive," he said, processing the payment. "Where I got the job? That's my little secret. As for other work… hmm… Sorry, nothing but a delivery for my shop. Just need you to pick up some drinks and bring 'em back."
"Alright, I'll play delivery boy. What's the pay?"
"You've gotta grab three crates from Knight Street—big beverage warehouse there. I'll give you 70 credits."
"Rodrigo, just riding there and back is gonna cost me about that much in fuel. You can do better than that."
"I usually wouldn't, but since it's you… I'll make it 120 credits."
"That's better. I'll be back by tonight."
"Good. Just tell 'em I sent you—they'll give you the goods."
"Got it," I said, heading back out.
2.1
Alright then, I thought, heading to Knight Street—one of the oldest streets in the city. Not too much smog, no holograms shoving ads in your face, no billboards plastered on every wall. A pretty nice spot… If I ever settled down in this city, it'd probably be here. Then again, I'd rather be somewhere far away from it all.
When I arrived, it was pretty crowded. Lots of people shopping, but no problem. I told them what Rodrigo had sent me for, picked up the crates, tied them to my bike with a rope, and headed back. Nothing special—done it enough times before to know the routine.
2.2
Back at Rodrigo's, I caught him on the phone: "You know I'm doing my best, but no one wants that much risk. People say it's not worth it—no matter how much money—if it lands you in jail."
He'd already noticed me and was probably trying to spark my curiosity.
When he hung up, he said, "Back already? Faster than I expected, but no bonus if that's what you're thinking."
"Nah, it's fine. Here's your delivery."
Didn't get why he thought it was so quick—I'd been gone for hours. At least it had killed some time. He took the crates and transferred the promised 120 credits. Rodrigo was one of my oldest contacts. After what happened back then—the thing that made me who I am now—he was one of the first to give me work.
"What's on your mind?" I asked.
"Nothing, just thinking about the past… Anyway, curious about who I was talking to?"
"Oh, now you're trying to bait me?" I said with a smirk.
"That was a job I didn't tell you about—figured you'd turn it down. But hey, you never know, right? The client's not saying much, just that it's dangerous. But the pay's 70,000 credits."
Seventy thousand? That could last me a year or two with how I live. And I'd still live modestly. But… if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.
"Well? Interested?" he asked playfully.
"I'll think about it. Doesn't mean I'm saying yes."