Chapter 001: Package Delivery Gone Wrong
The border city was shrouded in a persistent drizzle.
A rainstorm had been raging for half a month, casting heavy, leaden clouds over the entire metropolis, making the sky appear as dark as if it were the end of the world. Mason glanced at the address on his watch and slowly pulled his car over to the side of the road.
"58 Cypress Street, Unit 3154."
"First time seeing someone receive a package at home," Mason muttered softly. He put on his raincoat, laboriously lifted a 50-centimeter square wooden crate, and headed inside according to the address displayed on his watch.
"Reincarnated into a sci-fi hellscape, and all I can manage is being a delivery guy. I'm probably the most pathetic dimensional traveler ever." Looking up at the towering skyscrapers around him, Mason thought with a self-deprecating laugh.
He'd been in this world for over two months. Although this reality was technologically far more advanced than his original home back in the States, his most immediate feeling was one of fear and unease.
Because he was completely off the grid!
Without an identity chip, finding a legitimate job was impossible, and even a normal life was out of reach. Food, entertainment, transportation—everything required access to his personal biometric data. Fortunately, Mason was cautious by nature; otherwise, he'd probably be a corpse in some stinking alley by now.
By the way, there's no such thing as a "delivery driver" in this world; those who do this job are collectively called "Runners."
The name sounds cool—like something out of Blade Runner—but in reality, it's the lowest rung of society, the most dangerous work. Surveillance, debt collection, theft, and even assassination are all within the scope of Runners' work. And what Mason is currently doing—transporting black market goods—is simply the least risky and least skill-intensive type.
Even so, he often has to face some ruthless criminals, because there are always some lucky ones who can score big when robbing Runners.
For example, certain mysterious designer drugs or prohibited plasma weapons that can fetch serious cash on the black market.
Mason adjusted his coat, revealing an alloy combat knife tucked into his waistband. The harsh reality had hardened Mason; just last week, he'd used this blade to puncture the internal organs of a would-be mugger.
Knock, knock, knock!
After confirming the address again, Mason reached out and knocked on the door. He didn't have the recipient's contact info. The data displayed on his watch only instructed him to deliver the item here to a Mr. Hansen.
Whoosh!
The steel door that Mason had knocked on jolted violently. After a flash of light, it transformed into a holographic screen, revealing a beautiful woman's face with a narrow pink band of light along her cheekbone.
"Yes? Who are you looking for?"
Mason was slightly taken aback; the woman's face belonged to a synthetic. While these androids were relatively common in this Detroit: Become Human-style reality, their price tags were beyond the reach of ordinary people. And judging by the model, this seemed to be the latest generation.
Don't ask Mason, a dimensional traveler who'd only been in this new world for two months, how he knew about synthetics. 3D advertisements for these things were plastered everywhere; even an idiot would probably know the latest models by heart.
This world was incredibly technologically advanced, and artificial intelligence had developed significantly—creating androids indistinguishable from humans was news from decades ago. Mason only glanced at the narrow LED band beside the woman's cheek before looking away.
"Is Mr. Hansen here? There's a package that requires his signature." Mason raised his wrist, projecting his watch's authentication code onto the screen. A message appeared on the display, containing details of the item he was delivering.
"Pool table."
A voice seemed to come from inside the apartment, and the android's beautiful face disappeared from the screen, only to reappear a few seconds later. Mason keenly sensed that she seemed somewhat flustered.
"Just leave the package by the door, I'll bring it in shortly," the female android said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her face slightly flushed.
Mason frowned. "I'm sorry, this requires Mr. Hansen's personal signature, or..." Mason imagined an intimate scene between Mr. Hansen and the android, "Mr. Hansen's biometric verification would also work."
The LED strip on the android's cheek was the biggest visual difference between them and ordinary humans. It could also reveal the android's emotional state. Judging from the color on the synthetic woman's cheek, she was probably doing something intimate with Mr. Hansen.
The android hesitated for a moment, then said, "Please wait a moment," and ended the video call.
Mason felt something was off, but he didn't think much of it; there were plenty of eccentric people in this world. The sky was terribly overcast, and it would be completely dark soon—he didn't intend to be out on the street after nightfall.
After all, in the border city, day and night were two completely different worlds.
"Click." The door opened, and the female android stood gracefully before Mason. She wore a bright white silk nightgown, revealing her delicate collarbone and smooth, pale legs, making Mason feel slightly dizzy.
Damn synthetic technology, Mason cursed under his breath, swallowing hard. It was said that these household-model female androids were even more alluring than real women; he couldn't help but recall a joke from his old life.
Realistic?
"This one must be realistic as hell, right?" Mason's mischievous side rose, and he thought with a wicked grin. He deftly took out a palm-sized transparent tablet and held it out.
"Please register Mr. Hansen's biometric data here," Mason said to the android, pointing to a blank area on the screen.
"Okay, please wait a moment." The android returned shortly after leaving, the tablet in her hand already showing as signed for. Mason wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt there was a trace of smudged crimson on the screen.
"This Mr. Hansen has some unusual tastes," Mason thought wickedly, looking at the blood-like mark on the display.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Let me help you push this into the apartment; this thing doesn't look big, but it's damn heavy."
He bent down, laboriously lifting the crate to push it through the doorway, but halfway through the movement, Mason suddenly froze, his face going blank.
Because of his bent-over posture, his body had leaned forward into the apartment. His gaze shifted downward, and Mason saw a pale arm hidden behind the leather sofa, and a spreading crimson pool!
"Holy shit, there's a body!?"
In a flash, Mason understood what had happened. He was about to straighten up and leave as if nothing had happened when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. A razor-sharp blade pierced through his jacket and went straight through his sternum!
The slender wrist holding the dagger belonged to the beautiful, seemingly harmless android! At that moment, the LED on the synthetic's cheek turned a bright red, like flowing blood. Mason then realized that the color wasn't a post-coital flush—it was clearly bloodthirsty murderous intent!
"Goddamn it... package delivery really is dangerous..." Mason's vision went black, and he completely lost consciousness.
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