“Wait, you know Kronos? Like, know them know them?”
“Of course,” he scoffs as if I offended him. “In my line of work, it pays to have friends in all places. Shit can get messy, quick.”
“Is that what this is for?” I ask nodding at the pipe gun shoved up against the metallic casing of an unused nano-injector in his middle compartment.
He curves a rough smile through his forest of a beard. “Something like that.”
Our shuttle clamors to stop midair at the barrier checkpoint. Gravity lock.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Griffin orders snappishly. There’s no telling what they’ll do if they catch us harboring Athan and Rome.
I can hear the humming of the orbital drones, hoovering in pattern around us, scanning the contents of the shuttle from outside. Remaining as still as possible, I search the bay for anything I can use as a weapon.
They're getting closer.
Their lasers pass over me and continue towards the rear.
A pleasant tone chimes from outside Griffin’s shuttle, accompanied by the green lights now glowing from the orbital drones.
The gravity lock releases. Into Olympia, we coast.
“How did we make it through?” I ask stumped, still trying to calm myself. “Thought for sure we were dead.”
“I do this typa shit every day, mate. It’s easy when ya bring a jammer,” says the outlaw pilot, tapping a metal box fastened under his dash. “For all they know, we’re Suits.”
Despite the periodic flicker of the forcefield, Olympia seems darker than usual, foreign even. Every street’s empty, every bar’s closed. You can smell the paranoia in the air.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, face smashed to the cleaner side of a dusty window as we soar over empty streets and air lanes.
“Anyone caught out after dark is executed on the spot now, city ordinance.”
“What? You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I shit ya not. We’ve got ‘bout an hour till,” he says, pausing for a second. “Ya know, I don’t see how you people do it.”
“Do what?”
“Live like this. Under the rule of another man, living in fear, day after fucking day. Does it not get exhausting, keeping up with all the countless things someone else doesn’t want you to do? Is it even possible to memorize them all?”
“Opposed to living in chaos? Disorder? Like some scavenger in the Outlands?” I reply.
“Nah, not like that. Chaos doesn’t always have to be pillage and plunder. Chaos without violence is freedom. Shit wouldn’t be much different in my world. Not at all perfect, but at least ya wouldn’t be a slave to a society that doesn’t give a fuck about ya.”
“Some see that as being selfish. We are a social species. Maybe Lethe isn’t right, but there needs to be something, don’t you think? What about everyone else? Strength in numbers? Our moral duty to those that can’t survive on their own? How do you think we made it this far?”
“Meh.. Fuck ‘em. Selfishness is the path to happiness, lad. You should be the motivation of all ya actions. If ya want to be a prick, be a prick. If ya want to help people out, then fuckin’ help ‘em out. Just leave me the fuck be and let me go about with my peaceful life.”
“Yeah, we would go extinct in like a year if everyone just did what they wanted,” I reply, cloaked with a sense of intellectual superiority. This guy is a bigger piece of shit than I am.
“If so, then I die happy, but I don’t think so. See, shit like murder and rape lowers ya chance of survival, which is pretty fucking high on almost anyone’s selfish lil’ want-list. If everyone just did what they wanted, for the most part, the world would be…eh, decent. Peace and harmony, love, all that shit. No rulers required. It’s only when some asshole believes he has this magically fucking authority, do we see shit like this.”
“I mean, I see where you’re coming from, but my guess is a world without rulers would just lead to a gang of violent thugs taking over, dictating our every move.”
“Well, ya certainly right about that, mate” he replies smugly, steering past a massive billboard of Archer Lethe’s face with his message in bold above. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING.
We land the shuttle on the vacant sky-plat outside my flat’s entryway and decide to go in for a much-needed drink with our remaining few minutes of daylight.
Athan passed out an hour ago. Completely exhausted. I carry him down to the door on my shoulders. The little shit is pretty heavy.
Rome still hasn’t said a word. He’s beginning to creep me the fuck out. I almost regret rescuing this guy. What if he turns on us? Tries to kill us in our sleep or something? At this point, I can’t trust anyone.
When I reach my door’s code-reader, I hear something. Music. Loud. Coming from my apartment.
“Who’s here?” I shout, swinging my front door open. Legs beginning to tighten, I cautiously step inside.
My eye zooms in, detects movement directly down the hall under the washroom door. Music’s blaring. Griffin pulls out his pipe gun from the inside of his jacket. Athan’s awake now, sensing something is wrong. Rome still has that same blank, thousand-yard stare as he stumbles behind us.
The washroom door opens.
Griffin aims.
“Whoa! What the fuck!? Don’t shoot!”
“Poth! What are you doing here?” I scream with a mixture of relief and excitement, forgetting that I told him he could crash on the couch.
“Fucking shit! You scared the fuck out of me, man. What the fuck? I’ve been waiting on you to show up, bro,” Poth says, silencing his horrible taste in music. “Umm.. What the fuck is that thing??” he asks pointing directly at Athan behind me. Olympia hasn’t seen a child in ages.
“This is Athan, and a huge, massively huge secret. Look at
