Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Traffic continues to flow around the accident without stopping. There’s not much to salvage. There’s nothing organic left at all. There’s just a lot of carbon and twisted metal. The only thing to survive is the yellow tail flag that got caught on a pole on the way to the accident, and still flags out with the company’s details…
Darcy
Delivery 2 Go
I am standing in a smoky office with a map of Eclipse City on the wall. There are dozens of little yellow lights rushing all over it. Occasionally, one blinks out. I assume that’s a delivery completed. I hope that’s a delivery being completed. Otherwise it’s something a little less productive.
Clint. That’s the name on the tag affixed to the big man behind the desk. Clint looks like the culmination of a long line of breeding for the middle-management gene.
His shirt is white with blue stripes and yellow stains underneath the armpits. I don’t know what his pants are like, because he hasn’t gotten up since I got here. He has the most impressive mustache I have ever seen, a big fluffy creature that seems to have a life of its own.
He’s chewing on the business end of a vaporizing pen, which I am almost certain is malfunctioning. It keeps fizzing and spitting, and every now and then it sets a bit of his mustache on fire. He puts it out between two fingers, not seeming to care. The mustache almost seems to regenerate instantly, or maybe it’s so bushy and thick that a little fire can’t stop it being fabulous.
“Can you ride?” the mustache asks.
“Of course,” I lie. I did a motorbike handling skills course three years ago for two sessions before the instructors said I ‘wasn’t responsible enough’ and was ‘going to kill myself and probably someone else.’
“Good. You get a bike, but you pay for it. Your first three hundred deliveries are paying it off, so you don’t get paid until those three hundred deliveries are completed. If, at any time, you leave the employ of Delivery 2 Go, the bike will be reclaimed.”
“You mean if I leave before it’s paid off, or…”
He looks at me with milky eyes. “If, at any time, you leave the employ of Delivery 2 Go, the bike will be reclaimed.”
“How do I eat, and live?”
“Vending machines,” he says, gesturing to a hall outside the office, which is lined with vending machines. I saw them on my way past. They’re old and sticky and the goods inside don’t look like they’ve been replenished in ages. “You get tokens for the vending machines.”
I already know that nobody is using tokens for the vending machines, or if they are, they’re not using them in the machines. My guess is the tokens are entirely worthless. Couriers for Delivery 2 Go are going to have to forage for themselves.
“And where am I supposed to sleep?”
“The bike has a tarp you can pull out to use as a tent,” he says.
“You’re kidding.”
“We’ve got dorm rooms, but you don’t spend much time in them. There’re deliveries running day and night. Got to keep up with those Nile bots. Remember, the difference is our ability to provide real human personal assistance. People choose a D2G driver for their deliveries because they want the human touch.”
Also, I happen to know Delivery 2 Go charges half what other companies do, plus Nile drones only deliver Nile packages. If you want to send something on your own account, something that’s not a brand new piece of Nile-branded merchandise, you have to use one of the many courier companies in Eclipse. This one happens to be one of the only ones that doesn’t actually ask to see your license, or take ID, two factors that really pushed me toward them.
“Alright,” I say. “I’m in.”
He nods, looks me up and down, then goes to a back room for a long moment. I learn then that his pants are brown. When he comes back, he’s holding a box, which he gives to me.
“Your bike’s out the back. Your first delivery is already loaded. Good luck, Darlene.”
“Darcy,” I say.
He doesn’t hear me. His eyes are already glued to the tablet in front of him again.
The bike is actually pretty impressive. It’s black and yellow, Delivery 2 Go colors. It’s shiny and it looks new, or at least newly painted. There’s a number on the side of it, #33.
Good number, I reckon. Feels lucky. Well, as lucky as anything can feel.
I don’t ever think I’ve felt pride before, not in something I’ve owned. That’s probably because I’ve never really owned anything before. Orphan cadets don’t get a lot of stuff to keep. I have clothes, most of them stolen, and some accessories and things, but this is different. This is a machine bigger than I am, transport that isn’t just going to take me places, but change my whole life.