Beep. Beep. Beep. Owen’s scratchpad alarm blared in the confines of his tube. He hit the off switch, bright light from its screen temporarily blinding him. He threw off his damp blanket and stretched out. The temperature control went out sometime after Owen passed out and he was drenched in sweat. Just another wonderful feature of tube life.

  Beep. A message from Luther appeared on the pad screen. It wasn’t a bad dream caused by a malfunctioning piece of pre-collapse tech. Last night was real. He hoped it was a nightmare brought about by a bad burrito. Owen let his head rest against the tube’s cool plastic interior as he thought about his impending imprisonment. After a few minutes of self pity he dared to read Luther’s message.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we’re done,” Luther’s message said. “I’ll send your final paycheck as promised on the day promised. Not a second sooner. Get your shit together. Anyway, I know a guy that’s been looking for some tech help if you’re interested in staying out of prison. His name is Bryan Tucker. He works down at the manufacturing plant near the old movie studio. Fuck you for making me fire you, and good luck.”

  Owen had his goal and six days left to pay his fine. He had a quick breakfast of PEPPERONI PIZZA cooked in his cube’s micro oven. The pizza was thin, with a single pepperoni on each precut slice and hit with a squirt of flavor spray to make it palatable. Though he had somewhere to be, he couldn't leave his hatch with the ever present Sensei Dan Hardknuckle standing just outside. The imaginary clock ticked away regardless of his fear and eventually he mustered up the courage to gather his repair tools and leave his tube.

  The cacophony of early morning crowds previously muffled by his tube deafened him in an instant. Countless citizens shuffled across the tower floor, and the open air design of the tower let sunlight stream through the center straight to the first floor. Owen squinted at the light. He hadn’t been up so early since he left the care facility.

  “Rise and shine, my disciple,” Sensei Dan said. He patted Owen on the back and made his skin crawl. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life. We’ll start you off with some stretches to get those muscles nice and loose. I bet you’re bound up tight after sitting at a desk for years.”

  “Get away from me.” Paying off his fines topped Owen’s to-do list. Second was getting rid of the sensei which he couldn’t do until he could afford it. “I’m not doing what you want!” Owen rushed for the elevator, pressing his way into the morning work crowd. Sensei Dan shook his head in disapproval.

  The manufacturing plant wasn’t far. He couldn’t see it through the towers, but he could smell it. A burning plastic stench clung to the inside of his nose. Within the plant hundreds of weary citizens worked in tandem with machines to make products for countless companies across the city. Owen tried to get a job there when he left the care facility, but the potential employment line was two hundred deep and he didn’t have a lick of experience. He really lucked out with Luther and Sensei Dan burned that bridge in less than ten minutes.

  Owen searched for Bryan Tucker within the plant. There weren’t any no trespassing signs to stop him or guards to bar his way, so he figured he wouldn’t get into any trouble. Thoughts of imprisonment plagued him. What would he do if someone else already got the job? He needed credits fast and Luther was right, the harvesters might not stop at his kidneys. He needed a better way to make those elusive credits. It was fifty-fifty on whether he got a fuck you or something useful from the workers when he asked. After an hour a helpful employee pointed at a forklift operator.

  “Are you Bryan Tucker?” Owen asked as he jogged beside the forklift. “I heard you had a job.”

  “Tuck,” the operator said. “Call me Tuck.” He shut the forklift down and hopped out. He was a little shorter than Owen, but his thoroughly tattooed arms were thick with muscle. “You Luther’s boy? Taller than I expected.” He scratched his mustache and played with his goatee. “Those are some thick rings under your eyes. You ever sleep?”

  “Sometimes.” Owen let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m Owen. Owen Lamb.” They shook hands. “Luther said you had a job.”

  “Yeah, I do.” He looked Owen up and down, his face unmoving. “But I don’t think you’re right for it. You any good under pressure?”

  “I think so,” Owen said meekly. Tuck didn’t look impressed. He cracked his knuckles and squinted as he studied Owen. He might’ve been a couple inches shorter than Owen but his presence towered as much as Dan’s.

  “Look at him,” Sensei Dan said. He moved around Tuck, nodding his head in approval. “Those finely tuned muscles, that steely look in his eye. Looks Chinese, but I sense some Japanese heritage in there. He’s got samurai blood running through those veins for sure. This is a born warrior. Bet he’s former military. Ask him where he served. Go ahead. Ask him.” Owen wanted to roll his eyes at Dan’s suggestion, but he wouldn’t find another job in such a short time. Tuck was his best hope for any credits.

  “Where’d you serve?” Owen asked. Tuck smirked.

  “The no-man’s land between us and City Six mostly.” Tuck cracked his neck. “City Seven Armor and Recon. You military?”

  “No,” Owen admitted. “But I’m good with whatever you need done. If it’s got a battery attached I can repair it. Luther can back that up if you throw him a message.”

  “Alright.” Tuck chuckled. He cracked his neck. “Walk with me.” Tuck led the way to a small shaded area near a shipping container. “Get back to work you lazy pieces of shit!” Tuck shouted at a trio of men smoking and playing cards on their scratchpads. “Sit down,” he told Owen when the men fled.

  “Is this an interview?” Owen had dozens of them after leaving the care facility. None of them were in such unprofessional conditions.

  “Sure it is.” Tuck sat across from him. “Luther said you were good with small appliances. Real good. That true?”

  “Yeah. Been doing it for a few years.”

  “Lot of people do a lot of things for a long time and are dog shit at it. I’ve been playing guitar since I was thirteen and I still sound like shit. Are you good at it?”

  “I’m good at it.”

  “Can you be perfect? Can you be fast? Can you be fast and perfect?” Tuck asked. He tapped a cigarette out of its pack and lit it while he waited for Owen’s answer. “I don’t have all day.”

  “I can be,” Owen said. Most repairs were second nature. “I’ve got steady hands and you can ask Luther how many screens I’ve broken since I’ve worked for him. I’m real good.”

  “Luther said you were.” Tuck blew a stream of stinky smoke. “Alright. I’ll give you a shot. Just one though. Hang out here for a little while. When I get off I’ll take you over to the job site. Sound good?”

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  “Yes,” Owen nodded. “How much is the pay?”

  “We’ll discuss that later. Hang tight.” Tuck left him alone.

  “We’ve wasted enough time,” Sensei Dan said. Owen flinched. He almost forgot about him. “Stand up.” He pulled Owen out of the chair. “You’re going to learn something today.”

  “Fuck off!” Pain ripped through Owen’s arm as Sensei Dan twisted it so hard he thought it might snap. “Let me go!”

  “Rule number one, my foul mouthed pupil.” Dan released him. “Now, assume the natural stance like so. Feet shoulder width apart, toes pointed outward. Hands in front of your belt. Go ahead. This is the easiest part. Keep your knees slightly bent. Nice and comfortable.” Owen reluctantly stood like Dan, feeling like an asshole. “There we go. This is the most basic stance in Hardknuckle karate. This is the foundation we’ll build a Hardknuckle house upon. This shows me you’re ready to begin learning. Now, let’s get you stretched out. I won’t lie. This part is going to hurt a little.”

  It hurt a lot. Sensei Dan didn’t just show Owen how to stretch, he forced his muscles past points he didn’t know they could go. Like wire pulled to the point of snapping. Owen gritted his teeth, breathed hard like the women in the Care Facility health videos on childbirth. Dan stretched his arms and his legs too, threatening that one day Owen would do a full split. But Owen couldn’t protest lest Dan break something for real.

  Could he break something for real? As real as Dan seemed and as real as what he did to Owen felt, it wasn’t. It was a simulation being performed by his body in conjunction with the Hardknuckle program. Owen’s own body tortured him.

  Sensei Dan held Owen in the stretched positions for thirty seconds at a time. His muscles screamed in agony, then a feeling of sudden relief washed over him when Dan released. Time drifted away. His muscles reached the point of snapping. Stretch, hold, release, repeat.

  “I’ve met bricks with more flexibility,” Sensei Dan said as he released Owen. “Back to natural stance.” Owen took the stance, his hyper extended muscles aching. He couldn’t handle another punch. “Take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. Fill those lungs with some nice fresh air.” There wasn’t any fresh air in the city, especially below a manufacturing plant. “Bring your feet together, arms at your sides, and bow. Keep your eyes on me. This is respect.” Dan bowed and Owen did his best to mimic. “Not perfect, but it’ll get better. That’s how training works.”

  “You ready?” Tuck asked as he came around the container while Owen was mid bow. “The hell you doing?”

  “Nothing.” Owen got out of his stance and scratched his head. “I’m ready.”

  Tuck shrugged and led on, away from the manufacturing plant that bled acceptable amounts of pollution into the sky, and into the streets of City Seven. Owen struggled to keep pace. It was his city, but he was a foreigner in the light of day. He wasn’t used to maneuvering the daytime crowds and the aches in his muscles spiked with each step. There was something odd about seeing so many business suits in the streets versus the jumpsuits Owen saw at night.

  They entered a soda bar where the clientele was made up of workers ending their overnight shifts and workers preparing for their daytime shifts. The bartender was a skinny man in his early twenties slinging glass bottles of brightly colored soda. Behind him were racks of name brand sodas and the more generic soda drinks.

  “Where’s the beer?” Sensei Dan asked. He hopped into a low stance. “Is this one of those milk bars? Saw a movie with one of those once.” He squinted. “Nothing good happened.”

  “Alcohol is prohibited in City Seven,” Owen whispered. “Getting caught with it carries a five hundred credit fine.”

  “Barbaric.” Sensei Dan scowled at the men and women enjoying their sugary beverages. “What’s the point of coming here? Just to socialize? Do any of these drinks have caffeine?”

  “Caffeine is prohibited too.”

  “What are you saying?” Tuck asked as he approached the bar.

  “Thinking out loud,” Owen squeaked.

  “Think less loud.” Tuck nodded at the bartender. “Key to room five.” The bartender set a keycard on the counter and Tuck snatched it. “Listen, Owen. Keep quiet while I make introductions, okay. Do you have a scratchpad?”

  “Of course.”

  “Leave it with Fred here.”

  “Why would I—,”

  “Leave it or get walking.”

  Owen dropped his scratchpad on the counter and followed Tuck down a narrow hall. The walls were covered with stylized prints of dogs playing card games. The private rooms were at the end of the hall and Tuck knocked on one four times before he opened the door. The room had a white leather horseshoe shaped couch with a round table in the center. A disco ball slowly spun above, casting shimmering lights on the group within.

  A pair of men sat on one side of the couch and a lone woman in a baseball cap and an oversized green jacket sat on the other. They eyed Owen warily, the bigger of the men looking like he might jump across the drink covered table to wring Owen’s neck.

  “Don’t let his size intimidate you,” Sensei Dan said. He sat in the booth next to the young woman and glared at her. “A bunch of guys and one pretty lady. This job isn’t porn is it? That isn’t befitting of a Hardknuckle disciple.”

  “This isn’t a porn thing is it?” Owen asked Tuck. That was a real possibility. Aimee Reynolds did a whole segment on the underground porn industry that took advantage of poor men and women. “I’m not doing that.”

  The two men laughed. The woman didn’t. She scowled and he could feel hatred emanating from her. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a cube made of colorful squares. Her scowl faded as she flipped the colors.

  “Settle down,” Tuck said. “Take a seat.” Owen slid in the booth next to Sensei Dan while pulled off his side bag and set it on the table. “Everyone, this is Owen. He’s going to be joining us on this job. He comes highly recommended.”

  “He looks twelve,” the big man said. Owen noticed his teeth shining with silver and the way one eye drifted away from his scarred face.

  “Got it, Tom.” Tuck pulled some folders from his bag and passed them out. “This is going to be a clean op. Our target is Christopher Hartley. Our objective is his scratchpad. It’s a Maestro model twelve. He has a lunch meeting at the Coliseum with a client at one thirty.”

  “Target?” Owen asked. He glanced at Sensei Dan.

  “He doesn’t know?” the woman asked. “What the fuck?”

  “I was going to ease him into it,” Tuck said with a shake of his head. “But, Vicky, since you want to jump ahead, tell him.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” Vicky pulled off her baseball cap and tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “Listen up, new guy. You been watching the news?” Owen nodded. “Yeah, you look like a network hound. Bet you jerk your dick to Aimee Reynolds. You know those fires that have been popping up? That’s us.” Owen swallowed. That couldn’t be right.

  “Those were accidents,” Owen said. “The chief peacekeeper said so.”

  “And you believed him?” Tom laughed. He nudged the shorter man. “Look at this guy. Censorship Bureau’s got him good.”

  “Just like you at the start,” the short man said. “I’m Ed by the way.” He was by far the oldest of the group. His face was lined with deep wrinkles and most of his hair and beard went grey a long time ago, yet his green eyes shined with a youthful glow. “Welcome to the team.”

  “You’re terrorists?” Owen said.

  “Kind of,” Tuck said. “I prefer freedom fighters or rebels. Sound good, everyone?” The room nodded with the exception of Owen and Sensei Dan.

  “I need to go,” Owen said as he scooted out of the booth. His every instinct told him to run and report this meeting to the nearest peacekeeper. Maybe they’d wipe his fines for leading them to the actual culprits of the fires. He’d get interviewed for the news. Aimee Reynolds might even be the reporter. He could meet Aimee Reynolds!

  “I can’t let you do that, Owen.” Tuck said. “You wanted this job. You’re a part of this now.” He put one hand on Owen’s chest, the other behind his back. Owen swallowed. He didn’t know what to do. Peacekeeper Paul didn’t cover what to do in this situation.

  “Calm down, Owen,” Sensei Dan said. “He’s got a weapon back there. Likely a knife to keep things quiet. You’re not getting through that door so play along for now. We’ll get through this together.”

  “Okay,” Owen said. He sat down and swallowed. “You don’t need to hurt me.”

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” Tuck said. He took his hand away from his back and smiled. “We want your help. And we will pay you. I bet they didn’t mention the credits we liberated from the bank on the nightly report.” Tuck reassured Owen with a genuine smile. “This is a simple mission. You won’t be in any danger.”