Chapter 3: To Be Young Again

She zooms between skyscrapers on her hoverbike, avoiding civilians and police alike.

Zip. Zap. Zoom.

A public security official is behind her, likely to give her a speeding ticket. She doesn't mind, though. She can only get ticketed if the official actually catches her. And she's never been caught before.

She weaves between all the buildings with fluidity and ease. The cop is still on her tail, sirens wailing and megaphone blaring.

"Ma'am, please pull over."

Yea...no way.

As an orphan, she grew up without anybody pressuring her or telling her what to do. As a result, she has always acted more freely than did other children. On the negative side, she never got to experience the joys of having a parent. Oh, well. If you win some, you lose some, right?

Back to the matter at hand. She needs to shake the cop off, and fast. Or else, she might actually get caught for once, which would be a big deal. For her ego. Paying the ticket is small business, but if people heard that the queen of underground racing got ticketed by a street cop... the consequences would truly be dire.

She points the nose of her bike up and hits the pedal, accelerating upward rapidly. The cop does the same, following her. She keeps on going higher, avoiding bikers who honk at her and magnetic-rail lines. She goes all the way up until she can see Hornet-Class star ships. She has now broken into Upper City.

The sight never ceases to amaze her. Although it was day, the sky above Upper City was always dark and tinged with a royal blue color at the horizon line. The fade from blue to black served as almost a reminder that although the planet is beautiful, there is an endless expanse to be explored beyond the upper levels of the atmosphere. The skyscrapers were on average five miles tall, hitting bottom of the troposphere, thus rightfully honoring their name. Small ships traveled around in Upper City, bringing materials and whatever they were carrying to Star Ports to be shipped to interstellar space. Private mansions could be seen at the top of the buildings of Upper City, reminding her of the wealth difference between the people that live here and her people, the ones who live in Lower City.

The cop, too hesitant to travel up to Upper City, turned around and left. She would follow shortly after. The radiation levels and lack of oxygen pose a threat, since she was not wearing a helmet and a protective suit.

She rode her bike onto the top of a public building and dismounted. There was an elevator that would bring her to Lower City, she noticed. She entered the elevator and pressed the "0" button.

The elevator accelerates slowly, but it reaches very high velocity. In no time, she's traveling at a quarter of the speed of sound. In less than a minute, she fell five miles without feeling a thing. The door opens and she walks her bike out.

Like Upper City, Lower City is perpetually dark, but for a very different reason; Upper City borders space, while Lower City simply receives less light because of the tall buildings. On the massive foundations of the skyscrapers were all different kinds of graffiti art, representing the rebellious spirit of those who inhabited Lower City.

The streets were empty, as were the stores that lined them... or so it seems from the outside. The woman walks to a place titled "Club Nautica" and enters. She locks her bike up in a garage the store offers and heads down a flight of stairs.

It seems as if all of the population of Lower City is crammed into the small club. There are people with dyed hair colors, eye colors, even skin colors. There are people with different implants, with mechanical body parts, and of all shapes and sizes.

"Hey," a teenage boy with freckles calls out to her. "Wassup, Ryder?"

Yes, Ryder is her name. It's not the name she was born with, but the name she chose. Ever since she was a kid, she had a knack for riding hoverbikes. She could beat people with twice as much experience and four times her size. Her gift at riding bestowed her her nickname, which, over time, replaced her old name.

"Not much, Piik," she responds. "How 'bout you?"

"Ah... not much," Piik says to her. "Just working on my... contraptions."

"Oh?" Ryder says, a twinkle in her eyes, "Can I see them?"

"No, not yet," says Piik. "Although, you could probably just read my mind and see everything."

He was right. Unlike in her old world, the people in this world have mental abilities called "psionic powers." With those abilities, one could force objects to move, communicate thoughts, or even control other people, like Ryder could, although she never went that far. The psionic potential of a person is classified by various ranks: a level one psionic is hardly different from a normal human, but a level ten is potentially dangerous on a planetary level. Ryder is a level fourteen. She has to wear a psionic dampener created by Piik when out in public to conceal her power from the government.

"I suppose I could read your mind," says Ryder, "But I wouldn't be able to make any sense out of that mess. It's better if you tell me yourself."

Piik chuckles. "I don't know whether to feel insulted or to thank you for not invading my privacy."

"Either way," Ryder says, "you're welcome."

"Touché."

"Want to show me what you've been working on?" asks Ryder.

"Sure," says Piik. "Follow me."

They head to a back room of the club that is full of tools, machine parts, and tables.

Piik picks up a device that looks like an oversized wristwatch. "This," he states, "Is a prototype of something I call the 'Psi-blade.' It's powered entirely by psi-energy, so in order to make it work, you simply will it..." He attaches the Psi-blade to his wrist, and a beam of energy two feet long shoots out. "...like so."

The beam seems to flicker, like a flame, but it is not hot. It is tinted with a light blue color. Ryder looks at it in wonder.

"Can I touch it?" she asks.

"No, it's too dangerous" Piik responds. "It's powerful enough to cut through metal." He grabs a sheet of titanium and slices it in half to demonstrate. "I'm still creating a glove to complement the blade so that people don't accidentally chop their hands off. Besides that, there are also a lot of things I need to perfect."

"Wow," says Ryder, "What is this for, exactly?"

"Nothing in particular," says Piik. "I was bored."

"Can I have it when you're done?" asks Ryder.

"Sure. I'll even make more if you wish."

"Thanks. Want to go grab a drink?"

"Yea," says Piik. "This time it's on you?"

"What?" proclaims Ryder. "I thought I bought us drinks last time!"

The two exit the room, laughing as they leave, and head toward the bar outside.