The Zone by Stu Jones
Publisher: Dropship Publishing
Publication Date: July 11, 2023
About the Book
THE ZONE BY STU JONES EXCERPT
Up the covered stairs, Chance ran his wrist chip under the domed scan-droid and trudged onto a platform littered with garbage and a handful of people with nowhere else to sleep. Dirty and unmoving, they lay under piles of trash in the deepening cool of night. Could be worse. I could be them, Chance thought. He checked his watch—10:45 p.m. Another sigh escaped him.
“Got any Feels?” A bum sat up regarding Chance with a purple-veined face, smelling of cheap wine. “Or Krystal?”
“No, sir. I don’t do drugs.” Chance eyed the man.
“What about T’s?” the bum said.
“Nope.”
“Thasa jakkin’ lie,” the bum slurred. “I know you got T’s.”
Chance scowled, flicking his eyes at the man. With a whine, the train eased into the station behind him, colored graffiti twisted in ropy bands down the length of the segmented cars.
“What do you want me to say?” Chance said. “Of course, I’ve got T’s. Just none to spare. Get lost.”
“You don’t hafta be an azzole about it,” the bum grumbled.
“Yeah? Well, here’s a tip—Panhandling 101. Don’t insult the people you’re begging from—it’s bad form.” Chance stepped onto the mostly empty train. The bum gave him the finger as the doors closed. Chance shook his head and found a seat. NTPD wasn’t even running off the bums anymore. Not high enough on the list of priorities.
The light rail shoved forward, picking up speed with an electric whine.
Chance leaned back into the smooth plastic bench seat, deep in thought. The clouded windows of the rail car streaked with droplets of rain, and the massive breadth of his city opened up before him. Steam rose in hazy pillars above moldering buildings, run-down apartment towers, the bars, cafés, and clubs with their flashing video signs and holographic displays touting Girls, Guns, Feels, and Sony’s Latest in Cybernetic Enhancements. Ahead, a giant holographic billboard with digital exploding fireworks showcased a recent win by one of The Zone’s Enforcers—a powerful woman in sleek purple and gold tactical armor marked by the call sign Takedown.
Chance gave a cynical chuckle. The opium of the masses.
He scanned the fetid neon cityscape. A darkness, a murky desperation, hung in the air, the atmosphere stale with poverty, oppression, and regret. Chance loved his city. It was all he’d ever known. But he’d grown weary, disillusioned by the sheer unending squalor that wormed its way into every good thing.
How is it possible to find hope in a place like this?
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