One Last Hit

For Dru, walking the sidewalk had become a battle. A game of inches. A fight to against a tide that threatened to carry him away. It hadn't always been that way.

He could remember when he was little, before the Pharmos had taken over their lives, how it had just been people. Some walking, some running, and yes, a few people shoving their way through the crowd, but not like this.

Some of the crowd were still norms, like he was, just people with a place to go. But the ones that weren't...

To his right was someone clearly on Smash, they had to be a good seven feet tall and the green skin was a dead giveaway. The girl on his right, who the hell knew what she was taking... her skin was a translucent orange, and her hair... it was somehow both a liquid and a solid at the same time. I mean, what the hell was the purpose of that? The worst though, was the messengers.

They had used bikes up to last year, right up until they had kicked him out. Now they were all on foot, their bodies little more than a flicker as they dashed through traffic. They had offered him the same deal. Give back half of his wages and he'd get a one hour dose of Flash, more than enough to finish the days run. No way was he putting that shit in his body. He's seen the people he once called friends, burned out in a heap afterwards. He swore it was like you borrowed the speed you had for the rest of the day, just to burn it out in the one hour you worked for the corp. No way was that going to be him.

Crossing the street, Dru reached his destination, a rather upscale looking electronics shop. He reached out to wring the buzzer only to have his hand nearly taken off by another blur of a messenger. He would have yelled him, shouted after whatever was so important it had to pass him by at over a hundred miles an hour, but he knew it would serve no purpose. His words would never catch him.

Wary of another messenger, Dru tentatively reached out and mashed the call button. There was a pause, followed by the sudden appearance of a talking head on a small monitor set above the buzzer.

"How can I help you?"

"Dru Mercado. I'm here about the coder job."

"Ahhh, my Eleven O'clock. Right on time. Come on in, just tell the person at the front desk that you're here for an interview.

Drew nodded and as the video image flickered into nothingness, he pulled open the door and went inside.

...

The office he was shown to was impressive, if small. All bright white plastic and brushed aluminum, a design aesthetic that seemed to dominate the first half of the 21st century. The back of the office was a giant vid screen, and the wall behind Dru was all glass, giving a view of the design floor and the employees that worked it.

The man sitting behind the desk in front of him was middle aged, thin, with a receding hairline. While his appearance screamed generic middle management, his face seemed hold a genuine smile, and for a moment Dru had hope.

"So you're interested in the coding position," said the man, whose name tag identified him as Raymond Barnes. "I see you have experience in ArC and Jasper, and a solid 3.8 GPA."

Barnes flipped over the resume in his hand, glancing at the long list of high school accomplishments and awards that filled the page.

"Wow. Busy guy. You know I have to say, with a resume this good I would have thought you'd already have a scholarship waiting for you."