The sun beat down on the dusty spaceport. People scurried about like ants. Surveillance drones flew overhead, filming everything. The government had eyes everywhere.
Anson Miller ducked as rotors whining in the hot air passed within three feet of him. He hurried into the cool recesses of the only bar in town.
The robot at the door beeped a warning. Anson lifted his arms, waiting as mechanical arms ran a security check. Detecting no weapons, it allowed Anson to enter.
"The usual, please."
The old bartender reached under the counter, pulling out a DNA scanner. "I need to check you before I give you a drink."
Audibly exhaling, Anson pulled up his sleeve. "Come on, Jack. I'm in here every day at the same time for the past ten years. You know what I can have."
Jack ran the wand over the skin. "The readout says one shot of liquor or two beers."
"I always drink one beer." He laughed bitterly. "Can't have the government thinking I'm trying to drink myself to death, can I?"
The cool, frosty mug held less than a pint. Jack set it down on the bar. "You know, I been a bartender for nearly sixty years. Things sure have changed."
"Come on, Jack." Anson took a sip, savoring the taste of the amber fluid. "You pour drinks and talk. What's different?"
A smile appeared on Jack's face. "Serve more than what the government recommends, you end up in the camps. You can't break the law without consequences. After all, rules are rules."
Leaning forward, Anson whispered, "Fuck the rules. Tell me what it used to be like."
Instead of answering, Jack flipped a switch that shut down the security bot and locked the front door. Stepping out from behind the bar, he motioned for Anson to follow.
The alley reeked of stale beer and urine, assailing Anson's senses. Pulling out a kerchief, he covered his nose and mouth. Trailing Jack down the filthy backstreet, he resisted the urge to look down when his shoe squished into an unknown substance.
Coming to a dead end, Jack rapped on the brick wall. A slot appeared.
"Capone, Alphonse," Jack whispered. "Two of us. I'll vouch for the kid."
A portion of the wall slid inward, revealing a small opening. Grabbing Anson's arm, Jack pushed him into the light.
Gaping at the people inside, Anson exclaimed, "Is that the chief of police talking to the mayor?"
"No. They're just two nameless, faceless people enjoying themselves. You don't talk about what goes on here, or bad things will happen." Jack pulled Anson deeper into the room, toward the crowded bar. "We're all just people doing whatever the hell we want to do, without government interference. Just like the good old days." He rapped his knuckles on the bar, getting the attention of the harried bartender. "Two liter mugs and a couple of shots." Turning to Anson, he grinned. "Why don't you tell her what you want?"
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SmackDown: Back to Our Roots
Science FictionOur previous two SmackDowns were both massive successes, and it's high time for another. You might remember the last one was heavy on the "game" elements, maybe even too heavy. This time we're going back to the basics and keeping it simple. It's jus...
