Blade Over Heart (03/28/07)
The setting sun reflected in the cosmic blackness of her motorcycle helmet.
Her Kawasaki Ninja 3000 was standing on a cliff that was overseeing the urban landscape, the sunset tinting all buildings a dark shade of orange. The air was cold and dry, and not a single breeze disturbed the lifeless view. The town was sleeping. This one was no different from the many she's traveled through before, nothing but another town in the long list of towns marked by her momentary passing.
She softly slid her fingers across the handlebar until she reached the rigid texture of the grip.
When the world ran out of oil, Generation Future became a gritty, dirty society out of a cheap paperback cyberpunk novel. No more cars, no more Internet. No psychology consultations for obnoxious crybabies who couldn't deal with their lives on their own. Only survival of the fittest. Preservation of land, a constant need to prove your right for existence.
The gas in her fuel-tank was for many to kill for. But she didn't care. Cyberpunk was now, and she loved every minute of it.
The sun finally disappeared over the horizon. She turned on her headlight. For her, this world was a world of opportunity. A world of freedom.
And freedom smelled of burnt rubber.
The setting sun reflected in the cosmic blackness of her motorcycle helmet.
Her Kawasaki Ninja 3000 was standing on a cliff that was overseeing the urban landscape, the sunset tinting all buildings a dark shade of orange. The air was cold and dry, and not a single breeze disturbed the lifeless view. The town was sleeping. This one was no different from the many she's traveled through before, nothing but another town in the long list of towns marked by her momentary passing.
She softly slid her fingers across the handlebar until she reached the rigid texture of the grip.
When the world ran out of oil, Generation Future became a gritty, dirty society out of a cheap paperback cyberpunk novel. No more cars, no more Internet. No psychology consultations for obnoxious crybabies who couldn't deal with their lives on their own. Only survival of the fittest. Preservation of land, a constant need to prove your right for existence.
The gas in her fuel-tank was for many to kill for. But she didn't care. Cyberpunk was now, and she loved every minute of it.
The sun finally disappeared over the horizon. She turned on her headlight. For her, this world was a world of opportunity. A world of freedom.
And freedom smelled of burnt rubber.
幻術
