It was a hot day. Not hellish, but a hot, moist day that made your turgid veins excited. A searing day that made you want to get a salubrious cold drink and dick around with your friends in the city, eyes hungry, pockets lewd to be spent. A day like this was way too hot for March, but complaints weren't whispered. 

Nick let the windows down. He had chosen to borrow Jonathan's old Corolla, seeing as he didn't have his own ride. He never failed to do this and while he should feel ashamed by all the prosperous Neondas on the road, he couldn't help being passive about it. Maybe a bit disappointed, but never mortified for driving it. Jonathan never bitched about it, surely, but it silently ate him more than it did Nick.

The car behind Nick blew a horn and then slid past him, hovering on two emblazoned neon sensors. Its sleek silvery finish was branded by its slicing violet lines, maneuvering effortlessly down the road. It had no wheels and maintained the art of hovering because its deep violet sensors connected to the magnetized road allowing it to push through the tarmac. Three more of them swept past Nick, one bled in yellow, another in green, and the final in blue.

The Neondas (a mooted renaming of Neon Hondas) was the latest innovation in driving. No serious driver didn't have one. Especially one who was enlightened by their spending. The Neondas ruled the world of transportation, and there was no denying this debated ubiquitous fact. The vehicles ate less gas, were much smarter, cleaner, and more devilishly attracted to your bank account. It was prided as one of the many dubious inquiries of Brian North. There had been a scurrilous debate as to whether to even allow such vehicles into the state because they stood so lavishly destructive to people's finances. It was probably because of the evident price tag that allowed commonplace vehicles to continue driving the roads.

Nick's eyes hit the sheen of the towering glass buildings. The sun drizzled on the bank of his impromptu arrival. A myriad of giant corporate buildings, stores, and restaurants engorged him until his car touched rear end, and parked on the side of a garage building. There was a beaten sign that read do not park but there had also been the unwritten sign that said do not piss behind a library statue after your fourth Mountain Dew, and Nick ignored that too. Effortlessly.

Nick took in the rush as he got out of the car. He made his way down the crosswalk and walked down the avenue of brightly colored garish buildings. The area was wide and sprawling with tall bolstered glassy erections that all had the face of a digital billboard constructed to them. Everywhere Nick looked, he was berated with slideshows of billboards all displaying the newest and hottest tech crunches of a new virtual reality game. He flurried past an Italian restaurant where across from it was a billboard for Frenzy, then another one popped up for Yizzio, and then for Slatquake, Hairraiser, Katran, and Blue which stood blazing ostentatiously above a small Starbucks. Everywhere Nick stumbled his little nimble feet, they were trying to sell him a game. All of which he would inevitably never get the chance to play even if he wanted to.

When Nick approached the end of the sidewalk, he saw it. He finally saw it. It was the biggest digital sign in all of downtown Columbus, and it stood towered on its own, sequestered, on the massive digital screen known as the iTech (the length and width of four stacked trucks). A king kong of innovation. The very technical monster that Brian North struggled to fight against. Legislators were mixed, or simply raw with indifference. But just like the Neondas, North had lost the digital war again. 

The device displayed the titular mysteries and resplendence of Chaos. The hellish title blazed proud and red in front of the ant-like population. 

The anarchy symbol that represented the A stood in a dark glamour that made people stare with oohs and aahs. It was the type of glamour that was morally unsound and otherworldly. Nick hadn't been the only one captivated by the billboard for a slew of people had also seen the billboard image. Then another slideshow came on and it read, "Coming Soon."

"Way to make me piss myself. Now I have to wait until it comes out," an Indian guy shouted. A group of Asian girls murmured something about it but their twittering voices never seemed to travel far enough into Nick's ear. The crowd swiftly dispersed in mousy chatters.

A pink Neonda honked its horn.

"Do you have eyes?" Two girls had bumped into Nick as he was walking down the crosswalk, They had dropped their luxury bags. Nick landed squarely on his bottom and stared imploringly at the girls. They were in their mid-twenties, blonde, drenched in their lavish, sybarite beauty. The sheen of their golden hair whipped back and the urgent shine of their glittering rings played a taunting game on their fingers.

"Sorry," Nick said, getting up. His voice was almost inaudible.

As if nothing had even happened, Nick looked up at the billboard. The dramatic title had returned.

Nick plopped himself down to help pick up the clothes. He was about to put them into one of the bags when his hand was slapped.

"What are you doing?" snarled the blonde girl. She was the one with the stronger eyebrows and bigger ass. Her perfume was a seductive mix of anger and belittlement.

"It's ok, Trista," said the other blonde, who seemed more weary and ready to move on with the day. She didn't look at Nick. She couldn't be bothered.

"No, that was a 4,000 dollar Armani dress! That was my paycheck! Now it's all wet. And my perfume...it's all thanks to slimy critters like you!" Trista stared accusingly at Nick.

"Thanks, I try," said Nick.

The two voluptuous blondes glared at him. "You think this is funny?"

"No. I think it's hilarious."

Nick resented the look of the girl beside Trista the most. The look she gave him summarized it all. It spelled contempt. It spelled pride. It spelled sexual bias. It spelled: Look at you, do you even have the guts to be with me?

Nick wanted to stomp on their clothes, spit on their bags, rape them dead and dry, and call it a day, but he was irritably distracted by the bulge of their boobs. He forced a wry grin and looked up at the Chaos sign. Should he tell them? Just lie and tell them. They won't be impressed, but at least you'll have something over them. Duplicity didn't hold any concurrent weight on this stage.

To Nick's surprise, the girls were also looking at the billboard. "Ugh, I wish I could just be in that game. Then I could just swim in all the money I want. I'm sick of sleeping with simps," said Trista. The two blonde girls grabbed all their clothes and bags and trundled off. Nick stared at the girl's asses jiggling until the image of Stephanie popped into his mind. His heart panged in guilt. He scurried forward, hoping this time not to bump into anyone else.