Volume 1: The Theory of the Inevitable Collapse of Human Society

>Chapter 1_

Urban Legends and Modern Folklore

In my defence, they started it.

I protested. For once in my life, I did everything by the book. The way they say you're supposed to.

And this is where it got me! Nowhere!

Because of course it wouldn't. I'm the resident roller skater, and they're the largest corporation on this entire planet. I like fun, they destroy it.

Biotech Innovations: Goldenrod Pharmaceuticals. What a mouthful. And what the hell is B.I.G. Pharma's beef with skating anyway? After all the others, they tore down Montreal's last remaining skatepark. The last place I called home.

Apparently I'm supposed to go through the stages of grief to deal with my loss, but I hear those end in acceptance and that's not my style. "That's just the way it is"? No thanks.

Spray can in hand, I look up at the pompous glass building reflecting the full moon. If Goldenrod hadn't slapped their name on it in the most unremarkable serif font of all time, there'd be nothing to identify this as their headquarters.

They won't mind if I give 'em some personality, right? 'Cause I already did it to their cars. Consistent brand image and all. Their fault for parking here to boast about their wealth. Can't tell me the top dogs are working on a late Friday night.

But even if someone stepped out of this building right this second, it wouldn't matter. Flat tires won't take them far, and they'll never catch up on foot when I'm wearing my skates.

I shake the can and pull a cloth mask over my nose. Couple of expletives here, a few obscene doodles there, and voilà! Message: "You're a bunch of dicks." Sent!

Shifting my weight for my trusty wheels to carry me, I circle the building and leave a trail of pink paint. Under any other circumstance, I'd enjoy breathing in the lingering scent of rain. I'd find pure bliss in taking smooth turns around the corners. I'd believe that wherever I look, somewhere up ahead, I'll be able to go. That I'm free.

They took that from me.

As the can runs out of paint, so does my momentum back at the entrance. No amount of rigorous shaking lets me squeeze out another spritz. So I let go of my little partner in crime and watch it roll into the yellow flower bed circling the headquarters.

Aaand now I feel bad.

Without so much as a sigh, I crouch to pick it up and wipe off the damp soil.

"Not like it's your fault, buddy," I mumble as I swap the can for the spare in my backpack.

Drawing the shape of lemons with my wheels, I roll back to admire the scene. My own particularly, let's say, creative rendition of a certain body part makes me snort. I don't suppose that would fall under artistic nudity if I shared it?

Yeah, no, I'll snap a quick pic for the memories, nothing more. Wouldn't want my account banned. Again. Because if it happened now...

Meh, no point in worrying about things before they happen.

Equipped with red paint this time, I begin my second lap around the building. Unlike the bumpy city streets plagued by cracks and potholes, the concrete here is smooth. Flawlessly, stupidly so.

It's always like that with Goldenrod. Acting prim and proper on the outside, but on the inside—

Fwwp.

Startled by the sound of a sliding door, I bring my feet together to come to an abrupt stop. A lanky figure stands in the frame, face concealed by a hood and mask, frozen in place much like myself.

Well, this is awkward.

Nothing but a silhouette is discernible in the darkness. Call it a hunch, but I get the feeling they don't like that I'm here. And that I sprayed them.

Gotta say, though, Goldenrod must've slashed the security budget. That's the physique of someone who in all their life has never lifted even a finger. I could take 'em on in a fight, and I'm tiny. In fact, I'll—

"Hey, you."

—not do that. A tad anticlimactic, but who cares. My work here is done.

Time to skedaddle!

Bolting away, I make for the parking lot. As I close in on the barrier, I crouch and hug my knees to slide under it while this clown chases after me. On foot! How lame.

"Where do you think you're going!?"

"New to the job, eh?" I quip, pulling down my mask. "What's it look like!?"

"Wait!" The deep-voiced shout oozes desperation. "I'm not—"

"Yeah, yeah, later, loser!"

My eyes are fixed on the second barrier. Behind me, frantic footsteps try and fail to keep up in an almost admirable display of persistence. Too bad, then, that I'm about to get a free speed boost. Should've thought twice before building an office district on a hill.

As simple as a three, two, one, I squat down and leap over the speed bump that separates the pristine corporate property from the barely maintained city streets.

Floating mid-air, there's only one thing on my mind as I approach the rough surface and angle awaiting me:

Bracing for impact!