They finally fucked up. 15 years of waiting and watching and planning. c3Zpa2FyaQ and I were finally able to escape. A guard got tight and left our cell unguarded, we took our chances and CZ broke our way out.
We ran as fast as we possibly could. The guards didn’t notice nor did they care. They were too busy gambling and buying as many whores as they could. Who the fuck cares what they did in this hellhole. I would too if I was given the chance. The whores are nice enough and everyone down here already has some sort of STD anyway.
There, we were finally there. The goddamn lifts. The only way to escape: this prison was the lowest point on the planet and the only way to leave without drawing everyone’s eyes on us was with a key-pass. I was able to get one by doing unsavoury favours for some perverted guard. But I also had to look the part. The old biddies there would notice if some scraggly kid and his torn up robot tried to escape. Well, it didn’t help that my handsome mug was plastered on almost every wall.
I get it. You captured me, big deal. Now I escaped and you’ll have to do this for the third time. Just stop acting as if you care at this point Al-Dawla. You’ve ‘ruled’ over the planet for 50 years and you think stopping some 20-year-old matters at this point.
Some unlucky dud noticed us, so I threw a punch and managed to get his bulk in an alleyway. He was the size of 2 of me but his garbs would have to do. Anyone with half a brain could tell that the clothes weren’t mine, but I can always play the orphan hand-me-downs card. If they ask about CZ? He’s my pa’s old mate. The old biddies always have it soft for youngsters.
Waiting in line is the worst part. With my cap down I try to make sure no one notices us. CZ isn’t on the wanted poster but his mug is in every robot’s database. The only ‘bots down here are some mopsters.
Just my luck. as soon as I say something, they appear. Them and their ‘bots. “Hey have you seen a kid with red hair, goes by the alias of Maro Taft”
Ah shit. We’re up in line next. We just gotta wait for this old biddy. The Earles were on to us.
“The Earles are pulling off people’s hats and the 212-2221-1221-2211s are scanning people’s faces,” CZ announced
“Yeah, no shit” The Earles like to name their bots with numbers instead of names or codes, they want to sound smart or some jazz. Us Streeters call them the 2-Tones. They were getting closer. They looked at us and were about to yell at us. The 2-Tones probably recognized CZ at this point. It’s kind of difficult to miss him when he's 6 feet and missing his eye.
“Next, please” it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The little old biddy finally called us into her booth. The Earles and the 2-Tones can’t look in here. The biddies get mad and you don’t want to see them when they get mad. “Key-pass and destination please.”
“New Upstate” I handed her the key-pass. The biddy glared at me through her glasses, “names please”
“I’m Nero and this is Obotray” I glanced around anxiously. I wrung my hands together and I could feel CZ pushing against me trying to shield me. The biddy nodded, handed me back my key-pass and got on the phone. I could feel CZ tense behind me.
“Protection Officers to Alley 3, there’s an underage patron, please accompany him to the lift pronto”
I had a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t the Earles. P.O.s are just glorified bag-checkers. This man comes waddling over, looking proud of himself for being able to have such an oh so important job. He is about the size of a pig and he looks like one too. I’m pretty sure the whores hate him, Webster. Either he’s got the same name or he gets a little too rowdy with the ladies. He takes me by the back of my dickey and yanks me along to the lift.
“What not even a thank you?” he smells of alcohol and he barks a laugh.
I flip him off and get in. The doors shut and immediately it shoots up. I hold onto CZ for dear life. I can never get over how horrible these things are. The Creators can build these amazing ‘bots that have everything one can hope and dream for but they can’t make a lift that is a little smoother. The lift bounces and rocks and sways until we reach the latitude. Then the lift does the worst thing. It moves right as fast as the speed of light. It’s so horrible and the lift manager is just standing there laughing at the crowd of us ready to throw up. ‘Bots aren’t supposed to have emotions yet they still are able to ‘amuse’ themselves at the enjoyment of us ‘headies’.
Goddamn finally, we had reached our goddamn level. The Creators think they’re so high and mighty for building the entire planet like a goddamn Wonka factory but they don’t know the first thing about nothing. CZ and I step out into the familiar piss-scented air. The Walkways may sound as nice as a picnic but it is about as nice as the aftermath of flat shoes. CZ and I walked down the barely lit street, every few alleys or so there would be some dame and her pal having a whoopee. I averted my eyes, don’t need to have that scarred into my noggin.