Monday, 11 March 2013
My submission to this week's 'Writers' Discussion Group' weekly writing competition 600 worder...
Wanda had one of the most dangerous jobs in the city, but today, before she could do anything else, she had to collect her cat from the vets.
Hovering high above the mean streets, she had carefully climbed up through the seventeen layered lanes of aero-traffic, to the clinic, located high up on the Leicesteropolis skyline.
Fortunately, Mawgana, her five years old black companion was ready and waiting, and a skip and hop from the aerial walkway into the basket of Wanda’s ‘Skyvespa 1200’ and a swipe with her, as usual, severely depleted debit blade, saw them away, and making a cautious decline, down through the rush-hour lanes.
Leicesteropolis had grown significantly after the ‘double-dip’ recession of the early 21st century, and the Government building scheme, to turn English cities into the cities of the future, upwards and outwards, had gone crazy.
But it had got the country moving. Makers made; builders built; retailers sold all the new trappings of 2050, and shoppers went to the sales.
Today was to be no different. It started bright and sunny, and the heavy aero-traffic on the main thoroughfare was heavier than normal, signifying it was a special day.
Today was the day that all the retailers did their ‘daily freebie’ and the shoppers were in town in their thousands.
This was not a day for Wanda to be pushed, in what was, already, the most dangerous job in the metropolis.
In the past three days, forty-two sky-riders had died as a result of mid air collisions, mostly involving the window-shoppers, seeking out what this week’s ‘freebie of the day’ would be.
Falling from the top to middle lanes was terminal. If you didn’t get hit on the way down, the landing killed you.
And what of the drivers of 2050?
The decision to allow anyone who had shown their competence on an earlier version of ‘sky scooter’, from the safety of their own ‘virtual aero-lane’, had been poorly welcomed by the AA (Aero-lane Anonymous – the organisation for nervous and traumatized sky-riders).
Consequently, everybody, from the six year old to the one-hundred and six year old, now had their hands on the ride of 2050, and the ‘Skyvespa 1200’ had a reputation as the bad boy!
And that is why Wanda had chosen it!
More power, more speed, and killer accessories for the ‘Fashionista 2050’. Wanda was the stereotypical ‘Fashionista’, with her matching ‘Skyvespa’ threads, in matching protective micro-skirt and slip-ons, her hair tied back ‘a la Romanesque’, parading brightly on her modern chariot.
Wanda quickly gathered her thoughts and needs of the day, before loading up the front and rear baskets of her ‘ride’, and quickly checking in with her controller.
‘Sure you’re up to this today Wan?’ asked the nervous sounding girl at the other end.
‘Never seen it so bad before though’ said Wanda.
‘That extra payday last week! S’pose they’ll be loaded and not just after the freebie of the day' came the reply.
‘But a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do’ said Wanda, shaking her head, and clearing her mind.
‘What have you go for me first?’ said Wanda.
‘Not a good start, sixteenth floor, Charles and Rutland. See Mister Ellis. Two for you today. Be careful though, he’s a bad-ass!’ warned the girl controller.
‘Okay Hun’ said Wanda, firing up her ride, and heading up through the lanes of mental travellers, taking her life in her hands, possibly for the very last time.
Knocking on the window, a very angry looking man opened it up.
‘Mr Ellis?’ gulping.
‘Two large Cappuccinos, with extra cream?’
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