Appeared in Antipodean SF #85 – June 2005
Kuykdall runs down Mercury Street, pushing people out of the way as he rushes past, the pounding of his heart so loud that it mutes any pedestrian cries of irritation. He turns the corner at Hathor Boulevard. The white marble pinnacle of Amaterasu Genetic Engineering rises nearby, two hundred storeys high. Last weekend his friends Jack and Alona bought their new baby here. It will be a girl: a blonde and she’ll like pickled onions.
Kuykdall runs on. He breathes heavily, burning more energy than he can get from oxygen. The lactic acid makes his legs ache. At the next intersection a school bus nearly runs him over. Its carbon brake discs glow bright red as the two-storey transporter screeches to a halt. The round window of the cockpit spirals open and the driver leans out to shout abuse at him, but Kuykdall is already gone.
He’s gaining on her, he’s sure of that.