The Industrialist

He lay still in his chilling grave, surrounded by cold metal sheets, with only a faint string of light fingering through the crevice made by his laser knife earlier.

The silence lay still, the kid in the coffin-like junction box matched his silence outside, oblivious of what would transpire next. Boldly, he twisted his arm, forcing his thin limb to move against a constricted space, and grasped one poison bomb from his beaten knapsack.

He clicked it once. The poison bomb activated as the small LED of green light glowed inside. One footfall of a boot betrayed the silence, and then he knew. He clicked the poison bomb twice and the countdown begins, five seconds.

The metallic cover suddenly swung open. It was a security guard, black-clad padded vest, night vision visors, and thick-soled boots, with an electric baton squirming with surging current on his right hand and a flabbergasted face.

"You little…." The guard hissed. Two seconds to go. It was too long. Reactively, the guard used his electric baton to stun Lance but failed, instead, it went through the side of the latter's armpit and short-circuited the junction box behind him.

The guard may have been distracted by the blinking metallic sphere in Lance's hand. As the panel board screamed of high-powered electrical surges, Lance pushed himself out against the heavier physique of the security guard and disarrayed his two colleagues behind him. One second, the bomb dropped to the concrete floor, then it exploded. Invading thick blue cloud among them.

With the proximity of the bomb, they had zero visibility.

"Master, to your left!" Jasper loomed an instruction.

As soon as Lance hauled himself, breaking through reaching arms of the knocked-down security guard, he dashed straight to his left without regard of any obstruction but only his trust in his AI friend who whispered behind his ear.

His hands forward caught the interlinked gate and exited the premises of the central optical junction boxes. However, his escape had not reached its finality. More boots came from all corners, covering his exits.

'The security guards might have converged on this site as reported by the three,' He thought.

So instantly, he thought of the only exit possible. However, his crew back in Kranian Industries would miss him tomorrow.

He darted in the opposite to where his exit would be, going deeper to the central parts of the Sector, the Electronic Waste yards.

Two blocks ahead, so near but seemed so far. It felt far, with the force of the security behind him. Electric stun bullets were fired, missing their marks, and flying passed him. On his flank at the left corner, the marching group came too, closing on him every waking second.

He believed his long legs and strong heart had given him the advantage over these middle-aged men. His strides were long, his speed was topnotch, and even the weight of the bombs inside his knapsack was almost neglectable.

Then, he arrived at the electronic scrap yards, unscathed. Then he knew he was trapped. 'It was better this way,' He thought.

***

Precinct 13.

He sat in a chair beside a long metallic table, cold smoothness penetrating against his shackled palms on top of it. On top of the table were his three poison bombs lined up, and his beaten knapsack placed unkempt at the side. Next to it was a high-powered computer voltage regulator.

The corner fog lamps shrieked intensely unto him like he was a rabid animal ready to be tranquilized. Mirrors on all sides of the walls suggested that there would be an interrogation soon.

It was better this way and pay the penalty than to be caught for data theft, surely the punishment would be grave. Knowing the Corporation had regulated public use of Opticoms, mobile high-generation AI, and many more. These Ordinances were issued like rain, some of them inclined to the prevention of data and communication theft.

One alarm, the door across him opened, and a fat police officer, loosely adjusting his belt walking in. A familiar physique and a familiar face emerged after the door shuts behind him.

"Lance Berkley, I know I have seen you before," The officer said so lazily as he swallowed what he recently chewed. He flicked a few food remains on the side of his lip with his fingers and pulled a chair in front of him.

As the officer's face overcame the brightness of the fog lamps, he then knew he was at precinct thirteen.

"Officer Mat Brown of precinct 13," Lance said plainly.

"You remembered? You are sharp, kid."

"Of course, it was only two months ago."

"You seemed different. I did not see it way back that you are a criminal. Well, Jonaz Enterprises were subtle criminals that you can determine in plain sight, but you, mysterious." Officer Mat said.

"That's because I am not a criminal," Lance responded.

"Really, now!" Mat released a laugh, his palm drummed against the metallic table. "You just steal a regulator for Science's sake. Caught in the act. You are lucky you are not stealing data or something on those junction boxes because you go straight to jail, I bet it. Or maybe you are, we just can't trace it because it's fried."

A big relief visited the kid in question. Luck gave him a free pass from stealing data from the junctions.

"You know why we do these things, officer."

"What then? Enlighten me." He leaned back in his chair, slouched, and crossed his legs. He released a deep sigh and a mischievous grin plastered his expression.

To Lance, the officer's demeanor meant that whatever he would say, he would still face the consequences.

"Oppression of the Government and Corporation, Officer Mat," Lance said. "Commoners do these things, steal, rob, scam, because of the necessity to survive. You are just lucky, officer that policemen are paid more than that of a factory worker, that's times two. I know it is wrong to steal, but these are only petty crimes, that trigger human instincts of survival.

Well, to tell you the truth, I steal because we are governed by the laws only advantageous to the privileged. Increasing money into their deep pockets."

"You keep your opinions to yourself, Mister Berkley." He took out from his pocket his Opticom – they called it a cellphone before the Nuclear World War. He trained his finger against the digital pad.

"Hmm. You are lucky. TechNova agreed only to pay ten times the amount of the regulator, as the Ordinance says here. Hmm. Let me check… 60 units for the uncommon level scrap regulator, so you are going to pay 600 units as a penalty. If you can't pay it, then you will have two months jail time and twenty days equivalent of community service." Mat had a teasing smirk on his face.

Lance knew what Mat was thinking. The officer thought that Lance could not pay up the penalty and would undergo jail time and community service.

"So kid, surrender your belongings to the Desker office adjacent to this room and you will be spending two months from now."

As he started to haul himself up, a condescending stare lingered some more then sauntered towards the door, he stopped as Lance spoke.

"Where do I transfer the units?"

"What the hell are you talking about kid? Do you have any 600 units in you? You won't steal something like trash if you have that much money." Mat sneered and retreated from the door back to where he sat.

"I guess it won't happen again, Officer," Lance responded and saw the Officer's expression turn bitter.

Fuming in rage, Officer Mat took hard steps and grasped his cuffs so painfully for Lance's wrist, metal against the skin. Officer Mat pressed his thumb in between the cuffs that connected his wrists and the two circular metallic rings that held his wrists opened up, resting his wrists from their constrictions.

Officer Mat ushered him into the adjacent Desker office where he would pay his penalty. Unexpectedly, the Deskers were police officers too, commoners.

"By the way, I am keeping those smoke bombs of yours for evidence," Mat said as he pushed down Lance to a chair.

"Theft, again?" One police officer said as Lance sat across from one Desker officer.

"One of many for this week," The Desker who handled Lance responded. "Woah! Rich aren't you? Are you going to pay this kinda money?"

Lance nodded.

The Desker officer held his stare like he was going to laugh. "Ok then, I am compelled to reprimand you to prevent this kind of violation again. For if caught the second time around, you will receive the same penalty of ten times the value of the stolen scrap and jail time for three months. No more exceptions, kid. You will have to be penalized for both, the second time you are caught.

No worries, you won't crowd the prison."

Lance only smiled and did the transaction via his holographic net.

They say one would overhear policemen talking about confidential information being thrown at each other like it had no bearing. They had no regard for the label 'confidential'. The Officers liked to tend on rumors, well, they should be. They should know firsthand what was happening within their area for them to anticipate any ensuing dangers.

"Have you heard of deaths in Steelpoint? The Government covered it." A female police Desker opened up. "It was a week ago."

"Leric covered it," one Desker responded.

"If it's murder then they should broadcast it," another Desker responded. They halted with everything they did as a rumor was tossed in the air.

"Who died?"

"Three of them, SHF."

"SHF? Who are they?"

"Special Homeland Forces. Secret force of the Government. They say they are designed to flush out the rebels."

"That's new. SHF, this is the first time I heard of them."

"Yes. Leric started the group a week ago."

"Leric of the Border Defense?"

"Full sweep, rumors floated. I knew someone at his office."