Load Up

Where today? Of late, all my journeys taken me to the obscure. I prayed no hill trolls though. They have a grip of adamantine and I’ve still the bruises on my shoulder. The coin drops, optics roll and in an edifying dizzy explosion of lament butterflies I burst through the next door.

Such noise. The screech of tyres erupts from the north and the streets are crammed with the legions of the bored craving for excitement. Digital lights pour electric illumination on all around and the scent of ramen and Japanese cuisine reminds me how empty my stomach is.

I’m the only European here. The locals look at me like the strange alien that I am. I guess it doesn’t help I’m still in the same attire from my last experience. I mean, how many elfin archers do you see in night time Shibuya?

I check my currency. Thank goodness they’ve transformed King Eowine’s coins to yen. I come to a street vendor who rolls his eyes when I tell him I’d like to order a big bowl of whatever it is. He holds out his hands, says something which I have no hope of understanding.

“Load language protocol” I say.

“You want large, regular or small he asks?”

“Regular, please.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

He gets to work, hands me a generous helping. I hand over a few notes. I don’t get change.

“What’s with all the commotion?” I ask.

“What, don’t they have newspapers where you from? It’s Hardmetal 2121. Fastest time wins , winner takes all.”

Japanese street racing. This is definitely a bit of me. I remember the Italian lightning challenge back in May. 1200 competitors and I got the prize. The credits more than generous.

“How do I sign up?”

He laughs, unimpressed with the pointed ears and quiver full of arrows. I really need to get to wardrobe.

“You think you have a chance? If you must, go to the end of fourth street, speak to Daitan. Save your money though, you won’t even make the first circuit.”

I finish my Ramen. I look left a store headlined Apparel. I head there and pull off my prosthetics. No way am I losing.