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“Hoi! Chummer, you gettin’ out?” growled the dwarven driver, with a hint of nervousness.

“Huh?” I replied, with extreme wit.

“Corner of Broadway and East Galena.  Fifty nuyen.”

“Already? Sure,” I mumbled, and I swipe one of Byron’s cred sticks across the scanner, adding ten for a tip, not really sure how long we’d been sitting there.  “Thanks.”  I swung my long legs out of the beat up yellowbill, stepping onto the grimy sidewalk.

I paused on the sidewalk, really looking around the street for the first time in a long time, taking a deep breath to calm myself, and immediately gagged on the stench of an August night down by the river.  Technically, this is part of Downtown.  But really it’s one of those border areas where you are probably relatively safe, as long as you are moving on through to somewhere else.  Tonight though, its peaceful, with a half dozen Temple Security officers and drones on this block alone.  Down on the corner, I see a few of the Galena Gorillas.  They don’t really control much, maybe a five-block radius, and they aren’t harassing anybody right now.  I’ve paid my fees to keep ‘em out of my hair though, so fuck ‘em.

Sweat coats my neck, and it’s obviously too hot on this muggy August day to be wearing this leather duster, so I walk quickly down the street, passing several groups of small business wage slaves and their families scurrying down the street from the parking garage, headed to the new techno mall built around the corner a couple years ago.

I ignore them, even the gaggle of UI-Chicago students, out “slumming” Downtown.  Absently, I wonder what the hell excitement they think they are getting into, bunch of posers.  Normally, I’d flow into that crowd, and see how many of them I could peel off for a screaming dock, but, well, that’s not on the menu tonight.   Instead, I absently think about warning them to be careful, dressed like a bunch of fucking amateur joytoys.

I enter the wide stairs, walking slowly up to the fourth floor, running through all the possibilities about the meet.  What the drek am I going to say?  As I reach the top floor, I swipe my key on the access panel, not that it really fucking matters, half the time the damn thing doesn’t work.  I never really noticed before, but the mingling scents of kimchee, curry and sauerkraut really are quite overwhelming as I stand in front of 2401B.

My palms are clammy, yet I am sweating profusely.  Finally, I swipe the key panel with a trembling hand, blowing out a sigh, trying to calm myself.  You’d think I was getting ready to single-handedly take on a gang of hitmages.  Fuck me….I take a deep breath as I walk into my apartment to meet fate.