(Co-written with Patrick Morgan)
Sick.
That’s the speed he was going: the speed of pure sickness. The wheels of his board were nonexistent because he needed no wheels. His board glided down pavement like pure electricity gliding down something that was really good at conducting current. Like copper or some shit. No, not copper. Gold.
Moments later, Tom Cruiser arrived at the J-Mart, flipped his board onto his shoulder, and slicked his hair back with one hand.
One thousand dollar bills in hand, he entered the store. He needed pure board lube. The kind you wax on a board that needs no wheels. Because for Tom Cruiser, the speed of sickness is not quite fast enough.
“Greetings, valued customer,” said the J-Mart robot greeter, dressed in Como khaki slacks and a Fall-colored cardigan.
Tom Cruiser grunted at it, “I’m not a part of your system, man!”
He looked around the store for the lube. The kind he needed was expensive, but worth it if you didn’t want to be wasted on the pavement like some sucker who couldn’t keep up with the flow. Tom Cruiser didn’t want to know what that was like. He was the flow.
His pad told him they had the stuff in stock, but looking around he could already tell it was out. They had the right brand, but not the weight. This shit was a science.
He left the store.
“Good bye, valued customer.” The metal husk sounded sad.
Tom Cruiser jumped on his board, sending sparks flying across the turbo pavement. He was ready to rocket. Slipping the shades down from his forehead, he leaned down and accelerated his board to critical velocity. Wicked metallic lines blurred by him. At slower speeds, they’d look like cars and guard rails.
This was Tom Cruiser’s world. A world so fast that the edges were constantly blurred and the only things not moving were the dead things, and they didn’t matter anyway. There was no day and night. The cities in Cruiser’s world were landmarks made of light that was visible at any hour. It was a world Cruiser was comfortable in, and it was about to get shaken up in some wicked serious bad way.
That’s the speed he was going: the speed of pure sickness. The wheels of his board were nonexistent because he needed no wheels. His board glided down pavement like pure electricity gliding down something that was really good at conducting current. Like copper or some shit. No, not copper. Gold.
Moments later, Tom Cruiser arrived at the J-Mart, flipped his board onto his shoulder, and slicked his hair back with one hand.
One thousand dollar bills in hand, he entered the store. He needed pure board lube. The kind you wax on a board that needs no wheels. Because for Tom Cruiser, the speed of sickness is not quite fast enough.
“Greetings, valued customer,” said the J-Mart robot greeter, dressed in Como khaki slacks and a Fall-colored cardigan.
Tom Cruiser grunted at it, “I’m not a part of your system, man!”
He looked around the store for the lube. The kind he needed was expensive, but worth it if you didn’t want to be wasted on the pavement like some sucker who couldn’t keep up with the flow. Tom Cruiser didn’t want to know what that was like. He was the flow.
His pad told him they had the stuff in stock, but looking around he could already tell it was out. They had the right brand, but not the weight. This shit was a science.
He left the store.
“Good bye, valued customer.” The metal husk sounded sad.
Tom Cruiser jumped on his board, sending sparks flying across the turbo pavement. He was ready to rocket. Slipping the shades down from his forehead, he leaned down and accelerated his board to critical velocity. Wicked metallic lines blurred by him. At slower speeds, they’d look like cars and guard rails.
This was Tom Cruiser’s world. A world so fast that the edges were constantly blurred and the only things not moving were the dead things, and they didn’t matter anyway. There was no day and night. The cities in Cruiser’s world were landmarks made of light that was visible at any hour. It was a world Cruiser was comfortable in, and it was about to get shaken up in some wicked serious bad way.
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