Infinity + 1 Chapter 4

 

Infinity + 1 Chapter 4

Neo-Urbana, 2233

The city stretches across the horizon like a graveyard of glass and steel. Quiet, futuristic buildings rise from the barren landscape, their sleek surfaces reflecting the pale light of a sun struggling to pierce the ever-present fog. The air is thick with mist, and silence reigns, broken only by the occasional whisper of a breeze. It is a city that has forgotten how to breathe, a place where the hum of machinery has replaced the pulse of life.  

From the garbage hatch of one such building, a racer pod bursts forth, its round saucer-like design cutting through the fog like a blade. The pod zips across the industrial route, its pilot a man with tan skin and a small black pencil goatee—a rarity in a world where facial hair has become as obsolete as handwritten letters. His name is Rayzn, and he is currently the most wanted man in Neo-Urbana.  

Behind him, police pods emerge from the fog, their sirens silent but their intent clear. They are relentless, their pursuit as cold and mechanical as the city itself. Rayzn’s brain-computer interface, known as The Menu, crackles to life as the police come through on the radio.  

“Rayzn,” a voice intones, devoid of emotion, “cease your escape and return to your designated corporate sector. Compliance is mandatory.”  

Rayzn smirks, his fingers dancing across the pod’s controls. “Mandatory, huh? Sorry, officers, but I don’t belong in jail. I’m an artist. And artists don’t do compliance.”  

The police don’t respond. They don’t need to. Their pods surge forward, closing the gap. Rayzn’s pod weaves through the empty industrial route, palm trees blurring past as the sun finally breaks through the fog, casting the city in an eerie golden light. 

The police pods were relentless, their sleek, angular designs cutting through the fog like sharks through murky water. Rayzn’s racer pod, a round saucer with a matte black finish, darted through the industrial route with the agility of a hunted animal. The palm trees lining the road blurred into streaks of green as the sun finally burned through the mist, casting long shadows across the empty landscape.  

Rayzn’s fingers danced across the controls, his movements precise but frantic. The Menu, his brain-computer interface, projected a holographic map of the city grid in his mind’s eye. Red dots—representing the police pods—closed in from all sides.  

“You’re not making this easy, are you?” Rayzn muttered to himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  

The police radio crackled in his head again, the voice calm and mechanical. “Rayzn, you are in violation of Corporate Protocol 7-42. Cease your escape immediately.”  

“Oh, come on,” Rayzn shot back, swerving to avoid a low-flying drone. “You guys really need to update your scripts. ‘Cease your escape’? That’s so 2232.”  

The police didn’t respond. Instead, one of the pods fired a pulse beam, the energy crackling as it narrowly missed Rayzn’s vehicle. The beam struck a palm tree, reducing it to a smoldering stump.  

“Okay, okay,” Rayzn said, his tone mockingly defensive. “No need to get touchy.”  

He slammed the controls, sending his pod into a sharp dive beneath an overpass. The police pods followed, their movements synchronized and eerily precise. Rayzn’s pod skimmed the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust as it shot out the other side.  

The industrial route gave way to a series of towering warehouses, their surfaces reflecting the sunlight like mirrors. Rayzn’s pod weaved between them, the police close behind. One of the pods attempted to cut him off, but Rayzn executed a barrel roll, his pod spinning like a coin before righting itself.  

“Nice try,” he said, grinning. “But you’ll have to do better than that.”  

The police responded by deploying a swarm of micro-drones, each no larger than a fist. The drones buzzed around Rayzn’s pod like angry insects, their tiny pulse guns firing in rapid succession. Rayzn cursed, his pod jerking as one of the shots grazed its hull.  

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he muttered, activating a hidden feature on his pod.  

The underside of the pod opened, releasing a cloud of metallic chaff. The drones faltered, their sensors overwhelmed by the interference. Rayzn took advantage of the chaos, his pod shooting forward like a bullet.  

The police pods, however, were undeterred. They plowed through the chaff, their advanced systems filtering out the noise. One of the pods fired a grappling hook, the cable whipping through the air like a snake. Rayzn barely dodged it, the hook embedding itself in a warehouse wall instead.  

“You guys are really committed to this whole ‘law and order’ thing, huh?” Rayzn said, his voice tinged with both admiration and annoyance.  

He glanced at the map in his mind, searching for an escape route. The industrial zone was a maze, but Rayzn had spent years exploring its every corner. He spotted a narrow alley between two warehouses and veered toward it, his pod scraping against the walls as it squeezed through.  

The police pods, too large to follow, were forced to go around. Rayzn emerged on the other side, his pod shooting out into a wide-open plaza. The plaza was deserted, its fountain dry and its benches empty. Rayzn’s pod skidded across the cracked pavement, sending up a spray of dust.  

The police pods reappeared moments later, their lights flashing as they closed in. Rayzn’s pod raced across the plaza, its engines whining under the strain. He could feel the heat building in the controls, the pod pushed to its limits.  

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, patting the dashboard. “Just a little farther.”  

The plaza ended abruptly, giving way to a steep drop into a canal. Rayzn didn’t hesitate. He gunned the engines, his pod launching off the edge and soaring through the air. For a moment, he was weightless, the world around him a blur of sky and water.  

The pod hit the canal with a splash, its hull skimming the surface before shooting forward. The police pods followed, their advanced systems allowing them to navigate the water with ease. Rayzn’s pod weaved through the canal, its wake sending ripples across the stagnant water.  

The canal led to a series of tunnels, their entrances dark and foreboding. Rayzn’s pod plunged into one, the darkness swallowing it whole. The police pods hesitated, their sensors struggling to penetrate the gloom.  

Inside the tunnel, Rayzn activated his pod’s cloaking device, its surface blending seamlessly with the shadows. He slowed to a crawl, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The police pods entered the tunnel, their lights cutting through the darkness like lasers.  

Rayzn held his breath, his pod hovering silently in the shadows. The police pods passed by, their sensors scanning the tunnel but finding nothing. Rayzn waited until they were out of sight before reactivating his engines, his pod shooting out of the tunnel and into the sunlight.  

The canal opened up into a wide river, its surface dotted with floating gardens and luxury pods. Rayzn’s pod skimmed the water, its cloaking device still active. He could see the police pods in the distance, their lights flashing as they searched for him.  

“Too slow,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.  

He guided his pod toward the shore, where a park for the elite stretched out like a green oasis. The park was filled with floating vehicle pods, their occupants oblivious to the chaos unfolding just beyond the trees. Rayzn’s pod emerged from the water, its cloaking device deactivating as it touched down on the grass.  

He took a moment to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The Menu flickered in his mind, the map showing the police pods still searching the canal. Rayzn allowed himself a small laugh, the sound tinged with relief.  

“Not bad,” he said, patting the dashboard again. “Not bad at all.”  

The police don’t respond. They don’t need to. Rayzn’s pod weaves through the eerie park reserved for the elite. Here, the rich float in their vehicle pods, their lives as carefully curated as the perfectly manicured lawns below. Among them is Evelyn Vale, the celebrity actress and pop icon, her face streaked with tears as she sits beside her government-assigned counselor.  

The counselor, a man with the demeanor of a glorified babysitter, drones on in a tone that suggests he’s recited this speech a thousand times. “Evelyn, you must remember that you are still rich. You still hold power. The incident with Incognito was unfortunate, but you are safe now. Quentin Santiago III’s sacrifice ensured that.”  

Evelyn’s voice is barely a whisper. “He died for me. And for what? To recover the body of some 21st-century author? What does any of it even mean?”  

“Well, well,” Rayzn said, his tone playful. “Looks like the day just got more interesting.”  

 He guided his pod toward Evelyn’s, his pulse gun already in hand. The police were still searching the canal, but Rayzn knew it wouldn’t be long before they realized he’d given them the slip. He had to move fast.  

As his pod pulled up alongside Evelyn’s, Rayzn activated the docking mechanism, the two vehicles locking together with a soft click. He stepped through the hatch, his pulse gun trained on Evelyn and her counselor.  

“Ladies and gentleman,” he announced, his voice dripping with charm. “This is a kidnapping. Please remain calm, or I’ll be forced to make this awkward for everyone.”  

The counselor sneered, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “How dare you cause trouble for a purebred nobleman with the blood of an American!”  

Rayzn blinked. “An American? What’s that? Some kind of rich snooty descendant of Neo-Urbanians?”  

The counselor sputtered, but Evelyn cut him off. “Who are you?”  

“Rayzn,” he replied, tipping an imaginary hat. “Artist, fugitive, and now your chauffeur. Pleasure to meet you.”  

The moment Rayzn stepped into Evelyn’s floating pod, the air thickened with tension. Evelyn sat frozen, her tear-streaked face a mask of shock, while her government-assigned counselor—a man whose entire demeanor screamed “entitled bureaucrat”—puffed up like an indignant peacock.  

“How dare you!” the counselor spat, his voice shrill and nasally. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? I am a purebred nobleman, a descendant of the great American bloodline! You are nothing but a common criminal, a stain on the fabric of Neo-Urbana!”  

Rayzn raised an eyebrow, his pulse gun steady in his hand. “An American, huh? Let me guess—that’s some kind of ancient rich people club? Like, ‘Oh no, my great-great-grandpa owned a yacht, so now I get to be insufferable for all eternity’?”  

The counselor’s face turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his neon green suit. “You insolent fool! The Americans were the architects of modern civilization! They built empires, forged nations, and—”  

“And probably invented the concept of overpriced avocado toast,” Rayzn interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Look, buddy, I don’t care if your ancestors invented gravity. Right now, you’re in my pod, and I’m holding the gun. So how about you take a seat, shut up, and let the adults talk?”  

Evelyn stifled a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. The counselor, however, looked like he was about to combust.  

“You—you—you barbarian!” he spluttered. “You have no respect for tradition, for heritage, for the natural order of things! You’re a corporate slave, a cog in the machine, and yet you dare to defy your betters?”  

Rayzn leaned against the pod’s console, his grin widening. “Oh, I’m defying my betters, am I? That’s funny, because last I checked, my ‘betters’ were the ones chasing me with pulse guns and drones. Seems like I’m doing just fine without their oh-so-valuable guidance.”  

The counselor’s nostrils flared. “You’re a disgrace to Neo-Urbana! A blight on society! You don’t even have the decency to shave properly!”  

Rayzn touched his goatee, feigning offense. “Wow, low blow. You know, in a world where everyone looks like they were cloned from the same boring template, I like to think of my facial hair as a statement. A rebellion against the tyranny of smooth chins everywhere.”  

“A rebellion?” the counselor sneered. “You’re a delusional fool. You’re not an artist, you’re a nuisance. A parasite!”  

“And yet,” Rayzn said, gesturing to the pulse gun, “this parasite is the one holding the weapon. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”  

The counselor opened his mouth to retort, but Rayzn cut him off. “Look, I get it. You’re upset because your cushy little world got flipped upside down. But here’s the thing: I don’t care. You can insult me all you want, call me names, question my life choices—but at the end of the day, I’m the one flying this pod, and you’re the one about to take a very unplanned exit.”  

The counselor’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”  

Rayzn smirked. “Oh, you’ll see.”  

With that, he grabbed the counselor by the collar and shoved him toward the pod’s hatch. The man flailed, his arms windmilling as he tried to regain his balance.  

“You can’t do this!” the counselor screeched. “I’ll have you arrested! I’ll have you executed! I’ll—”  

His words were cut off as Rayzn opened the hatch and, with a well-placed kick, sent the counselor tumbling out into the open air. The man’s scream echoed as he plummeted toward the ground, his neon green suit a bright spot against the dull landscape.  

Rayzn closed the hatch and turned to Evelyn, who was staring at him with a mixture of horror and amusement.  

“What?” he said, shrugging. “I told him to shut up.”  

Evelyn shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re insane.”  

“Maybe,” Rayzn replied, his grin returning. “But at least I’m not boring.”  

Evelyn screams. “You just killed him!”  

“Nah,” Rayzn says, glancing over his shoulder. “That cliff’s not that high. He’ll live. Probably.”  

The pod shot forward, leaving the counselor’s indignant squawking far behind.  

As the pod rockets into a clearing, Rayzn’s Menu flickers. 

A figure materializes in his mind’s eye—a man with tan skin and a Blackbeard, his appearance so strikingly similar to Rayzn’s that it’s almost unsettling.  

“What the—” Rayzn starts, his voice trembling. “Who are you? Some kind of alien?”  

The figure shakes his head. “Name’s Ramon ATILA. 21st-century author. And you… you’re just like me. This is freaky.”  

Rayzn’s eyes widen. “You’re a ghost?”  

“Not exactly,” Ramon replies. “More like a digital echo. But enough about me. You’ve got cops on your tail, and I’m here to help.”  

The police pods were relentless, their sleek forms cutting through the air like blades. Rayzn’s racer pod darted through the labyrinthine streets of Neo-Urbana, its engines whining under the strain. The Menu, his brain-computer interface, projected a holographic map in his mind’s eye, the city’s grid a tangled web of glowing lines.  

“Take the next left,” came the voice of Ramon ATILA, the ghostly apparition in Rayzn’s Menu. His tone was a mix of urgency and amusement, as if he were both deeply invested in the outcome and thoroughly enjoying the chaos.  

“Left?” Rayzn shot back, swerving to avoid a low-flying drone. “That’s a dead end!”  

“Trust me,” Ramon said, his Blackbeard twitching as he smirked. “I’ve been navigating cities since before your great-great-grandparents were a glimmer in the milkman’s eye.”  

Rayzn groaned but obeyed, yanking the controls to the left. The pod shot into a narrow alley, its walls so close that the paint scraped off on either side. Behind them, the police pods hesitated, their bulk too wide to follow.  

“See?” Ramon said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Told you.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Rayzn muttered. “Don’t get cocky.”  

Evelyn, seated in the pod’s passenger area, watched the exchange with wide eyes. Her tears had dried, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. “Who… who are you talking to?” she asked, her voice trembling.  

Rayzn glanced at her, his grin returning. “Oh, just the ghost of a 21st-century author. No big deal.”  

Evelyn blinked. “A ghost?”  

“Not exactly,” Ramon interjected, his voice echoing in Rayzn’s mind. “Think of me as a digital echo. A very handsome, very intelligent digital echo.”  

Rayzn rolled his eyes. “He’s also insufferably full of himself.”  

The pod burst out of the alley and into a wide boulevard, the sun casting long shadows across the pavement. The police pods reappeared in the distance, their lights flashing as they closed in.  

“Alright, hotshot,” Rayzn said, his fingers dancing across the controls. “What’s next?”  

“Straight for two blocks, then a hard right,” Ramon instructed. “There’s a maintenance tunnel that’ll take us under the river.”  

Rayzn nodded, his pod shooting forward like a bullet. The police pods followed, their engines roaring as they gained ground.  

“They’re not giving up,” Evelyn said, her voice tinged with panic.  

“They never do,” Rayzn replied, his tone grim. “But neither do I.”  

The pod reached the end of the boulevard and took a hard right, its tires screeching against the pavement. The maintenance tunnel loomed ahead, its entrance dark and foreboding.  

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rayzn said, eyeing the tunnel. “That thing looks like it hasn’t been used in decades.”  

“It hasn’t,” Ramon admitted. “But it’s our best shot. Trust me.”  

Rayzn hesitated for a moment before gunning the engines, the pod shooting into the tunnel. The darkness swallowed them whole, the only light coming from the pod’s headlights.  

The police pods skidded to a halt at the tunnel’s entrance, their sensors struggling to penetrate the gloom.  

“They’re not following,” Evelyn said, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief.  

“Not yet,” Rayzn replied, his eyes fixed on the tunnel ahead. “But they’ll figure it out soon enough.”  

The pod raced through the tunnel, its headlights illuminating the cracked walls and rusted pipes. Ramon’s voice crackled in Rayzn’s mind, guiding him through the twists and turns.  

“Left here,” Ramon said. “Then straight for about half a mile.”  

Rayzn obeyed, his pod weaving through the narrow passage. The tunnel was a maze, its layout a relic of a bygone era.  

“How do you know all this?” Rayzn asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.  

“I used to write about cities like this,” Ramon replied. “Futuristic, dystopian, full of hidden secrets. Guess some things never change.”  

The pod emerged from the tunnel and into a massive underground chamber, its ceiling supported by towering columns. The chamber was filled with abandoned machinery, their surfaces covered in dust and rust.  

“Where are we?” Evelyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“Old maintenance hub,” Ramon explained. “Used to service the city’s infrastructure. Now it’s just a relic.”  

Rayzn guided the pod through the chamber, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The police pods were nowhere to be seen, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up.  

“We need to keep moving,” Ramon said, his tone urgent. “Head for the far side of the chamber. There’s an exit that’ll take us to the surface.”  

Rayzn nodded, his pod shooting forward. The chamber was vast, its walls lined with rusted pipes and crumbling concrete. The pod weaved through the debris, its engines echoing in the empty space.  

As they reached the far side of the chamber, Ramon’s voice crackled again. “There’s the exit. Take it slow—it’s a tight fit.”  

The exit was a narrow passage, its walls barely wide enough for the pod. Rayzn guided the vehicle through, his movements precise but frantic. The pod scraped against the walls, sending sparks flying.  

“Easy,” Ramon said, his voice calm. “You’re doing great.”  

The pod emerged from the passage and into a dimly lit street, the sun setting behind the towering buildings. The police pods were nowhere to be seen, their absence a welcome relief.  

Rayzn let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his hands trembling on the controls. “We did it,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.  

“For now,” Ramon replied, his tone cautious. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”  

Evelyn leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.  

Ramon’s ghostly figure appeared in Rayzn’s Menu, his Blackbeard and tan skin a mirror image of Rayzn’s own. “Name’s Ramon ATILA,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “21st-century author, digital echo, and now your guide through this mess.”  

Evelyn stared at him, her mouth agape. “You’re… you’re real?”  

“As real as it gets,” Ramon replied, his grin widening. “And speaking of reality, we need to talk.”  

Rayzn frowned. “About what?”  

Ramon’s expression turned serious. “I helped you escape. Now I want something in return.”  

Rayzn hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want?”  

Ramon leaned in, his ghostly form flickering. “I want you to go to the Earth Library and steal my body.”  

Evelyn gasped. “Your body? But it was just stolen by Incognito! Quentin died to recover it!”  

“Exactly,” Ramon said, his tone grim. “I don’t want to be in the Earth Library. I want you to steal it back.”  

Rayzn stared at him, his mind racing. “You want me to break into the most secure facility on the planet and steal a cryogenically frozen corpse? Are you insane?”  

Ramon grinned. “Probably. But you’re an artist, right? Think of it as your masterpiece.”  

The pod sped off into the horizon, the sun setting behind them as the city of Neo-Urbana faded into the distance. Somewhere in the fog, a counselor climbed out of a ditch, muttering about the indignity of it all. And in the depths of the Earth Library, a body waited, its fate now tied to a man who never asked for any of this.  

ATILA