<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <head> <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> <title>My Story - Home</title> <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../stylesheet/bootstrap.css"> </head> <nav class="navbar navbar-inverse navbar-fixed-top"> <div class="container"> <div class="navbar-header"> <a class="navbar-brand">My Story</a> </div> <ul class="nav navbar-nav navbar-right"> <li> <a href="../index.html">Back to home</a> </li> <li> <a href="../contact.html">Contact</a> </li> </ul> </div> </nav> <body class="container"> <div class="row"> <div class="col-md-12 well"> <h1>Momentum</h1> <p>by Hannah Hunt</p> </div> <div class="col-md-12" > <p>Heat presses against you as you wander the crowded streets. Bodies shuffle this way and that, all shouting and shoving to get closer to the vendors at the edges of the crowd. You wipe a hand across your forehead and sigh. Today is going to be tough, and you are just getting started. Levi said he would be out here soon, that he would meet you on the corner of Renolli so you could finally get started working the streets. Only he is nowhere in sight. It is time to make a decision.</p> </div> <div class="col-md-12 well"> <h2>You start on your own.</h2> </div> <div class="col-md-12" > <p>You wriggle your way into the masses, your bag of silver thumping against your back as you navigate the glass streets. Solar panels hum beneath your shoes, adding to the buzz of voices as you near the center of the square. There is still no sign of your brother. You step forward as a fat man hobbles by and a silver necklace for trade falls from his pocket. You grab the necklace and...</p> </div> <div class="col-md-12 well"> <h2>Tuck it into your own bag.</h2> </div> <div class="col-md-12" > <p>It’ll be good to trade with later. Not to mention, the guy made your swipe easy. You keep slipping trinkets from people’s pockets as you go, but there’s one thing you would never trade from your bag. After a while you lean back against a wall in an alley and pull the old Italian Euro from your pocket, staring at Leonardo DaVinci’s Virtruvian Man embossed on the back. The old currency has been out of circulation for over a hundred years since the end of the last world war. People have resorted to trading their valuables, silver and gold necklaces, family pearls, and other small heirlooms when there aren’t enough reinz being coined to go around. Still. Mother’s always said that there’s a bit of luck to the old coin. So you stuff it back into your pocket and get back to the streets. After all, in your line of profession, you’ll take all the luck you can get. You walk on, stumbling and intentionally bumping into people to get a good look at their pockets. A thin politician runs into you, spilling her drink on your shirt. When she rears back, she screams, “You idiot! Watch where you’re going,” and shoves past you. You spot a nice set of pearls dangling from her wrist, and a small notebook that’s been left on the street.</p> </div> <div class="col-md-12 well"> <h2>Snatch the notebook and go after her</h2> </div> <div class="col-md-12" > <p>“Ma’am. Signorina,” you call, snatching the notebook from the ground. You want those pearls. "You dropped this. She turns and you shove the notebook into her palm, angling your hands so you can reach the wristlet. There’s a thin click as she examines the booklet with a scowl, and you sneak the bracelets into your back without her noticing. “This isn’t mine,” she says, shaking her head angrily before shoving it back at you. “I would have noticed if something had gone missing.” You nod, taking the book back and apologize for keeping her before turning back into the crowd. You make it to the next block before you hear her screaming. “Thief! That canga is a bloody thief! Catch her!” Your only option is clear. You run before the Service can get a good look at you. You slip past people, pulling more silver from their pockets as you go. If you’re going to be accused as a thief, then you might as well play the part. Service won’t listen to your side of things anyway. Syd’s certainly not going to hear you out. He’ll take his Service’s side over yours any day just so he can get on with his own plans for the evening. He’s probably looking forward to dinner served on gold platters. Eventually you lose the sound of Service boots in the distance, and you reach the bridge back to your home island of Venezia, the textile sector of the archipelago that makes up Cidy. Your bag three times heavier then it was when you started your work this evening. You’re exhausted by the time you make it to your floor of the Hourglass Tower in the center of the island. You kick at your door and the sheet of metal slides open to reveal your atrium-like living room. You scowl when you spot your older brother lying on the couch, a holoscreen in his hand with a videogame haloing his face in blue holograms. He sits upright when you drop your bag onto the floor and grins at you. “Hey, kiddo. How was your day?” You walk over and collapse beside him on the couch as your mother glances at you from where she’s cooking dinner on the stove. “Well?” Levi nudges you with his elbow. You roll your eyes. “Let me tell you....”</p> </div> <div class="col-md-12"> <h4> End. </h4> </div> <div class="col-md-12"> <h3> <a href="../storypath/start.html">Go back to start</a> </h3> </div> </div> </body> </html>