Devon was fifteen minutes away from being homeless, all because of a hat. The hat was part of his Convention costume—a leather hunter’s hat with a hawk’s feather sticking out from the brim. It took him three months' worth of paychecks for that hat, custom made and fitted. It was his hat, worthy of a hunter, and along with his hunter’s vest, it was a piece of work that Devon could finally be proud of. So, of course, his sister Neveah had to steal it. She wasn’t even sneaky about it. Neveah didn’t have to be, since Devon’s room had no door—only a sad, thin sheet of fabric. Nothing prevented Neveah from waltzing into his room at her pleasure and snatching up his hat. “Neveah! What the hell is wrong with you?” From down the hall came the hoarse cry of Momma, “Devon! Don’t you talk like that to your sister!” Devon grit his teeth, calming himself with a firm bite on his lip, and stormed out into the apartment hall, towards the kitchen at the end of the hallway. There sat Momma at a

Devon stormed down the street, fuming, his thoughts in a chaotic blur of rage. Summer heat roasted his skin, worsening his already boiling temper. His precious hat, the hat that he had given up his family for, smelled like the seat of an old school bus parked in a scorching sun. He kept the hat on out of sheer spite, despite the sweat pouring down his nose. Truly, Devons costume was not made for city heat—it was a hunter’s costume, meant for cool forests and the shade of trees with easy access to babbling brooks and the like. Had he given himself more time, he would have changed into something more appropriate—gym shorts and a basketball shirt, maybe—so he wouldn’t have to talk to the convention sweating himself dry. Already, Devon was beginning to regret his choices. Down the street from his house was the 712 bus line that would bring him out to the New Hudson Convention Center. He pulled out his phone and opened up HighStreet Maps. NHCC was on the other side of the city from

Success! Sure enough, the trusty 712 bus had just turned a corner and began its long-awaited journey to the station. Devon’s heart swelled with relief. While Jaxton was busy arguing with Steve, Devon made a break for the bus. He started off at a brisk walk, hoping that he could get on the bus without anyone noticing .Devon only got about half way before hearing from behind: “…ACK HERE, I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU, YOU FEATHER-HATTED FUCK!” Behind Devon came the sound of pounding feet and an incensed Jaxton tearing after him, phone in hand, still recording. Devon made a break for it, sprinting as fast as he could back towards the bus station. Some new riders had gathered at the stop to watch, a few of them secretly recording on their own. But Devon didn’t care—the sooner he could get on the bus, the sooner this stupid idiocy would be over. As the bus pulled closer, Devon noticed the front of the bus was adorned with a black “pill” affixed above the driver’s seat. Behind the steering

Jaxton leaned with his shoulder and burst through the doors, which gave way with a cracking squeak. There was a flurry of gasps from the riders. A few of them took out their phones and recorded as Jaxton tried to storm his way down the aisle towards where Devon sat. Another alarm went up from the bus: “ATTENTION—NON-STANDARD ENTRY DETECTED. PLEASE SCAN BUS PASS AND PANDEMIC PREVENTION CODE. ATTENTION—” Some of the riders closer to the driver’s side covered their ears to stifle out the terrible grating alarm. Why did it have to be so loud? “Will someone shut that damn thing off?” “It’s an automated system, yelling isn’t going to fix anything!” “YOU’RE A FUCKING AUTOMATED SYSTEM!” “Oy…so early, all this shouting is…that’s what I get for taking the bus.” Noise upon shouting upon noise. The bus driver pawed at a few buttons at the control panel and managed to shut off the alarms and the announcements, but the passengers were now in a thoroughly soured mood. Meanwhile, middle-a

Devon sniffed and wiped at his nose. “Sorry,” he said. “Allergies, I think.” “Mm-hmm. ‘Allergies’.” Carla pulled out a few tissues from her bag. “Very convenient that you men get allergies when you talk about your feelings.” She smiled knowingly. “Now look, whatever’s going on with you and your family ain’t gonna get solved in the span of one bus ride—ooh, and speaking of which, my stop is coming up soon. Here’s what I want you to do—add my contact info, and if you ever find yourself in trouble or you need someone to talk to, I want you to add me, understand?” Devon smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.” “Oh, don’t call me that!” Carla gave Devon a gentle slap on the arm. “I’ll be your auntie from now on—and I’m serious. You find yourself in trouble, you give me a holler, you hear me?” “I will Miss Carla… I mean Auntie.” They exchanged contact info with a scan of their QR codes. Devon looked at Carla’s profile photo—it was of her in smart-looking business attire, her arms crossed, and a great, co