Duke of Two Cities

Chapter 5

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 wheel sat a driver only half pretending to drive, but mostly reading the paper magazine on his lap.

Devon groaned. It was a self-driving bus.

Self driving vehicles were proof that there was no technological advance that humanity could not suck devoid of all wonder and joy. Thanks to safety concerns and a series of high-profile accidents before Devon’s time, self driving vehicles had been regulated into over-cautious, over-priced carriages that crawled along limited routes at speeds no faster than 30km per hour. But the software was cheap, and economies of scale made them stupidly easy to build and operate. Much to the annoyance of the general public, self driving buses were here to stay.

Down the street came the pounding feet of Jaxton, his face taut with naked aggression.

Swearing, Devon picked up his knees and sprinted as fast as he could, gym bag cradled in his arms like an American football. For a moment, it was almost like being back in highschool P.E. Devon’s feet pounded the pavement, gym bag flapping in the wind created by his own power. Behind him, Jaxton continued to run, panting, swearing in between breaths.

Tump-tump-tump-tump

Devon smiled—it had been years since he played a sport, but he still had the power in him. It didn’t take him long before he made it to the bus station. One middle-aged lady clapped in admiration.

“Oooh, mama, take a bow! That was some display, mmm—mmm!”

Devon smiled sheepishly, sweat dripping down his face. One of the other passengers snorted.

“Feh! Don’t know what the big rush is, looks like we’ll be waiting here for two more hours at this rate.”

Sluggish and excruciatingly slow, the bus trundled towards to the station. The passengers eagerly queued up while the bus gently sauntered along with all the urgency of a mid-90’s dial-up internet connection.

“Come on,” Devon muttered under his breath. “Move, goddamnit, move!”

Finally, the bus pulled up to the demarcated spot at the stop. An automated voice, better suited to a circus than a public bus, announced with bombastic pride:

“DOORS WILL OPEN. PLEASE STAND BACK. DOORS WILL OPEN. PLEASE STAND BACK.”

The doors did not open. One of the other passengers, impatient to get on, had stepped over the curb and was one foot in the street. The bus yelled at him until the middle-aged lady gently pulled him back over the curb.

“PLEASE SCAN BUS PASS AND PANDEMIC PREVENTION CODE”

The passengers grumbled in a flurry of mild swearing—the bus pass and pandemic codes were in two separate apps, each which needed constant updates and acceptance of a privacy policy that was constantly changing and yet so dense and complicated that nobody could read it. Between opening each app, accepting the new privacy policy, and scanning the code, each passenger took between 5-10 seconds, depending on if they had accepted the new policy beforehand. These were all precious seconds that Devon, third in line for the bus, couldn’t afford to lose.

First went the older gentleman. He fumbled with the pandemic prevention app, swearing under his breath.

From down the street called a now out-of-breath Jaxton, “Get back here…fucking…feather hat…koff kahuff… I’m not done with you!”

Next was the middle aged woman. She went to scan her own pass, but stopped.

“I think your friend over there is upset about something,” she said to Devon.

“Yeah, a bit,” Devon said hurriedly. His heart beat in his chest. If the line didn’t start moving soon, Jaxton would reach the line, and then—

—the middle aged woman gently pushed Devon in front of her.

“I think you need to get on the bus a bit faster than I do,” she said with a raised eyebrow.