Double Theft

The humid air of the Neo-Spire Commute Terminal hummed with the high-frequency whine of magnetic rails and ambient holographic ads. Kaelen adjusted the strap of his chest rig, double-checking his wrist-display. Two minutes until the hyper-tube arrived.

A sudden, hard collision knocked him sideways.

“Hey! Watch it—wait a minute!”

A tall man in a glowing synth-leather jacket slammed his hand onto Kaelen’s shoulder. His cybernetic iris flared blood-red.

“My biometric vault!” the man yelled, his voice carrying clearly across the packed platform. “You just dipped my jacket!”

Kaelen froze, raising his hands instantly. “What? No! I didn’t touch you, man. I was just standing here!”

“Don’t lie to me, you dirty dip!” The man aggressively reached into the outer pocket of Kaelen’s jacket and yanked out a sleek, silver credit-shield. He thrust it high in the air for the surrounding crowd to see. “Then what’s this doing in your coat?!”

Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Overhead, two automated security drones lowered on anti-grav rotors, their blue lenses scanning the scene and calculating threat levels.

Kaelen’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I—I swear, I’ve never seen that before! You bumped into me!”

A ‘concerned citizen’ wearing dark tinted goggles stepped out from the crowd, grabbing Kaelen’s arms from behind to restrain him. “Easy, mate,” the dark-goggled man murmured softly, pinning Kaelen’s shoulders while subtly patting him down. “Just let him take his property back. Don’t make the security drones deploy tethers.”

The accuser snatched his silver vault back, glaring with righteous fury. “Pathetic. People like you ruin this sector. If the tube wasn’t pulling up, I’d have the grid-wardens haul you in.”

Kaelen stammered, sweating under the glare of dozens of judgment-filled eyes. “I didn’t… I promise…”

“Whatever. I got my vault back,” the accuser growled, shoving Kaelen backward. “Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

The accuser turned on his heel and melted into the crowd. The “helpful” citizen gave Kaelen a sympathetic pat on the chest rig. “Rough luck, buddy. Get home safe,” he whispered, before vanishing into the throng as the train doors slid open.

Kaelen stood shivering on the platform, his breathing ragged. Relieved he hadn’t been arrested by the automated grid-police, he took a deep breath and reached down to secure his chest rig.

His hands met thin air.

Kaelen gasped, looking down. The magnetic latches on his rig had been sliced clean off. His custom quantum-deck—containing his biometric identity, life savings, and three years of encrypted work—was gone.

Farther down the platform, near the rear train car, the accuser casually tossed the silver credit-shield—a cheap decoy he’d planted in Kaelen’s pocket moments earlier—into a recycling chute.

Next to him, his partner flicked Kaelen’s stolen quantum-deck into the air, caught it smoothly, and stepped into the tube just as the doors sealed shut.

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