Detbitinis Autobusos Terminalas — 1.39

He leaned back, the data-cube finally going cold in his hand. At Terminal 1.39, getting lost was the only way to be found.

"That's a heavy load for such a small pocket, kid," the Scrapper rasped, his voice a mechanical grind. Kaelen didn't look up. "Just waiting for the 404." DETBITINIS AUTOBUSOS TERMINALAS 1.39

"The 404 doesn't go anywhere," the man laughed. "That’s why they call it the Void." He leaned back, the data-cube finally going cold in his hand

Kaelen sat on a bench made of recycled polymer, watching the "ghost buses"—autonomous, translucent pods—glide into their docking bays. Terminal 1.39 was the lowest level of the central hub, a place where the air tasted like ozone and burnt rubber, and the passengers were mostly those trying to disappear. Kaelen didn't look up

The Scrapper lunged. Kaelen was faster. He vaulted over the bench, his boots clattering against the metal grating. He dived through the closing doors of the 404 just as the Scrapper’s metal fingers scraped against the glass.

The overhead display flickered.

Kaelen clutched a small, vibrating data-cube in his pocket. It was the only thing he’d managed to pull from the mainframe before the sirens started. He wasn't supposed to be here. In the upper tiers, the buses were gold-plated and ran on sunlight. Down here at 1.39, they ran on desperation and old code.