Even now I can still remember waking up and feeling like I was supposed to be the agent of change in the place I was trying my best not to change. Redline County had simply become too simple, the rules were set: 1. You rode a bicycle for transportation. 2. Gasoline-powered transportation was forbidden. 3. Anyone suspected of non-human energy-based transportation would be eradicated. These were the simple rules, we lived day to day riding Redline County using various bicycles. I can only explain the politics from my side of the story, so I will do my best to explain everything. There will be holes, missing sides to the story, and most likely an underlying angst and apathy towards those who supported the hybrid formation genetics research project (HFGRP) that occurred during the years of 2037 to 2039.
Redline County never had any direction or significant historic event to call it’s own. The landscape of the county was the only thing that really provided any substantial attraction. The rolling hills, rivers, lush green rocky cliff faces, and the connection of almost a fish-bone like infrastructure of the roads made it for a superb cycling destination. The weather conditions throughout the year, no snow or extreme heat made the place an ideal location for outdoor activities. The only thing about Redline County most residents never talked about was: no traffic lights, no gas stations, and no oversized parking lots. Everyone in Redline County rode a bicycle regardless if they liked it or not, it was an unwritten law.
I did not grow up in Redline County, I moved here a couple of years ago. It was simple; a friend offered me a job in a shop and I needed the money. There are only a few select jobs in the county that really need any attention. Most folks say the place runs itself, but I tend to disagree. Every town in Redline County has a handful of bicycle shops. So they say making it as a successful mechanic anywhere in Redline you can really pull in some coin. However there is a supersaturation of wrench-turning talent, and often there are not many problems with the rigs riding the asphalt. So basically I stay on top of things and do house calls to tend to a second or third bicycle that might not get ridden very often. I guess this is how I make ends meet, but to be honest; it is the social aspect of the job I like, the face-to-face interaction.
Today I needed to swing by a place and drop off some new tires and tubes. The old guy was still riding tubes and I didn’t blame him. I approached the house, an old brick and concrete box with a few windows and a flat roof. I knocked on the door and called out.
“Hey, Mr. Kales? You home?”
“Yeah, yeah – hold on a minute, I am coming.”
He approached the front door and unlocked the various things he had rigged to keep the outside, outside. Redline County wasn’t a dangerous place, but we all knew why Mr. Kales was so cautious. When the HFGRP folks came for someone they used force and it was never a thing of beauty. Raw, brutal, and unforgiving they took what they wanted and never gave a sign of warning. So when someone like me knocked on the door I was usually greeted with a smile.
“Rax, good to see you – how ya doing these days?”
“Same old vicious circle, trying to hunt down work that will pay the bills.”
“I hear ya, listen I need some slick tires for my old C’dale, can you help me out?”
“Yeah, I have a few at the shop, I can bring them over later this afternoon.”
“By the way, did you hear the news about the new rolling mandate in place as of next week?”
“No, what new mandate?”
“They are saying a blood test from all citizens will be required to continue to receive the *daily.”
“What? You gotta be kidding me – that is complete bullshit. How can they do that?”
“Sounds like the HRGRP folks are really grinding the gears, gonna be a bitch, a blood test…”
“Mr. Kales, thanks for the info – I will be around later this afternoon with the tires.”
This was just awful news. The *daily is basically enough money or food or some consumer tangible credit you were provided via the online system to make ends meet, to eat, to fix what needed to be fixed, or for some folks it was all they had. It wasn’t called the daily – the official name given to this manifest destiny policy was Basic Needs & Flow – BNF. Regardless of your job, everyone had access to the daily. If they were going to add a blood test to this protocol many folks would certainly raise hell.
I needed to return to the shop and touch base with Sayan. She would probably have more information or misinformation about this new thing. A beautiful day in Redline didn’t need this ugly mandate looming only a breath away. I was on my Ritchey Break-Away, probably the appropriate name for the moment – break away. I got on the bike and rode down the road – heading directly into town to get more information on this hearsay.