Jerusalem Time
By thobey
Jerusalem Time
Author: thobey@gmail.com
The insistent shrill of the landline sliced through the cabin's musty silence. Rick Jerusalem, a man swallowed by a beard that hadn't seen scissors in years, flinched. He hadn't heard that sound in what felt like a lifetime. He muttered to himself, a string of barely audible curses, before reluctantly picking up the receiver.
"Jerusalem," he grumbled.
A voice, crisp and impatient, crackled through the line. "Rick, Dexter Gordon. Vertex Publishing. Two books, remember? The contract? Ringing any bells?"
Rick sighed, the weight of forgotten obligations settling on his shoulders. "Dexter. What a pleasant surprise." He knew what was coming. He owed Vertex, big time.
"Time to pay up, Rick. San Francisco. Next week. Don't be late." The line went dead. Rick stared at the receiver, then out at his mountain sanctuary. He was going to San Francisco. 2035. He shuddered. He'd heard the stories. The Transients. The chrome. The madness.
Rick slammed the receiver back onto the cradle, the cheap plastic protesting with a dull thud. San Francisco. He ran a hand through his tangled beard, scattering crumbs of what he'd laughingly called breakfast. He had a week. A week to pack up the last vestiges of his shattered life, a week to prepare for the neon-drenched nightmare that awaited him. He started towards his meager wardrobe, a collection of moth-eaten sweaters and patched-up jeans, the scent of pine needles and regret clinging to the fibers.
Before he could even pack, the cabin's door was kicked open, the flimsy wood splintering under the force. A squad of Transients spilled into the room, their eyes glowing with a malicious crimson intensity, augmented optics burning like embers in the dim light. They were a motley crew of chrome and flesh, wires snaking from beneath their skin, faces scarred with the emblems of forgotten gangs. One, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a cybernetic arm that gleamed like polished obsidian, grinned, revealing teeth filed to sharp points.
Story Content
The insistent shrill of the landline sliced through the cabin's musty silence. Rick Jerusalem, a man swallowed by a beard that hadn't seen scissors in years, flinched. He hadn't heard that sound in what felt like a lifetime. He muttered to himself, a string of barely audible curses, before reluctantly picking up the receiver.
"Jerusalem," he grumbled.
A voice, crisp and impatient, crackled through the line. "Rick, Dexter Gordon. Vertex Publishing. Two books, remember? The contract? Ringing any bells?"
Rick sighed, the weight of forgotten obligations settling on his shoulders. "Dexter. What a pleasant surprise." He knew what was coming. He owed Vertex, big time.
"Time to pay up, Rick. San Francisco. Next week. Don't be late." The line went dead. Rick stared at the receiver, then out at his mountain sanctuary. He was going to San Francisco. 2035. He shuddered. He'd heard the stories. The Transients. The chrome. The madness.
Rick slammed the receiver back onto the cradle, the cheap plastic protesting with a dull thud. San Francisco. He ran a hand through his tangled beard, scattering crumbs of what he'd laughingly called breakfast. He had a week. A week to pack up the last vestiges of his shattered life, a week to prepare for the neon-drenched nightmare that awaited him. He started towards his meager wardrobe, a collection of moth-eaten sweaters and patched-up jeans, the scent of pine needles and regret clinging to the fibers.
Before he could even pack, the cabin's door was kicked open, the flimsy wood splintering under the force. A squad of Transients spilled into the room, their eyes glowing with a malicious crimson intensity, augmented optics burning like embers in the dim light. They were a motley crew of chrome and flesh, wires snaking from beneath their skin, faces scarred with the emblems of forgotten gangs. One, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a cybernetic arm that gleamed like polished obsidian, grinned, revealing teeth filed to sharp points.
Synopsis
Rick Jerusalem, a reclusive detective drowning in debt, is summoned to a dystopian San Francisco. Amidst the city's cybernetic chaos and shadowy Transients, he must navigate treacherous alliances and unravel a web of deceit to repay his dues. The future is bleak, and Rick's survival is anything but guaranteed.
