A low-flying motorbike whizzed past the streets.
Its body was painted with a grey-gold glaze, encircled with round light bands on the sides and wheel hubs, a common rental model of the Tron style. The bike glided nimbly through the traffic, skillfully avoiding obstacles and leaving behind a slender, flowing trail of light.
Lean leaned forward, precisely adjusting his posture and balance with the motorbike. Despite maintaining a stable speed of 60 mph throughout the journey, compared to the usual commuting speed of 160 mph in District 17, he felt as though he was moving through thick maple syrup, each second unbearably long.
Fortunately, only two blocks remained to East Coast Bay. Just as he prepared to accelerate and overtake, the emergency automatic brakes jolted him, the intense force freezing him in place.
Thank goodness my body can handle this. He couldn't help but reflect.
Quickly checking his body data to confirm no injuries, he then propped himself up from the seat, scanning the surroundings.
The electronic screen at the crossroads scrolled with a notification:
️Attention: Traffic control in progress on Arseno Road. Please follow the traffic signs and the newly planned detour...
The sudden traffic interruption affected both ground and aerial vehicles, causing anxious honking from surrounding cars and a backlog in the air, casting serpentine shadows on the street.
Removing his helmet, Lean's gaze swiftly swept the area, his mind calculating possible detour routes. Run there?
He looked at both sides of the street, where the relaxed atmosphere starkly contrasted with the tension on the roadway. Tourists seemed indifferent to the traffic chaos, strolling leisurely among ornately decorated rental shops, choosing from a variety of quirky gadgets ranging from tandem bicycles to air-cushion hoverboards, from portable dance machines to air umbrellas.
After a brief glance at the bustling streets, he immediately dismissed the idea, his gaze shifting to the staggered rooftops of the shops, extending to the edge of the block, seemingly offering a path... However, this thought was instantly erased — as a patrol officer, even if temporarily, he couldn't allow himself to take any actions that might breach the order.
As he hesitated momentarily, a 13 or 14-year-old boy suddenly burst out from a second-floor corner, wobbly riding a green glider, hovering high above the crowd.
Lean's gaze followed the boy, turning to the building behind him — Mirror Pouch Toy Store.
·
Inside the toy store, Lean felt a bit dizzy from the decor.
Mirrors in the center of the floor and ceiling reflected each other like a kaleidoscope, creating an endlessly rolling pattern of designs. In the middle of the store, a huge transparent whale swam slowly, its tail drawing a graceful trajectory in the air. Below it were displayed various models of celestial creatures, ranging from ancient species of billion-year-old planets to the latest finds in interstellar exploration.
Lean leaned against a counter shaped like a giant eye, waiting for the clerk to verify his identity.
The store buzzed with laughter and joy, children bursting with energy ran around. Some wore shimmering mascot costumes, others chased mini versions of the Osiris spacecraft. The corner inflatable pool was a children's paradise, teeming with thousands of dinosaur and lizard replicas. Wafts of coffee and floral tea scents drifted from the entrance, where the children's guardians gathered, chatting and laughing. Outside, replica nannies and domestic robots stood in orderly lines.
In this atmosphere of joy and innocence, Lean felt oddly uncomfortable.
This feeling was rare for him. Perhaps his presence in such a setting was too conspicuous, drawing too much attention; or maybe it was because he hadn't yet learned how to interact with human children.
Just then, a child ran up to him excitedly, tapping his leg, "Uncle! Uncle! Help me get that toy!"
"I'm not your uncle, little one," Lean smiled, declining politely, and turned away from the child's gaze.
The kid muttered, "You're so old, you're definitely an uncle, so silly!" and ran off, slightly annoyed.
Lean, at a loss for words, just shook his head gently. He refocused his attention on the main visual interface. Aside from the unusual task brief, there were no new updates, and his request for cross-district task coordination was still pending with a "Please Wait" status.
As a temporary member of the Order Patrol Team, he understood that requesting cross-district task coordination was not a standard procedure. His fingers swiped through the air lightly, and soon the conspicuous nightjar icon of Captain Huize appeared in his field of vision. The status below the icon indicated that the captain was still in a meeting, barring any real-time communication. All messages sent remained unchecked.
Lean took a deep breath, trying to relax his tense nerves.
Strictly speaking, this wasn't a mission he should be meddling in.
The treatment for On-2 type infections was usually straightforward: a blood analysis of the target organism followed by the use of biological minerals to directly absorb the Yodao from the organism's system... but that was under the assumption that certain images in the task brief didn't signify something more. For the first time as a healer, he felt an irresistible "professional duty" urging him to verify the situation on-site. If his analysis was correct, the current approach might pose unexpected risks.
He silently prayed he'd get there before the biological minerals were deployed.
That way, the situation might not be too dire.
·
In the antechamber of the sealed cabin, Ale, brimming with self-pride, hit the switch to remove his protective gear. The space, with its stark, unadorned off-white walls, felt as dry and hollow as a cocoon.
As he stepped in, a peculiar odor, a mix of burnt wiring and disinfectant, assailed his nose, causing Ale to cough lightly. Before entering the main cabin, he knew there were a series of procedures to be completed: identity verification, disinfection scanning, safety checks, and more.
The walls and ceiling revealed dense, pinhole-like perforations as the system initiated. Soon after, a hissing sound, accompanied by steam, filled the room.
A sudden sting at his ankle made Ale look down. There, climbing up his pant leg were two sand crabs, about the size of coins, brandishing their tiny pink claws as if in challenge.
Bending down carefully, he plucked the little intruders off, his lips curling into a light smile. "Oh, two little invaders. Caught you both," he said proudly, then, mimicking Captain Anmu's tone, he added, "Now, explain yourselves. How did you get in here?"
The crabs, as if understanding his words, ceased waving their claws and raised their eyestalks to meet his gaze.
In what should have been their dark, beady eyes, one now displayed a pattern of purple vines, while the other revealed a dense network of indigo lines.