By day she filed brief after brief, compliance work for one tech consultancy or another. Double-checking the contracts that nobody else had even read. Her coworkers called her Naomi, polished, efficient, and discreet.
At lunch she passed downtown banners and slogans, glowing across the towers
STAY WEIRD™ - Official Partner of MetaSouth Energy
Authentic Music, Curated by Streamwave
A Brighter Future in Austin™
Once in a while, she’d see a faith overlay bleeding through, aimed at suburban shoppers visiting South Congress - KEEP PURE, KEEP STRONG. The city lived with both, but branding won here. Weirdness as product. Commoditized and embalmed.
At night she could lace her skates in a warehouse in Buda. A crumbling property barely even on the maps anymore. A banked track groaning under wheels, patched up with tape, and more than a few hopeful prayers. Humming sodium lights. A rookie posted at the door looking out for drones.
The second of two whistles shrieked, she surged toward the pack.
Dropping low, thighs burning, lungs burning, bodies ahead of her. Wheels screaming against the hardwood. An elbow dug into her ribs. She got shoved up high on the curve, higher than she’d like, but she spun…slammed hard…eked out a lead. She grinned, ignoring a stinging shoulder, pushed harder. Clear track to barrel into.
Skate fast.
She wasn’t Naomi here. She was bruises and sweat. Velocity, agility, and grit. Minutes where there was nothing but speed and collisions. A rush of bodies, the tilt of the track, a hammering in her chest. Bruises to blossom later.
Outside, a few miles north, Austin was selling its trademarked version of weird.
Inside the warehouse, they skated to forget.
A story from the Static Drift universe.
This is for Sacralicious