That Fresh New Sound of 90s Retro Going Down
Scudding clouds paint grey streaks across the pale blue sky. Trees sway and bend in the breeze. Her ankle length black raincoat billows as she strides confidently along the Midline, glass and steel rising all around, threatening to swallow the heavens. She’s gloriously out of place, clad head to toe in black, gliding past teenagers in shorts and hoodies and women shivering their sundresses.
It’s the kind of rare Spring day that reminds her of when the world still had seasons and subtlety.
An impossibly handsome guy turns onto the ‘line and they exchange a flicker of noticing. She’s not a head-turner in a stereotypically bombshell way, but she’s athletic and her body makes you look twice if you’re into that sort of thing.
The sky darkens behind the grey and she opens up her stride, not quite breaking into a jog but taking full advantage of her legs.
Up ahead, a couple of teenagers on skateboards are trying to land some complicated trick against one of the circular concrete benches that dot the 'line in strategic locations. She slows as she gets closer. The girl almost gets it, but spills at the last second, slamming into the ground, cursing violently. One of the guys laughs conciliatorily and helps her up. The other guy takes his turn and slams in exactly the same way and the three of them laugh together.
She pretends not to notice the other guy scanning her up and down, grinning to herself. At least 15 years too young and she knows he’d be checking out her ass if not for the billowing coat. It’s weird being checked out by possibly-not-even-legal young men - a cheap thrill that they even notice her - but it always reminds her of how little she fits in with men her age. She thinks about the flicker of attention from impossibly handsome guy and part of her wants to turn around.
The wind slows, the sky a swirl of impending doom, and this time she does break into a jog. A single drop of water slaps into her cheek. She rolls her eyes upward as another and then another hit the concrete around her feet.
The wind kicks back up, the air tasting cold and ionized as she pushes on.
Up ahead, bridges connect the 'line to the middle stories of a couple of giant buildings and she makes a beeline for the leftmost one. The rain is a persistent drizzle now, annoying but barely registering, like it showed up for work because it had to and doesn’t intend to get anything done.
The door opens and she steps inside. They made some effort in this part of the building, the foyer brightly lit, the toughened glass of the virtual greeter wall glowing in soft faux neon.
“Greetings, Amy!”
“Jarvis.”
The assistant shifted its voice, announcing in a higher-pitched, softer tone:
“You’ve got mail!”
“Jarvis! You know I hate it when you say it like that!”
Jarvis chuckled and was suddenly gone as she cleared the space heading for the elevators, the assistant switching personalities to an irritating Texan that she’d heard booming out before.
The elevator opened and she stepped inside with a few other random people, eventually arriving on her floor. By now the rain had firmly set in, the lightning backlighting some of the taller buildings across the street. She was lucky up here on this side of the building: the land somewhere far below was still protected space under the Greenspace and Access to Natural Lighting Act.
If you looked down on this part of the city from far above, you’d see the Midline and Crossline corridors, walkways suspended mid-way up a series of colossal buildings. The Midline ran North/South, the Crossline East/West, and for some reason, everyone called the former the 'line and the latter the cross. Somebody once told her that was a leftover fear of “mid” being confused with average or boring from slang that was contemporary around the time the original section was constructed, but she didn’t believe them.
Fanning out from this giant cross, the buildings clustered densely, making efficient use of the space, but disrupting the light and views and traffic as they swallowed infrastructure on the surface. Hence the Act being passed as a response to this development.
A particularly explosive clap of thunder jolted her out of her musings, and she nodded to herself. A nice hot shower did sound good.