04 September 2043
Avira (12 years old)
I drop my schoolbag, quickly change my clothes, and run straight to his room. But it’s empty. I rush downstairs in search of Mama.
She’s in the study, speaking with the AI assistant.
“Mama, where is Zoan?” I blurt, interrupting her.
She pauses the AI and looks at me. “When did you come back?”
Standing from her chair, she steps toward me with a smile. “First eat something. Zo was in the garage.”
“I’ll eat later! First, I want tosee his new bike.”
Mama chuckles, shaking her head. “His new bike is only built for one person, so you won’t get any rides on it.”
I shake my head quickly. “No, Mama. He promised me last night that I’ll be the first person to sit on it.”
Mama sighs. “Alright, you can go and see. But come back fast.”
I nod eagerly and dash out of the mansion toward the garage on the left side. Its gate is open, that means he’s inside.
I step in and spot him immediately. My eyes light up, and I run toward him and his black bike.
“It’s so cool!” I exclaim, circling it like it’s some magical creature.
My hand runs over the seat. “But Mama said it doesn’t have a backseat.”
“I just attached one,” he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
I almost jump out of excitement. “That means we can go on a ride!”
He nods.
After putting the tools and equipment back in their places, he stands in front of me. “Did you eat?”
I shake my head.
“First, we’ll eat. I’ll change my clothes, and then we’ll go for a ride.”
I pout, crossing my arms. “Can’t we just go now?”
I’ve never sat on a bike before. I’ve been waiting for this ride since last night, and the anticipation is bubbling inside me like fireworks.
He shakes his head firmly. “No, Dove. First you will eat, only then we’ll go out.”
Zloban (17 years old)
I double-check the buckle of her helmet. It would be a lie to say I want her sitting behind me on this bike. Just the thought of her falling, of even a single scratch on her skin, is enough to keep me from letting her near any motorcycle. But she’s been waiting for this ride since last night, her excitement is overflowing. Denying her would only break her heart.
I start the engine. The deep growl vibrates through the garage, and immediately, her small arms wrap tightly around my waist. I roll the bike forward slowly, keeping the speed steady at barely twenty kilometers per hour.
She leans her head sideways, peeking at the speedometer. “Zoan, this is slower than a bicycle. What are you doing?”
Once we descend the hill, I twist the throttle slightly, letting the bike run at forty. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to go faster.
She digs her fingers into my stomach, or at least tries to. My muscles are too hard for her little pinch to have any effect.
