Morning light snapped on—zero to full illumination in 0.4 seconds. No gradual sunrise, just another binary state change. Kai stared at his housing unit ceiling, counting microfractures in the rendering where cost-saving algorithms had skimped on detail resolution.

  His interface pinged with the day's first notification, materializing in his peripheral vision:

  [SYSTEM STATUS: KAI REEVES]

  Energy: 92% (Optimal)

  Contract Status: Active (MidCorp Financial)

  Current Balance: 63 Credits

  Pending Deliveries: 5

  Five deliveries meant seventy-five potential credits. Another drop in the bucket toward those skates that kept sliding through his dreams like digital ghosts.

  The CMO visit still hung in his thoughts—the contractor dragged away for asking questions about system boundaries, the casual brutality of contract extensions, the fear permeating every downcast face in that waiting room.

  He pulled on his Nova Express uniform—a jacket that digitally refreshed itself every morning regardless of how he'd treated it the day before. Another reminder that nothing here truly belonged to him, not even the wear patterns on his clothes.

  The dispatch center hummed with morning activity when he arrived. Runners clustered around assignment terminals, comparing routes with the grim determination of soldiers reviewing battle plans.

  The dispatcher barely looked up when he approached. "Reeves. Five packages today. Commercial district."

  "Standard rates?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

  "Fifteen credits per delivery. Performance bonus for beating estimated times by more than ten percent." She pushed a stack of small packages across the counter. "Don't lose them."

  Outside, Server Nova's perpetual twilight stretched above the city grid. He checked his mapping interface, plotting the most efficient route through the commercial district. First two deliveries clustered in the northern sector—high-end boutiques catering to wealthy citizens. Next three spread across the eastern quadrant, final package destined for an entertainment venue.

  He set out at a steady jog, packages secure in his delivery bag. His mind calculated split times and corner approaches automatically—old habits from physical-world messenger days. Take the cut through the service alley, avoid the main plaza during rush hour, use the elevated walkway to bypass the congested intersection at Wilson and 4th.

  The commercial district buzzed with morning activity. Digital storefronts shifted their displays to capture attention, advertising algorithms tracking eye movements and adjusting pitches accordingly. Citizens with premium avatars browsed luxury goods, their customized appearances clearly indicating status—gold-flecked skin, pattern-shifting clothing, features enhanced beyond physical-world genetic constraints.

  His first delivery went to a high-end fashion boutique called Digital Couture, where mannequins changed appearance based on whoever looked at them, reflecting the viewer's avatar with enhanced styling. The shop assistant's smile vanished when she saw his Nova Express uniform, clearly disappointed he wasn't a paying customer.

  "Package for Madame Verisign," he said, presenting the delivery.

  The assistant sniffed. "One moment." She disappeared into the back, returning with a woman whose avatar had been crafted with obsessive attention to detail—skin containing actual depth, hair moving with physics beyond standard rendering, eyes reflecting light in ways suggesting additional rendering passes normal users didn't receive.

  "Finally," she said, accepting the package without acknowledging him further. A perfunctory fifteen credits transferred to his account.

  The second delivery followed a similar pattern—another luxury retailer, another dismissive interaction, another fifteen credits added to his pitiful balance.

  As he headed toward his third destination, a notification popped into his field of vision:

  [NOVA EXPRESS PERSONNEL ALERT]

  Performance review scheduled at 13:30

  Report to Supervisor Hayes, Office 12

  Great. A performance review after less than two weeks. Either doing something right or something very wrong. Given his luck in Server Nova so far, optimism seemed unwarranted.

  He finished his morning deliveries with twelve minutes to spare on the estimated time—not enough for performance bonus, but respectable efficiency. He ducked into a food court for a quick break before his review, buying syntho-coffee with five precious credits. The stuff tasted exactly like real coffee, which was the problem—his brain knew this body didn't need caffeine, yet the programmed memory response still delivered the expected jolt.

  Office 12 turned out to be a small, windowless cube where Supervisor Hayes monitored delivery metrics across multiple screens. He was an older avatar, designed with deliberate imperfections—crow's feet around the eyes, slightly receding hairline, subtle signs of someone projecting experience and authority.

  "Reeves," he said as Kai entered. "Delivery metrics for your first two weeks."

  He gestured at a screen, and Kai's stats appeared—routes taken, time stamps, customer satisfaction ratings.

  "Your efficiency curve is unusual," Hayes noted, highlighting a graph showing delivery times steadily decreasing. "Most new uploads take at least a month to optimize routes this effectively."

  "I was a bike messenger before upload," Kai explained. "Route optimization is second nature."

  Hayes nodded, as if confirming something already suspected. "It shows. Your time improvements are currently twelve percent above the standard learning curve." He turned to face Kai. "Nova Express values efficiency. The Commercial District coordinator has requested you for a special route package."

  Kai's eyebrows rose. "Special route?"

  "Higher priority deliveries, more complex navigation requirements. Standard rate is twenty credits per package rather than fifteen." Hayes pulled up a new screen. "Potential for performance bonuses up to fifty percent on each delivery if time parameters are exceeded."

  The math was simple—more credits per delivery meant faster accumulation toward skates. But there had to be a catch.

  "What's the downside?"

  Hayes almost smiled. "Perceptive. The special route requires additional security clearance, which means more system monitoring of your movements. And higher-priority packages come with stricter penalties for failure."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning if you lose a package or miss a time window, penalties are deducted directly from your accumulated credits. Repeated failures result in contract notations." Hayes studied him. "But someone with your optimization skills shouldn't have those problems."

  Kai weighed the options. More system monitoring meant less freedom to explore unofficial paths, but the increased pay rate could significantly accelerate his timeline.

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  "When would I start?"

  "Immediately. Three packages this afternoon on the new route." Hayes transferred the assignment to Kai's interface. "Don't make me regret the recommendation, Reeves."

  His afternoon deliveries took him through unfamiliar commercial district areas—upscale corporate offices, private clubs with invisible exclusivity barriers, a digital art gallery where each piece cost more credits than he'd earn in a month.

  The packages themselves were different too—security protocols visible on their surfaces, weight parameters deliberately manipulated to ensure couriers couldn't forget they were carrying them.

  At his second stop—a corporate law firm specializing in digital property rights—Kai encountered a different class of user. The receiving agent wore an avatar that screamed old money—perfectly rendered but deliberately understated, the digital equivalent of hand-stitched clothing that only the truly wealthy recognize as expensive.

  "Nova Express, priority delivery for Jenkins & Associates," Kai announced, presenting the package.

  The agent assessed him with a quick flick of his eyes. "You're new. Where's Dravid?"

  "Don't know. I was just assigned the route today."

  He accepted the package with visible reluctance. "Ensure your management knows we prefer consistent personnel for our deliveries. Security concerns."

  "I'll pass that along," Kai lied, knowing perfectly well Nova Express couldn't care less about client preferences for debt contractors.

  The final delivery took him to the Entertainment District's edge—a sprawling complex of digital pleasure centers designed to separate users from their credits through increasingly elaborate simulations. As he approached, the environmental rendering shifted subtly, colors becoming more vibrant, lighting effects drawing attention to venue entrances and special attractions.

  His destination was a nightclub called The Recursion—a high-end establishment where even the exterior pulsed with expensive light effects that would strain rendering budgets in lower-tier districts. The entrance was guarded by bouncers whose avatars had been modified with intimidation enhancements—broader shoulders, subtly exaggerated musculature, eyes tracking with predatory sharpness.

  "Delivery for management," Kai said, approaching the main entrance.

  "Service entrance," one bouncer replied, not bothering to look at him twice. He gestured toward an unmarked door around the corner.

  The service area revealed Server Nova's entertainment machine's unglamorous backend—staff with basic avatars and tired expressions, rendering quality noticeably lower than in public-facing spaces, storage areas filled with digital props and spare environment components.

  A harried-looking manager accepted the package with minimal acknowledgment, barely waiting for transfer confirmation before disappearing back into what appeared to be a control room where environment parameters were being adjusted in real-time.

  With official deliveries complete and a solid twenty-seven credits added to his balance, Kai found himself with an hour of free time before needing to return to Nova Express for check-out procedures. Rather than heading straight back, curiosity pulled him toward the main entertainment plaza just outside The Recursion.

  The plaza assaulted his senses—holographic advertisements stretched hundreds of feet high, sound designs shifted based on user proximity, ground surfaces rippled with interactive lighting patterns. Citizens with premium accounts engaged with elaborate simulations costing more for ten minutes than he earned in a day.

  What caught his attention was a designated recreation zone near the plaza's center. Users had gathered to watch some kind of performance or competition. He drifted closer, threading through the crowd until he could see what had drawn their interest.

  A group of skaters performed on a dynamic course—surfaces that shifted and reconfigured, obstacles appearing and disappearing at random intervals. But the course didn't hold his attention; their movement through it did.

  Their skates left light trails as they carved impossible turns, jumped heights defying standard physics, ground along rails too narrow to support them. One skater in particular stood out—moving with confidence suggesting intimate familiarity with the system's physical rules and exactly how far they could be bent. Their avatar featured subtle customizations—circuit patterns pulsing with exertion, clothing textures responding to movement in ways standard rendering didn't allow.

  Kai analyzed their techniques almost unconsciously—weight distributions during turns, jump timing, precise approach angles to each obstacle. It reminded him of plotting courier routes, but with an additional dimension of freedom he hadn't experienced since arriving in Server Nova.

  "Nice, right?" said a woman's voice beside him. He turned to find another observer.

  Dark, chin-length hair seemed to absorb light around her face, a few strands carrying a faint, almost subliminal cyan data-stream pattern, only visible when she moved her head just so. Startlingly pale grey eyes, the irises overlaid with a subtle, shifting geometric pattern, met his.

  Sharp features gave her an intense, piercing look, though a wry, knowing smile often quirked her lips, revealing a flash of what looked like polished chrome on a canine tooth.

  The avatar was lean, movements economical and almost unnervingly silent—carefully crafted yet deliberately casual, like expensive clothing designed to appear worn-in. Complementing this, an animated jacket displayed fractal patterns that constantly evolved across the fabric, each iteration more complex than the last—definitely not standard-issue customization.

  "I've never seen movement like that in here," Kai admitted.

  She studied him for a moment, eyes flicking to his Nova Express uniform. "Corporate runner, huh? How's the grid treating you?"

  "It's a living. Or whatever passes for one in here."

  "Mmm." She nodded toward the skaters. "You're watching them different than most spectators. Breaking down the techniques instead of just enjoying the show."

  Kai shrugged, uncomfortable with her assessment. "Old habits. I used to race bikes."

  "Physical-world courier," she said, not a question but a statement. "Thought so. You've got the eyes for it—always calculating the next move, the fastest path, the cleanest line." She extended a hand. "Proxy."

  "Kai."

  "How long you been at Nova Express, Kai?"

  "About a week or so."

  She let out a low whistle. "And already on priority routes? Moving up fast." When he looked surprised, she tapped the security protocol still visible on his delivery bag. "P-class packages. Not usually given to fresh uploads."

  "They said they liked my efficiency."

  "I bet they did." Proxy's smile held genuine amusement. "Corps love finding uploads with natural aptitude. Means they can extract maximum value before you burn out."

  Kai bristled slightly. "I'm not planning on burning out."

  "Nobody is. But running the same routes, day after day, under constant system monitoring?" She shook her head. "There's more to movement in Server Nova than corporate pathways."

  She gestured toward the skaters. "Those users aren't just performing. They're exploring what's possible when you stop thinking like an upload and start thinking like code in motion."

  Kai watched as the skater he'd been studying executed a perfect aerial rotation, briefly inverting completely before landing seamlessly back into a high-speed run. For a split second, his muscles tensed with phantom memory—leaning into a sharp turn on his bike, calculating wind resistance and surface grip, finding the perfect line through chaotic traffic.

  "I should get back," he said, suddenly aware he'd been watching longer than intended.

  "Sure thing, runner." Proxy studied him for another moment. "But when you get tired of plodding along corporate routes while others are flying..." She pressed something into his hand—a small data card with an address in the Neon District. "Come find us."

  The card felt strangely substantial against his skin, its edges somehow sharper than perfectly rendered corners of standard Server Nova items. Someone had modified its properties, defying system standardization protocols.

  "What is this place?" Kai asked.

  Proxy was already turning away, jacket patterns swirling with subtle intensity. "A different perspective," she called over her shoulder. "For those who want to see what movement really means in here."

  Kai slipped the card into his pocket, its weight seeming heavier than size warranted. Maybe just another scam targeting fresh uploads, trying to separate him from meager credits. Maybe something more.

  Either way, as he headed back toward Nova Express checkout, he kept seeing those skaters in his mind—the freedom in their movement, transforming Server Nova's rigid architecture into a playground rather than a prison.

  The address on the card nagged at him, a persistent thought that refused to fade as he completed checkout procedures and headed back to his cramped housing unit. His balance for the day: 102 credits.

  A decent improvement over previous days, but still a long road ahead.

  He pulled out the card again, studying its unusual properties. The Neon District wasn't technically restricted for his contract level, but it had a reputation—system glitches, unauthorized modifications, users who preferred to operate in the Server's gray areas.

  The kind of place where opportunities might exist that weren't strictly system-sanctioned.

  Kai tucked the card back into his pocket.

  Tomorrow, maybe. After his shift. Just to see what Proxy was talking about. Just to satisfy his curiosity about those skaters and how they moved.

  Just to glimpse something beyond the narrow path his contract had laid out for him.