Reality Cheques

[Jimothy]

Chapter 5 - Upping the Stakes

Tyler walked into the Canterbury bar, smart shoes clanging on the metal floor as he walked. He pulled up a stool at the bar and ordered a pint of Scrumpy, a cider that he’d been drinking since before he was technically old enough. He reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out his handheld neural net interface unit and a credit card, swiping the card for the drink and powering on his handheld. He began typing out a quick message to his customer on Kensington, sure that he already knew about the commotion, but to apologise for the delay none-the-less. Tyler finished the last of his drink as he finished his message, and returned the handheld to his pocket. He lifted his glass, signalling the bartender for another, and finally relaxed to enjoy it.
“Tough day huh? Shoulda been in here twen'y minutes ago, all hell broke loose outside!” The bartender leaned on the bar and nodded toward the window, slowly turning a glass over in a cloth in his hand. “Shame about the Austell, heck, now her crew were some characters, always the way though.”
Lifting his gaze to meet the barman, Tyler smirked. “Hmpf, I was out there, came in from Cambridge just as that Transport left here. Saw the whole damned thing.” His smirk turned to a respectful smile for those lost. “My condolences if they were friends of yours.”
At this, the man raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Hmm, now you surprise me kiddo, I’d reckoned you were far to dressed up for a space farer.” He turned and reached behind the bar for a bottle and a pair of shot glasses before pouring the pair some whiskey. “T’ name’s Sam.”
“Tyler,” he responded as Sam returned the bottle and raised a glass.
“To poor sods like Becki and Greg who risk it out there and don’t got your luck.” The two toasted and drank. “Heh, or style neither, that’s some fine suit, what yah do kiddo?”

Tyler sat and chatted with Sam for a while, rapidly getting caught up in the flow of the bar as the day drew to a close and the station’s day shift clocked off and flocked in. He sat chatting to groups of them at the bar as they came in, all knowing each other. Tyler blended in well, and as the Dublin races were beginning on the monitors, he got to chatting with the mechanics in the station’s equipment dealership about the races, and betting drinks on them. Bowex ‘special delivery team’ slaughtered by the IMG chariots, and the Liberty Eagles thrashed the Bounty Hunter interceptors. By the last race, the big bets were rolling, and Tyler was slowly raising the stakes with a large man called Carl. What started as a pint here and a shot there escalated to the looser footing the winner’s bill, and not to be outdone, Tyler pushed it one higher.

The local, Carl, full of friendly competitive spirit, and other spirits too, knew that his friends would think no less of him, but stuck to his guns and went with it anyways. The big bet was on the BAF’s own Red Arrows’ against the Hood’s neigh-unbeatable Dexter’s Midnight Runners. With Tyler backing the Red Arrows, the entire bar was holding it’s breath in anticipation as the first few laps went neck and neck, just mere microns between the ships. Then things took a turn for the worse, the Arrows began to slowly fall behind and struggled to keep up with the Runners’ superior staying power. As they fell further and further behind, almost as much as a whole ring between them, things looked grim for Tyler. Carl smiled at him and offered his hand to shake.
“You play tough Ty, had me worried there.” He said, grasping Tyler’s hand with both of his and shaking it firmly.
Tyler smiled and laughed, placing his hand across his forehead as Carl released it. “Ah, yah win some and lose some, drink up mate, it won’t happen again”
Suddenly, with seconds left in the race, a huge gasp rang out from everyone in the bar and everything went silent save the race commentator. Tyler and Carl both snapped their views back to the monitor and stared wide-eyed just in time to see the Runners’ ship missing a ring. The commentary began to say something but was drowned out by the bar’s ecstatic cheering as the Red Arrow shot through the final ring.

A shocked Carl laughed and hung his head in pretence at shame, before turning to Tyler and wrapping a large arm around his shoulder. He said something, but was drowned out by the bar full of his friends cheering and laughing. Sam was right beside them behind the bar beaming from ear to ear, already eagerly pouring Tyler the first of what was going to add up to a huge bill for Carl, as the bet was paying for everyone’s drinks for the night.

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I was formerly know as Spiritar.

It's been a while.