The acid rain had finally stopped. So they ventured out.

  Underneath the mighty tracks of the hyperrailer which stood dozens of meters above the ground, John and Amy trekked through the rancid mud and anti-bleached grass of the plains.

  Their digiphones turned off, the chips in their clothing crushed. It was cold, dark, miserable, and windy. But they needed to go towards the neopine. This is what Que told them to do .It was nice being amongst nature again. But it was also hard and saddening.

  The assault of the wind blew chilly, it was the dead of night. The ground was almost liquid, the two sinking ankle deep in the putrid mess that has become of nature.

  Their bags, heavy, filled with insurance for later. But nothing useful for now.

  A hyperrailer blitzed overhead, appearing and disappearing almost instantly.

  The sound was totally deafening, rocking the two and sending them stumbling into one of the rail supports. The two look at each other, regain their composure, and carry on.

  It took them quite a while to reach the neopine, but the time went by fast. Knowing what trees actually look like now, John cannot help but look at these things as bastard and commercialized

  The map Que made, scribbled on a piece of his wallpaper, indicated that once they reach the outer border of the neopine, they must go left towards the south.

  The border is easily seen by how unnaturally it transitions from plains to neopine, and so the two trek along it. The cover of the grids of neopine screens are about as useless as the rail cover.

  Amy takes a seat on one of the roots of a neopine, looking up into its screens with her head against the trunk. John stops and looks back to her.

  “C'mon. We need to keep going. He said we'll see the landmark where we need to stop.”

  He looks back to her, the horizon obscured by the deep red mist in the distance. The rain pelting him; his clothes, face and body as completely soaked as the tainted-soil they walk upon.

  “I can't.” She says, panting and aching. “It hurts too much. I can't keep carrying this stuff.”

  “You want me to carry it?” John yells over the wind. “No.” Amy replies, next-to-no rain getting on her in her little spot.

  “No more walking. Not right now. Just—” She runs out of breath. “—go on without me. I'll— I'll catch up with you soon.”

  John shakes his head. He turns back and walks to her, kneeling in the mud in front of her. “I'm not leaving you. Not if I can help it.”

  Amy replies, wheezy and breathless. “No, go— go on. It's okay. I've just got to— catch my breath for a minute— I’ll catch up soon.”

  John shakes his head again, another lighting bolt striking. He looks down and grabs her hand. “How about we tie your bags to my robot leg? They should be nice and light for it. And I'll carry you the rest of the way.”

  Looking down to her, her eyes remain closed. “No— n— no John. Ne— need rest.”

  He shakes his head again. He takes her bag off her back and wraps the straps tightly around his leg. He then puts his left arm under her legs, his other arm around her waist, lifting her up. “Don't worry. It's okay. You can rest.” He assures..

  The extra load is very noticeable, but his leg handled well and, luckily, Amy is only small. As he turns around to resume the rainy path, she taps his chest. “No… no rain.” She pleas.

  John obliges, staying on the other side of the neopines. The cybernetics were a blessing in disguise, he thinks. His right leg’s load feels no different to his left. Apart from that damned itch.

  His body, though hardened from his work, grows tired. His arms grow weak and his back hurts. He keeps moving. His paces slows and devolves into more of a controlled stumble. Yet he keeps going.

  But his body can only take so much, and before his leg buckles, he places Amy down gently on another root. He looks at the neopine as he collapses onto his back, looking at the screen and the roots pattern. He realizes it's the exact same as the previous one. Then he looks at another. And another. They're all exactly the same.

  John's body aches, particularly his back and arms. He looks out into the plains, and they look the exact same, as he looks back from whence they came; the tracks obscured by the thickening fog.

  “John?” Amy asks under the neopine.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Ugh, yeah?” John groans, facing up at the screens.

  “I think we made it.” She tells him. He looks over to her as she points to something along the treeline, something he didn't notice before.

  Looking like a T coming from the ground, it is almost like a cross, except with weird proportions. “Ugh, Que said someone would meet us here. I guess we'll just have to wait until they do.” Minutes pass. Minutes turn to hours. And Amy asks. “Are you sure we should've trusted him?”

  John answers. “No. I'm not sure at all.”

  John lay with his eyes closed trying to recover. Amy tried to stay alert but stationary.

  The lightning serves as a nice pace breaker, breaking up the constant monotony of the wind and rain. Occasionally, it would light up the sky in the distance.

  It was nice for what it was compared to the city. Nature was nice for what it was. But what it was was bad. So it wasn't really nice so much as a different shade of shit, she thought.

  Eventually, a silhouette appears through the rainfall. The brightness of the neopine made it hard to see into the darkness.

  “John, look. Something's coming.” Amy tells him. John opens his eyes and sits up geriatrically. As it gets closer, it appears to be a vehicle.

  It has an unknown badge on its grill, and it looked extremely old.

  It had no running lights and its tires were thick. It looked like a box on wheels, almost like it was designed to go off-road. A truly alien concept.

  Its door opens and the driver steps out, wearing nothing but a one-piece work suit. He was quite tall and his face was obscured by a bandanna.

  “Are you two John and Amy?” The man asks, his voice quite hoarse and croaky.

  John grunts in acknowledgment and Amy nods yes.

  “Alright then. You two can hop in the back. I know the basics of why you're here so you can spare me that. I'll answer any questions you two have. Now, hurry up. We don't have all day.”

  Amy raises to her feet, having regained some strength. John rolls over and gets back up, limping to the back seat of the vehicle. The engine was rather loud and unrefined, a minor vibrating coming from it even as it idled.

  They both close their doors, soaking the back seat as the rain pricked away at the steel roof.

  “I want to make one thing clear, this is not a charity.” The man tells them, reversing the vehicle before heading the same way he came.

  “I— we will help you, but we will need you both to help us. He will give you a place to stay but you cannot stay there all the time. We have places to go, things to do and people to meet. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Uh-huh.” John grunts. “Yes.” Says Amy.

  The man looks to the track. “Good. Good. So, do either of you have obligations elsewhere?” Amy speaks for John. “I don't. But he does. He works for a fulfillment center for… I think they're called Imbondeiro Shipping something something.”

  “Is that a job?” The man asks.

  “Well, sort of, not really though. It's to pay for his robot leg.”

  The man slams on the breaks, sending John into the seat in front of him as he didn't put a belt on. “Cybernetics?” The man asks, turning to face them in the back seats.

  “Agh! Fuck… yeah.” John says, now quite lucid.

  “You need to disable it. If it's new there should be a control panel on your inner thigh. Open it and unplug the green wire.” The man tells him, accelerating the car back up to speed.

  John undoes his jeans and pull them to his knees, finding the panel he spoke of.

  “I wish this thing came with a repair manual.”

  Amy can't help but look, and is surprised to see the defined musculature of his left leg. Nothing spectacular, but some clear areas of mass developing. She looks away as he pulls his jeans back up, feeling weird about having even looked.

  “God this feels weird.” John says. “It's like permanent pins and needles now.”

  The man looks in the rear-view mirror. “Get used to it John, you're gonna have to. Just so we're clear; no device made after 2050 unless you're in public. No talking about what is happening with anyone unless they're keen to join us, and no soliciting unless it's for intel. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes.” The two reply. “Alright. Get comfortable. This ride is going to take a while.” He tells them.

  John looks off into the endless expanse, lamenting what has been lost. He stares into the distant horizon, knowing that it's cut short by the unnatural rainfall. He listens to the rhythmic hum of the engine, wondering if there was ever a time on Earth where man was not.

  He realizes he's moping and tries to drop it. So he looks around the interior for distractions. He looks to Amy, who is staring out her window. He looks at the man who is focused on driving. He looks to the center console, seeing something which spikes his interest.

  “Excuse me?” He asks the man, who looks at him in the rear-view mirror. “That thing in the center console. It looks familiar. Can it play cassettes?”

  “That's right.” The man says. “By all means, chuck something in.”

  And so John pulls himself up, his leg now a dead weight. He leans over the center armrest and pulls a cassette out of the pocket of the bag in the front. On it is written “Mixtape.”

  He puts it in the machine which eats it up, a smile playing on his face at the prospect of this small victory. The idea of some reprieve and potential progress bringing him a minor, glowing warmth inside. A smile on Amy's face grows too, because she glimpsed a smile on his.