Sky Runner Read online

  Rissian felt the urge to say something provocative even stupid but with much difficulty refrained himself. He thought it completely unfair that other fast laps didn’t also get a mention, after all there were 15 other contestants in the class. Redmore turned his attention to the winner, his all time favourite student, who else but Kastian Blaze. “So Kas, we would all love to hear how you did it, talk us through the magic in motion.” Kastian patted his longish, overly groomed, shiny, blonde hair down, grinned smugly and began, almost congratulating himself, “Well, I started off in the usual way I do, being aggressive, really hitting the track with pure adrenalin. Then once I get comfortable in my zone, I try to hit the slip stream as much as possible. I keep the fire burning all the way to the end and with my total control over the Nav stick I never falter nor do I fail to impress. Suffice to say, the championship is in the bag.”

  Redmore beamed a delightful smile at Kastian, like he was peering at his long lost son. Rissian thought defiantly, what a load of rubbish. The truth is you’re just a rich kid who has the privilege of going to Mars every year for a supposed vacation when really you spend 3 straight months training on Red Canyon, Mars’ own version of the sky track. No wonder your better with the Nav stick than anyone else. It’s only because you can afford to be. Without realising Rissian had started mumbling and Redmore honed in like a hawk. “Is there something you wish to say mister Cardenia, why don’t you share it with the rest of the class, I’m sure it’s of the utmost importance.” Rissian shrugged his shoulders timidly, “No its nothing sir, don’t worry about it.” Redmore felt a wave of anger rise up to his chest, that little condescending critter, he thought to himself bitterly, “No I insist,” he retorted commandingly, his voice fiery and fierce.

  Rissian thought, to hell with it and blurted, “Not all of us have the privilege to train at Red Canyon, now do we. I mean all that extra track time, all that extra special time with the Nav stick is sure to iron out the kinks, if you see what I mean.” Redmore, Kastian and the whole class instantly became gravy offended. Redmore bit back relentlessly, “You have to qualify for Red Canyon you idiot and not every one can. Let’s take at look at your performance now shall we. Surprise, surprise, Rissian Cardenia, pink bar, third from last, best lap time a pathetic 5 minutes and 45 seconds. Well, what do you have to say for yourself, oh don’t tell me it’s because you never got to train at Red Canyon, son you wouldn’t even qualify.”

  Rissian Cardenia felt humiliated, but it wasn’t the first time. In his usual manner he let it go with the shrug o f his shoulders and conjured up a lame retort, just for good measure, “Are you sure I’m the pink bar because maybe you got it mixed up with red.” He laughed solely as the class remained quiet, unimpressed, their self righteous faces saying it all, saying that he wasn’t good enough to even be in their presence. Right now he could feel hurt but that good old voice at the back of mind telling him not to give a hoot was always playing like a stuck record and a stuck record he quite enjoyed listening too. Redmore became outraged, “Right I’ve had enough of your disrespect and condescension, get out. No more sim runs for you since you think you’re so good and why don’t you do yourself a favour and just fail to show up on the day of the race. Everyone expects it anyway and deep down so do you.”

  Rissian casually made his way out of Redmore’s class, people sniggering and commenting in the background, but the only thing on his mind was a cigarette and a cherry coke. He arrived at his favourite vending machine, the one near his favourite bench, punched in a cherry coke, happily waited for it to dispatch taking joy in that familiar clang, grabbed it wholeheartedly, opened it and took a great big gulp. With an “ah” he instantly felt better. Next he lit up a cigarette and loitered around for a moment, looking here and there and then noticed something stuck on a student’s pin-board. “Connecting To The Flow,” he said out loud as he read the heading to a little holo brochure. “That flow thing again, everyone think it’s mumbo jumbo but maybe it isn’t, maybe they’re all wrong because they always think they’re right,” he mumbled to himself, making sense in a semi rational manner.

  He continued reading the holo brochure out loud, “Come and see Mister Makasaki, 115 downtown New Miami to find out more and for cheap herbal remedies.” I’ve really got nothing better to do, why not, he thought positively.

  Chapter Five

  Rissian looked up to a yellow and green dim blinking neon holo sign that read, ‘Makasaki Remedies’ and with an element of curiosity walked into a small, quaint shop. He looked around briefly, the shop was littered with old books, Polynesian decorative ornaments and sets of bottled jars that looked a bit like magic potions. Even the smell of the shop was peculiar but nice in an organic type way, he thought. At the shop counter was an old Japanese looking man sleeping on a rocking chair. “Hello, Mister,” he said quietly but the man remained sleeping. Conveniently, there was a small bell which he rung twice. Abruptly, the man awoke. “Who’s their, go away, there’s no drugs here,” the man said rudely and then closed his eyes again, crossing his arms, drifting back to sleep. Rissian felt slightly frustrated and rung the bell several times now, the man awoke again but this time caught a glimpse of Rissian. Angrily he said, “Didn't I tell you kid, we don’t sell drugs here.”

  Rissian laughed, “I’m not looking for drugs.” The man seemed confused, slowly returning to his senses as he began to brew a pot of herbal tea, which smelled truly invigorating. “What do you want then?” He retorted, hastily. “I want to know about connecting to the flow,” Rissian answered, squarely and honestly. The man burst into a frenzy of laugher as he poured the herbal tea into a big yellow cup and began sipping it, steam rising into the air. “That’s a load of old mythical rubbish, go home kid. If you’re nervous you can try one of Makasaki’s ground yellow leaf and dried cherry liquid herbal supplements for only 13 credits.” Rissian momentarily wondered if he needed the herbal supplement and then decided to strike something of a deal. “I’ll get the herbal supplement if you tell me about connecting to the flow.”

  Mister Makasaki was a lonely old man, his wife had died many years ago from a tragic terminal illness and both of his children had ventured off world, to Mars and Jupiter. He looked at the young boy with father like eyes, remembering his sons for a moment. “Okay deal,” he said, well aware that business wasn’t exactly booming. Rissian smiled happily, purchased the herbal supplement which came in a small personalised yellow and green bag and attentively waited for Mister Makasaki to speak. “What do you want now?” he said, slumping back into his rocking chair like the world had just ended, nonchalantly sipping herbal tea. “Connecting to the flow?” Rissian reminded. Mister Makasaki thought, this kid is pretty determined, I better say something or else he’ll never leave my shop.

  “Connecting to the flow is like connecting to your feelings, be one with the universe and yourself and you can get rich, blah blah,” he began, staging a funny voice. Rissian glared at him, “Is that right.” Mister Makasaki chuckled, “Yes, absolutely right. Happy now?” Rissian on the verge of storming out vented, “You know you’re nothing but a con, my life is in chaos, I’m about to wind up flipping burgers and this flow shit is all I have left to hold onto and you’re making a mockery out of me. Thanks for the potion old man.” Suddenly, Mister Makasaki could sense an earnest honestly in the young boy which uncannily reminded him of himself many years ago. That raw passion, it was as powerful and as evident as the red sun over Japan. “Wait,” he declared. Rissian stopped in his tracks and rushed back over to the counter.

  “You really want to know, tell me why?” Makasaki asked, his voice different now, more mature and settled, aged and wise and nothing like the obnoxious and rude tone it carried initially. Rissian told him everything. Makasaki poured him an herbal tea and then began, his eyes reflective, his persona almost bordering on mediative, “The flow is the passion that flows through you and through all living things. It is a hunger, a desire, a purpose and sense of destiny that resides deep down in
side. It is a sense of purity, a sense of honesty and echoes with true emotion. Wholesome emotions of love, unity, understanding, peace, willingness and pride drive a person’s soul to be deeply connected with the flow whereas opposite emotions such as hate, anger, fear and shame simply cause a person to be separated from the flow. But you must first understand who you are and what you really want in order to align yourself with the flow, only you can answer that. Do you understand?”

  Rissian sipped the herbal tea, it was truly reviving and thought deeply about what Mister Makasaki was saying. “I understand some of it, but how will I ever know who I am or what I really want?” Makasaki delved into Rissian’s soul almost telepathically, his old weary eyes transient and glassy, like he was looking through a window into the future. “You are filled with fear, you believe in nothing because you expect disappointment and that is what is holding you back. That is why you can’t connect to the flow. But within you there is a fire that burns very bright and very strongly, only you use that fire destructively, as a means of self destruction. Let the fire within ignite your connection to the flow.”

  Chapter Six

  “Rissian, Rissian, get up, it’s nearly 9am and the race starts at 9:45am,” a smooth, mature, feminine voice rasped at the lazy Rissian who was still tucked under his duvet. “What’s going on, where’s Mister Makasaki? I was just talking to him a minute ago,” Rissian replied, seemingly bewildered, struggling to come to his senses. “Here’s a fresh cup of coffee, drink up and I’ll drive you to school because heaven knows you’ll be late otherwise and wishy wash goes your graduation,” his worrying mother answered speedily, like she had just had a few cups herself. Rissian got up, put on any old clothes, didn’t even bother combing his hair, gulped down the coffee like he was taking shots of Vodka and followed his mother to the car.

  The car fled off into the sky as mother patted down Rissian’s hair and adjusted his blue leather jacket collar, “Why are you wearing that thing? It’s terribly hot today.” Obliviously, Rissian repeated, “Where's Mister Makasaki?” Mother looked at him a shade perplexed, dawning an expression of slight worry, “Where is who darling?” Rissian huffed and puffed, “You know the old Japanese dude.” Mother shrugged her shoulders, notably a family habit, “I don’t know any Yamasaki darling, shouldn’t you be revising the sky track, you still have 30 minutes before the race begins.” Then it hit Rissian like a splash of cold water to the face, “Where's my free entry pass, shit, if I don’t have it they won’t let me enter the race and then I’m totally screwed.” Mother scorned at him, “Mind your language and is this what you’re looking for,” she replied, revealing the free entry pass from the glove compartment, of the car.

  Rissian grabbed it and kissed it sweetly, “There you are baby,” he chimed. Mother grinned, “Don't get too excited now dear, you’ve got to keep your head for the big race.” Rissian shrugged his shoulders in typical fashion, “Yeah the big race,” not such a big deal, he thought resistantly. Finally, the car swooped down into a designated landing bay, “Good luck and do your best,” mother said, her warm smile echoing with the brightness of the day. Rissian replied, with a moment’s honestly, “Mamma if I don’t win will it still be okay,” his eyes drooped down sombrely. “Of course it will, life still goes on even if you don’t graduate, but it’s not over yet, son.”

  Rissian waved his mother goodbye as the car fled off into the crimson and purple sky and then he scampered over to the starting grid. Where’s my air speeder? He thought urgently. Naively, he had not pre-selected one and now wasn’t even sure if he even had one. He rummaged around the starting grid profusely as contestants looked at him like he was crazy or on drugs or both even. Luckily, Joey was on assistance duties at the starting grid and noticed Rissian’s panic. She ran over to him, “What's up Rissian, you look totally out of it. Is it pre race jitters?” Rissian answered hurriedly, peering in all different directions at once, “No, no Joey, I can’t find my air speeder. Maybe I don’t have one, I don’t think I actually booked one. Damn it.” Joey jetted her eyes over to an outdated, yellow, green and brown air speeder that was mainly used for testing purposes and moved more like a cow than a horse.

  “Look Rissian, that one over there, I think it’s available,” Rissian looked at the old, primitive air speeder with familiar eyes but not in a good way, “you mean the hippy truck, no I can’t ride in that let alone win, I doubt if it even starts.” Final checks were being made and one of the track manager’s hurriedly sped toward Rissian. “It’s your call Rissian, it’s your life, but if you don’t get on the hippy truck right now, that fat guy walking toward you will suspend you from the race for failure in pre-selecting a race vehicle. Your choice?” Rissian cursed the gods and then cursed himself, stomached his pride and jumped on the hippy truck. Joey smiled at him, “Who knows maybe it’s a sign,” she said, warmly. Rissian shrugged his shoulders in expected fashion, started up the hippy truck, stuck a scribbled bit of paper to the dash to help him remember the Nav stick and aero gliders configurations and replied, “That's not what I’m worried about.”

  Chapter Seven

  Rissian had a terrible start, out of 20 racers he was stuck in 18th position, inches away from actually being last. Suffice to say he started in 17th position but soon lost ground due to his poor Nav stick handling abilities, demonstrating his sheer inability to balance the hippy truck and at the same time showing how just unresponsive the hippy truck actually was. He had just completed the second lap and was currently in zone 1 of the third, there were only 2 more laps remaining and the race would be concluded at the end of lap 5.

  “What should I Do?” Rissian mumbled to himself as he unsteadily climbed the sky track up to sky city. It was beautiful, the yellow and orange sun pierced sharply through bright, big and beautiful white clouds, the air was sweet and pure and a myriad of hovering and floating holo and promo streams streamed all kinds of weird and wonderful things; from latest sports wear to gravity boots and personalised air speeder bumpers. His eyes wondered aimlessly, utterly distracted, taking in the amazing view just the way water evaporates from the surface. Abruptly, From the corner of his eyes he could see number 19th, Macky McPhee on his tail, “No you don’t” he said viciously as he veered his air speeder in front to block his path. McPhee tried to swerve around but Rissian was too clever for that and simultaneously swerved round the same way, continuing to block his path and highly frustrated him. McPhee eventually gave up the chase and simply maintained his position.

  Now, a shred of confidence had entered Rissian’s mind, he was feeling pumped from the adrenalin rush. With that invigorating feeling he managed to climb several more positions, presently residing in 15th place. Faintly, through big, floating sky speakers he could hear the track commentator narrate, “Rissian Cardenia is not done yet, could this be the start of a comeback.” The commentator’s guest retorted, “Are you talking about the same Rissian Cardenia?” Rissian felt a touch angry and simply rode on the wave of emotion, quickly moving up another 3 places.

  Securely at 12th position Rissian raced through New Miami Beach, violet rays glaring in his eyes as he interweaved between beach party cruisers and little volley ball courts, skilfully adjusting his aero gliders to match speed. Finally I’m getting the hang of this, he thought positively, dawning a slight grin, but he couldn’t afford to get complacent. The frightening, big swooping right turn into downtown New Miami now approached, Rissian jetted back on the Nav stick slowing right down, became confused for a moment and set his aero gliders to flexi when really he ought to have set them on wide in order to easily ride the drag round the corner, somehow though he handled his air speeder and with great difficulty navigated the corner, but due to his mistake he had lost a position and seemed to be stuck at 13th.

  The 4th lap elapsed as quick as thunder and lightening and the distance between him and number 12th seemed be growing, in the hippy truck he simply wasn’t fast enough even at max speed. Accepting defeat suddenly he heard a voice in his hea
d, “Connect to the flow Rissian and use the slip stream, you can still win.” The voice was profoundly familiar, it was Mister Makasaki. How can this be? He thought to himself, in a semi state of bewilderment. I thought Mister Makasaki was only a dream, I thought the flow was only a dream. Mister Makasaki are you there? He thought, anxiously, but there was no response. Maybe this is something really weird or maybe this is destiny, he concluded in his mind. Whatever if was, he needed to give it a try, he was fresh out of all other options.

  Bumbling along downtown New Miami he said to himself, “I connect to the flow,” and clapped his hands. There didn’t seem to be any change. “I am one with the flow,” he continued, but again nothing had changed. He tried saying various combinations, but still nothing. And then he reflected back on his dream, the words of Makasaki came to him again, quietly and distantly, “You are filled with fear, you believe in nothing because you expect disappointment and that is what is holding you back. That is why you can’t connect to the flow. But within you there is a fire that burns very bright and very strongly, only you use that fire destructively, as a means of self destruction. Let the fire within ignite your connection to the flow.”