No matter, anyway, for commerce in the shadow of the city’s innumerable regulations had brought them together, for this 20 minute trip, as voluntary associates. Any ideological disputes or national conflicts set behind them in the name of a transaction that benefited them both.
The river crossing was thick with police, both civilian and military. The driver relaxed his posture and handed over his permits casually to the uniformed teenager who demanded to know their business. “We’re cousins,” he said lazily, and Lux leaned over to nod his agreement.
Probably the boy checking the permit knew less about national origins than did Lux, and he waved the pair through. Two turns of clogged traffic - police cars, cabs, bikes – and into the old West Bank district. They pulled before a block of towers overlooking the bend in the river: Seven Corners, the oldest, most derelict, urban block in the district. Massive, rectangular, mixed-use structures, connected by a web of skyways that crisscrossed like neuro pathways between synapses.
Lux scanned in a 700 amero charge to a paychip and passed it to the driver, who verified the balance and nodded his thanks to Lux.
In all, the co-travelers had exchanged six words.
***
“Welcome to NeuroSys.” That had been the greeting of Lux’s employer, Nels J. Hansson; according to the plate outside his office the Division Controller of NeuroSys Finance and Reporting. “I hope you enjoyed the trip up the river.”