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· Reviewer/Tester
6,164 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
He saw her for the first time at the Dome. She was quite pretty, had long black hair, was small and tanned. At first, he didn't notice her because he was concentrating hard on his own riding, hitting the small drops and jumps to warm up his muscles before moving over to the Expert Level section.

The Dome was more crowded than usual. More riders were coming now as all the free-ride areas outside the city were closed off by the Goverment. There were Domes in every city. In some of the large city centres he had heard there were several Dome complexes.

Inside were different riding areas in each dome catering to all levels of riders from Beginner to Expert and Pro. He normally rode in the Expert section because he had earned his status over the past twelve months. He loved riding, especially getting big air off the high ramps.

Tonight was no different to any other night, except for one thing..............................

He had just finished his compulsory five laps and was towelling the sweat from his face and watching the other riders out on the course. Then, he saw her. She stood out from the other Dome riders for two reasons.

Firstly, she wore no armour. Just a helmet and fingerless gloves. Secondly, she could really ride. She had a unique flowing style that he had never seen before, and was getting great air off the big ramps. He found himself watching her as she circulated around the course, her moves were smooth, fast, and rad.

Later as he was drinking a gel at the cafe, he saw her again. She was being spoken to by a Dome Official. He guessed that it was about riding without the regulation armour. When the official left her, on a sudden impulse he stood and walked towards her. She was standing with a frown on her tanned face, looking down at the floor.

"Nice riding" he said to her, softly.

She lifted her head and regarded him with her dark brown eyes. Then, without a word, she turned and walked out of the cafe.

What the hell he thought..whats wrong with her? He shrugged and made his way to the shower block, showered down and then rode back to his dorm. On the way he found himself thinking about her again. There was something .... something.. elusive.. that attracted him to her. Maybe it was the way she looked, or the way she dressed, or the way she rode. Her style was different from everyone else he knew.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew that he wanted to see her again.

As he was hanging his ride on the bike hook assigned to him, she stepped out of the shadows and stood looking at him with her big dark eyes.

That was how it all started.........................................

He rode with her outside the city on real dirt trails. She showed him all the suburban free ride locations, the deserted half pipes and old tunnels that stretched for miles beneath the city. She knew all the prohibited trails outside the city limits, and they rode them all together. He spent all his free time with her, riding.

Then one warm night as they lay together on the sweet green grass after a wonderful ride on a closed and forbidden trail under the full moon, she told him all about herself. She told him how her father had taught her to ride, how they used to ride together before the Government had closed all the trails down. She told him how she had continued to ride out in the forbidden lands even after her dad had suddenly disappeared one day.

As they lay together in the soft grass, he suddenly found her in his arms, and they kissed.

The months passed swiftly. His riding had improved so much since he had started going out on the illegal closed trails. The Government told everyone that the trails were too dangerous for riding, but he knew now that that was a lie. His relationship with Steph had blossomed into love. They rode everywhere together.

However, his grades were suffering because of a lack of sleep. His Dorm Master had spoken to him very sternly just recently about his slipping grade marks. Somehow, it didn't matter to him any more. All he wanted to do was ride and be with Steph.

One afternoon, she took him to an old deserted cabin deep in the forest. Hidden under the floor was a basement. Steph disappeared into the blackness below. A minute later she emerged with a bike frame slung over her shoulder.

He had never seen anything like it before. It was a silvery grey colour, and incredibly light. Then she handed up a set of wheels to him. They were much larger than normal, and fitted with knobby tires he didn't recognise.

On the casing of the tires was printed: "WTB Exiwolf". The frame itself was unpainted. He examined it carefully in the afternoon sunlight. Printed on the downtube was the single word: MOOTS. It suddenly dawned on him that this was the rare and almost unobtainable Titanium metal that only the high Government officials were allowed access to.

Steph helped him to assemble all the parts to the frame. When it was done, he lifted it up in one hand. The whole bike weighed much less than the Government-issue frame that he had been riding. The Moots was too big for Steph, but fitted him perfectly.

He pedalled it slowly around the yard, amazed by the responsive feel and the way the bike moved under him. The big wheels rolled easily over the rocks and roots, and the bike accellerated so quickly when he pushed down hard on the pedals. It almost felt alive beneath his hands and feet.

He rode the bike every day. It had belonged to her father.

Together, they rode the trails and tracks, the rocks and logs, the pine-scented hills and old dirt roads. He was so happy. He was in love with Steph and had the best bike in the world.

Summer turned slowly to autumn. They rode through a soft carpet of russet coloured leaves, the only sounds were the soft rustle of the treads on the leafy covering. They stood together and watched as the sun sank over the forest below them, turning the whole world into a reddish orange wonderland.

One evening as they rode together slowly side by side through a big grassy meadow, a very bright light from above suddenly almost blinded them. A loud amplified voice directly overhead commanded them to dismount immediately or they would be shot!

After the initial shock, he called to Steph to make a break for the woods. He sprinted off in the opposite direction, pedaling as fast as he could towards the trees.

He was almost there when the net dropped over him. The fine strands caught the pedals and wrapped around the chainwheel. He crashed to the ground, entangled in the spider-wire netting. The last thing he saw were the figures dressed in dark grey looming over him out of the darkness. Then the Narcodart hit him in the back, and he sunk down into a bottomless pool of blackness.


The thin young man sat in the mechanised chair beside the track. Tinny government musak blared from the speakers. He glanced at the grey armoured riders as they did their compulsory five laps of the groomed and smooth course. He showed little interest in the riders.

He listened to the voices in his head. The voices told him how to behave, how to think, how to feel. The voices were his friends.

He wasn't a rider. He had no real interest in becoming one. How could he be a rider, he thought, looking down at the two stumps, when he had no legs? It was right for him to have no legs. The voices told him so. The voices were his friends.

Just across from where he sat, there was another person in a mechanised chair. She was small and dark. She also had no legs. Their eyes met, but there was no recognition there,
no spark of interest between them. He noticed that she was nodding her head, just like him.

He turned away and listened to the voices in his head, the voices that told him what was correct. He nodded his head in agreement.

The voices were his friends.


· Registered
113 Posts
Great story "agent Smith" BUT .......

... I hope you do realize that after reading this I won't ever feel safe again hitting the trails with my "much bigger than normal" wheeled and from "the rare and almost unobtainable Titanium metal" crafted Moots. Also I can already see myself waking up in the middle of the night, bathing in sweat, just to see if my legs are still there.....

I do not know if I should compliment you on this story or hate you for putting thoughts in my mind ....


· Reviewer/Tester
6,164 Posts
Discussion Starter · #4 ·
Time? on my hands? No more than anyone else Ted. It is very hot here in Oz, mid summer now... I ride every day. I rode today.

It's one of my old stories I wrote some time ago. I just changed it a little to fit. :)


· bike geek
1,049 Posts
Cool! Reminds me a bit of Fahrenheit 451. Riding the illegal trails = reading the banned books.

"They would have killed me, thought Montag, swaying, the air still torn and stirring about him in dust, touching his bruised cheek. For no reason at all in the world they would have killed me."
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