The rain-slicked streets of Seattle glittered under the neon lights as I made my way through the shadows. My heart was poundin', but not from the run – from what I was carryin'. Tucked away in hidden compartments of my jacket were dozens of tiny packages, each one more valuable than gold.
Seeds. Real, unmodified, non-GMO seeds. The kind that could get you locked up faster than any BTL or restricted cyberware.
I'd been plannin' this run for months, callin' in every favor I had. My contact in the Sioux Nation had come through, but gettin' the seeds into the sprawl? That was all on me.
As I turned a corner, I saw the checkpoint ahead. KE drones hovered, their sensors sweepin' the crowd. I took a deep breath, tryin' to look casual as I joined the line of late-night workers and partiers.
"Identification," the bored-looking officer demanded when I reached the front.
I held out my fake SIN, prayin' to whatever gods were listenin' that Syntax's hack would hold. The officer's eyes flickered as he scanned it, and I felt sweat begin to form on my brow.
After what felt like an eternity, he nodded. "Purpose of your visit to Downtown?"
"Just headin' to work," I rumbled, doin' my best to sound like a wage slave. "Night shift at the soy processin' plant."
He waved me through, and I had to force myself not to run. One hurdle down, but the night was far from over.
I made my way to the rendezvous point – an old community center that had seen better days. As I approached, a figure melted out of the shadows. Whisper, her chrome gleaming dully in the low light.
"You got the goods?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, patting my jacket. "Let's get inside before someone sees us."
Once in the safety of the building, I began to unload my precious cargo. Whisper's eyes widened as she saw the variety – tomatoes, peppers, herbs, even some rare fruit varieties.
"Drek, Neon," she breathed. "This is... this is incredible. But why risk it? We could've just hit a gardening store, grabbed some corp-approved seeds."
I shook my head, feeling the weight of what we were doing. "Those ain't real, omae. They're designed to die after one season, to keep us dependent. These?" I held up a packet of heirloom tomato seeds. "These are the real deal. Seeds our ancestors grew, before the corps got their hands on everything."
Whisper nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. "It's not just about food, is it? It's about takin' back control."
"Exactly," I grinned. "Every plant we grow from these is a big 'frag you' to the corps. It's about rememberin' what real food tastes like, what it means to work with nature instead of tryin' to control it."
We spent the next few hours dividin' up the seeds, preparing to distribute them to our network of secret gardens throughout the sprawl. As we worked, I couldn't help but imagine the future we were planting – literally.
"You know," Whisper said, carefully packaging some herb seeds, "my grandmother used to talk about her garden back in the day. Said nothin' tasted better than a tomato right off the vine. I always thought she was exaggerating."
I nodded, understanding all too well. "That's what they want us to think. That all this processed drek is normal. But we're gonna show people the truth."
As dawn began to break, we finished our work. Looking at the tiny packages ready to be distributed, I felt a surge of hope. Yeah, we were just a few runners in a massive sprawl. But every revolution starts small.
"What now?" Whisper asked as we prepared to leave.
I grinned, feeling the weight of possibility in my hands. "Now? We plant. We grow. We teach others. 'Cause every meal made from these seeds is an act of rebellion. It's us sayin' we won't be controlled, right down to what we put in our bodies."
As we slipped back into the awakening city, I knew the real work was just beginning. The corps would fight us every step of the way. But with every seed we planted, every natural vegetable we grew, we were creating something they couldn't control or corrupt.
In a world of chrome and concrete, we were bringin' back a little piece of what we'd lost. And maybe, just maybe, we'd remind people what it meant to be connected to the earth, to each other, and to the food that sustains us all.
'Cause in the end, that connection? That's the most powerful magic of all.