[LOCATION: THE ARCHIVE, SLOUGH]

  Back in the cubicle fortress, Walter brought up a new map on the projector. It was a wireframe layout of Central London.

  "To restore the partition and revoke your Sudo privileges, we cannot just type a command," Walter explained to Kai. "We have to physically interface with the Earth Server’s primary routing node."

  "Where is it?" Kai asked, leaning over the desk. "Canary Wharf? A WeWork in Shoreditch?"

  "Worse," Walter said grimly. "They hid the routing node in plain sight ,an environment so loud and devoid of human soul that its data signature is perfectly camouflaged. A multi story labyrinth of high fructose corn syrup."

  Maya’s eyes widened as she looked at the blinking red dot on the map. She knew that London landmark due to her sweet tooth. "Oh, god," Maya whispered in sheer horror. "Please, no. Not M&M's World in Leicester Square."

  "A fortress of retail," Walter agreed. "The server node is in the sub basement. We must infiltrate the flagship store, bypass the floor managers, and hack the core."

  Grom slammed a massive fist onto the desk, scattering his carefully arranged staplers. "A raid!" the Orc grinned, his tusks gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "We shall storm this citadel of chocolate! We shall claim their candy coated assets!"

  "There's just one problem," Kai pointed out, looking at the map. "Slough is outside London. We don't have a vehicle. How are we supposed to get to Leicester Square?"

  Walter adjusted his cardigan. "We take the train as usual."

  Maya looked at Grom’s 8 foot tall, heavily armored frame. She looked at Gideon holding a spoon, confused by all this talk. She looked at Viscount Pigglesworth smoking a pipe. "Are we going to take the train?" Maya asked. "At this hour?"

  "May the Creator have mercy on us all," Walter whispered.

  Behind them, the holographic map on the whiteboard gave a sudden, sharp ping. Walter turned around.

  The wireframe layout of Greater London was now entirely enclosed in a pulsing red dome. [STATUS: QUARANTINED]. But that wasn't what made Walter's breath catch. Just outside the city limits, a cluster of yellow, corrupted code was rapidly multiplying, bleeding toward the capital like a digital infection.

  [WARNING: THIRD-PARTY VENDOR DETECTED]

  Kai looked down at his wrist, a cold knot of guilt tightening in his stomach. He had caused this. The broken game he coded was now actively infecting the real world. Beneath his skin, the glowing blue [SUDO] tag flickered unsteadily, shedding a few sparks of corrupted data onto the carpet.

  The raid hadn't even started, and the server was already crashing.

  [SYSTEM ALERT] [LOCATION: SLOUGH STATION APPROACH] [STATUS: QUARANTINE ACTIVE]

  The Slough train station was closed. Actually, "closed" was an understatement. The entrance was blocked by a shimmering barricade of yellow and black digital caution tape. Floating above the ticket barriers was a massive, glowing UI prompt:

  [TRACK MAINTENANCE IN PROGRESS] [ESTIMATED TIME OF COMPLETION: 6,700 YEARS]

  "Well, that’s inconvenient," Maya muttered, pulling her jacket tighter against the damp night air.

  Kai looked past the station, his eyes tracing the skyline. A few miles away, cutting through the clouds and plunging straight down into the asphalt of the M25 motorway, was a towering wall of solid red laser-light. It stretched as far as the eye could see, enclosing the entirety of Greater London in a glowing digital cage. Since Slough lay just outside the M25 ring road, the firewall effectively locked them out of the capital.

  "The Quarantine Firewall," Walter whispered, adjusting his cuffs nervously. "Vance actually did it. He locked the city down."

  "Then we shall breach it!" Grom declared, hefting his minigun. "I shall lay down suppressing fire while Gideon flanks the glowing barrier!"

  "You can't shoot a firewall, Grom," Kai sighed, his Sudo-tag itching beneath his skin. "It's pure code. If you touch it, it will probably delete your physical assets."

  Sir Gideon lowered his spoon, looking disappointed. "A coward’s defense. This 'Code' refuses to fight with honor."

  Before Kai could explain network security to a Vegetable Knight, the air around them suddenly shifted. The damp, smoggy smell of Slough vanished. It was instantly replaced by the aggressively synthetic scent of cheap citrus cologne, energy drinks, and freshly printed marketing brochures.

  Walter froze. The scrolling green code in his eyes flared. "Do you smell that?" Walter hissed, backing into the shadows of the station overhang. "Synergy."

  [WARNING: THIRD-PARTY VENDORS DETECTED]

  Down the street, the streetlights began to flicker. Marching around the corner was a squad of figures. They didn't wear the crisp, grey, bureaucratic suits of the Purists. They wore neon-branded, skin-tight corporate tracksuits. Above their heads floated pulsing, holographic pop-up ads: [TIRED OF BREATHING FREE OXYGEN? UPGRADE TO O2-PREMIUM TODAY!]

  "The Monetizers," Maya breathed in horror.

  "They're tracking your Sudo-tag," Walter said to Kai, his voice trembling. "They want to put you behind a paywall. If they touch you, they will drain you into a virtual wallet."

  "Run!" Kai yelled.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Where?!" Maya yelled back. "The station is locked, and the road is blocked!"

  From the dark, rain-slicked street behind them came a sound that did not belong in a digital dystopia. It was a heavy, rattling, tractor-like clatter. It sounded like a washing machine full of spanners tumbling down a flight of stairs.

  A vehicle swerved around the corner and screeched to a halt at the curb. It was a classic, jet-black London Hackney Carriage (LTI TX4). It was belching a thick cloud of diesel smoke into the air.

  The driver's side window rolled down. Leaning out was a man in his late seventies. He wore a flat wool cap, a threadbare tweed jacket, and an expression of profound grumpiness. He held a thermos of tea in one hand.

  "Alright, Walter," the old man grunted in his Cockney accent. "Usual drop-off, or are we dodging the Compliance boys today?"

  "Terry!" Walter gasped in relief. "Get in! Everyone, get in!"

  Kai didn't ask questions. He yanked open the heavy passenger door and dove into the spacious rear cabin. Maya tumbled in after him. Grom had to enter sideways, his massive green shoulders scraping the doorframe and his tusks denting the ceiling. Viscount Pigglesworth scrambled onto the sticky black vinyl seat, immediately turning his monocled nose up at the smell of damp wool and stale tobacco. Sir Gideon sat in the corner, furiously trying to figure out how to strap a 3-point seatbelt across his cape.

  Kai slammed the door shut just as the Monetizers spotted them and began to sprint down the pavement.

  "Drive!" Kai yelled at the plexiglass partition. "Go! They were tracking my tag!"

  "They aren't tracking anything now," Walter said, sagging against the vinyl seats in relief. "Terry's cab is pure analog hardware. No GPS, no Bluetooth, no System telemetry. It acts as a digital Faraday cage. As long as we are inside, your Sudo-tag is masked from the Server's radar."

  Terry didn't rush. He took a sip from his thermos, screwed the lid back on, and casually shifted the cab into gear. "Meter's running," Terry announced, pressing a chunky plastic button on the dashboard.

  The heavy diesel engine roared, and the cab pulled away from the curb at a sluggish but determined pace.

  Kai looked back through the rear window, watching the neon-clad Monetizers shrinking in the distance. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Then, he looked at the back of the driver's head.

  "Walter," Kai whispered urgently. "Why isn't he screaming?"

  "Who, Terry?"

  "Yes, Terry!" Kai gestured wildly around the cab. "He has an 8-foot Orc, a man in a velvet smoking jacket, and a knight holding a spoon in his backseat! Is he an NPC?"

  "Terry is 100% human," Walter explained. "But he is a Londoner. He benefits from the [LONDONER APATHY] passive buff. If a resident of this city sees something inexplicable on public transport, their brain immediately classifies it as 'student theater' or 'cosplay,' and they aggressively ignore it to avoid making eye contact."

  "I had a bloke in the back last Tuesday wearing a full suit of armor," Terry called back through the partition, completely unbothered. "Going to a convention in ExCeL," he said. "Tipped me a quid. At least your green mate here isn't eating a kebab and dropping the lettuce on my floor."

  "I respect the cleanliness of armored transport," Grom rumbled approvingly.

  "Wait," Kai said, leaning forward and looking at the rattling dashboard. "Terry, the city phased out these diesel cabs years ago. You aren't legally allowed to drive this inside the M25. It doesn't meet emission standards."

  "They tried to patch me out," Terry scoffed, tapping his steering wheel. "Tried to make me drive one of those electric toasters. Runs on lithium and firmware updates, absolute rubbish. I run on internal combustion. Pure Physics 1.0."

  "But the ULEZ cameras track your license plate," Kai pointed out. "How do you get past them without getting fined?"

  "Cameras only see what the Server tells 'em to see," Terry grunted proudly. "I went into the registry and overwrote my vehicle's Entity Tag. The camera takes the photo, but the System reads my metadata as a 10-speed bicycle."

  Walter nodded. "Terry has The Knowledge."

  "What, like the memorization test?" Kai asked. "The thing cabbies do to learn the streets?"

  "It is not just a test, Kai," Walter said reverently. "It is a legacy Root Directory. By memorizing every single street, alleyway, and corner of this city, Black Cab drivers effectively download the Earth Server's base code into their own minds. They have Read-Only access to the developer back-alleys."

  Suddenly, the cab slammed on its brakes. The tires squealed against the wet tarmac. Kai was thrown against the plexiglass partition.

  "What's wrong?" Maya yelled.

  Terry pointed out the windshield. Blocking the road ahead, directly beneath the looming red wall of the Quarantine Firewall, was a squad of Monetizers. They had materialized directly in their path. Above them, a massive holographic banner unfurled: [TOLL GATES ENGAGED. PLEASE PREPARE YOUR PAYMENT METHOD.]

  A Monetizer with a slicked back haircut and a Bluetooth earpiece stepped up to the hood of the cab. He held up a glowing digital card reader.

  Kai ducked down, his heart hammering, but the Monetizer's augmented eyes slid right past the passengers in the backseat. Thanks to the cab's analog shielding, the corporate grunt only saw the vehicle's telemetry data.

  "Halt!" the Monetizer declared, addressing the windshield with corporate enthusiasm. "You are operating unsupported legacy hardware within a premium zone! You have triggered a Localized Emission Penalty!"

  "A penalty?" Kai panicked. "I don't have any System Credits!"

  "For your convenience," the Monetizer smiled, his teeth perfectly, terrifyingly white, "the System auto converts cosmic fines to local currency. Please pay the ￡12.50 Microtransaction Emission Charge, or your physical form will be downgraded!"

  Kai groaned. "They literally turned the ULEZ charge into a microtransaction."

  "We must fight!" Grom roared, trying to roll down the window to stick his minigun out.

  But Terry just sat there. The old cab driver stared at the Monetizer through the windshield. His bushy eyebrows lowered. His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

  "You want to charge me," Terry growled, his voice trembling with a rage that transcended space, time, and server partitions, "a ￡12.50 emission fee?"

  "It is mandatory for all basic-tier users..."

  "Hold onto your biscuits," Terry barked.

  Terry didn't hit the brakes. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The diesel engine didn't just roar; it screamed. A massive cloud of thick, black exhaust smoke blasted out of the tailpipe.

  Instead of driving straight at the Monetizers, Terry violently yanked the steering wheel to the right. The heavy Black Cab mounted the curb, completely bypassed the road, and drove directly toward the solid brick wall of an old Victorian warehouse.

  "Terry, you're going to kill us!" Kai screamed, throwing his hands over his face.

  "Relax, son," Terry grunted, not even blinking. "This wall hasn't had its collision mesh updated since 1998."

  [SYSTEM ALERT: UNREGISTERED GEOMETRY DETECTED]

  The cab hit the wall. There was no crash. There was no crunch of metal. The bricks simply rippled like the surface of a pond, and the entire Black Cab clipped smoothly through the solid brickwork, sinking into the architecture as if it were an illusion.

  For 3 terrifying seconds, Kai was surrounded by absolute, empty grey void, the unrendered space between the city's files. Then, the cab burst out the other side.

  They hit the tarmac hard, the suspension groaning as they landed in a brightly lit, chaotic street on the other side of the quarantine zone. Looking back, Kai saw the towering red laser-wall of the M25 Firewall shrinking behind them. Terry had bypassed the entire quarantine using a 20-year-old developer glitch.

  "Absolute liberty," Terry muttered, checking his rearview mirror and taking another calm sip of his tea. "￡12.50. The cheek of it. Where to, Walter?"

  Walter adjusted his glasses, looking pale but victorious. "Take us into the belly of the beast, Terry. Take us to Leicester Square."

  Accidentally Legendary

  by Liam West

  Legendary.