The Tower of Endless Worlds
Page 8
Simon sat on the bus, watching downtown Chicago roll past. “It was a miserable job, anyway. No insurance, annoying customers, and a huge commute. I’m better off, really.”
The old man sitting across the aisle ignored him. A young black woman with a child in her arms gave him an annoyed look. Simon sighed and glared out the window.
The bus shuddered to a stop. Simon got to his feet and climbed out, the July sun beating on his head.
He walked five blocks to a parking lot ringed with a chain link fence crowned in barbed wire. The lot’s owner rented spaces to people needing to commute via bus or the EL downtown.
“See?” Simon said as he walked to the booth. “An hour commute, and I had to pay three dollars a day in parking. I’m way better off.”
Simon approached his vehicle, a battered red Ford Aerostar minivan that had seen better days during its 180,000 miles. A pair of pigeons perched on the roof had left their droppings all over the hood and the windshield.
He climbed into the van and rolled down all the windows. The air conditioning had stopped working about a year ago, but the van needed a new transmission before he spent the money. Though with no job, and hence no money, van repairs would have to wait.
It took him the better part of five minutes to get the van started. He gritted his teeth and forced the sticky gearshift lever into drive, steered through the rows of parked cars, and pulled into traffic.
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