[ WP ] Caffeine is made illegal and is now rated Schedule I by the DEA .

`` What's in the back, sir?'' 
 
 I focused hard on not swallowing. 
 
 `` Just my stuff, I'm moving in with my brother in Bellevue. Been out of work almost a year, ca n't afford my own place anymore.'' 
 
 A flicker of sympathy, a subtle epicanthic twitch. His uniform was well maintained, but the telltales of wear and tear were soaked deep into the fabric. Cops had to buy their own uniforms these days, and this noose looked like he upheld the law more often than his income. Law enforcement wages were a flat percentage of income from arrests and fines. I'd been pulled over by a unicorn. A cop with a conscience. Or a history. 
 
 Or both. 
 
 I grabbed the advantage and squeezed. 
 
 `` I have a.. record. Espresso. Did four months in Delkirk, and six in a rehab program. No one hires people like me anymore. Wish I'd been around in the twenties, like my parents. Everyone did... well. You know.'' 
 
 Slight flush of skin, eyes momentarily unfocused. Thin film of sweat emerging on temples. He was a user, or had been. 
 
 `` I... yes, I understand. Sorry for your... troubles. My son had -'' 
 
 A pause, and a blink. He caught himself from crossing a line. 
 
 `` Yes. Well. I still have to search the back. Rules. Sorry.'' 
 
 Fuck. I watched him swivel away and head to the rear of my trailer. My preparation had been methodical. Every item packed had been separately sourced. Off the web, from estate sales, even through word of mouth. Everything looked like it belonged to the exact persona I'd adopted. Every object, every piece of furniture and knick-knack also had a hollowed out compartment, obsessively concealed, full to the brim with pure Columbian product. Straight from the fields. Unroasted, fresh. Five thousand imperial credits per ounce. I was hauling three years of planning, and what could become my retirement fund. 
 
 And this backwater noose was about to ruin it. 
 
 I pressed the thumb of my right hand into my palm, and visualized a perfect steel cube. The neurotoxic dart gun in my wrist acknowledged the activation passkey in my mind, and a subliminal vibration ran up the length of my arm. 
 
 I waited. 

