Andrew Sternkern got into debt because of a hoverboat.
Not a practical hoverboat.
Not a transport hoverboat.
Not even a legal hoverboat on most inner-system waterways.
No, Andrew financed a luxury recreational hoverboat called the Azure Dream 5000, which had artificial teak floors, a cocktail synthesizer, and an onboard AI whose primary feature was “emotionally supportive navigation.”
He bought it during what he later described as “a spiritually vulnerable weekend.”
At the showroom, the salesman had leaned close and whispered:
“You strike me as a man who deserves open water.”
Andrew had never once expressed interest in open water.
But the showroom had mood lighting.
And free shrimp.
And the AI on the hoverboat kept calling him “Captain.”
Three hours later he had signed seventeen documents on a glowing tablet while mildly drunk on complimentary champagne.
The salesman shook his hand.
“Congratulations, Captain Sternkern.”
Andrew had floated home across Lake Ontario IV wearing mirrored sunglasses and grinning like an idiot.
For about four months, life was incredible.
Then the maintenance fees started.
Then the docking fees.
Then the anti-gravity calibration fees.
Then the “aquatic turbulence compliance surcharge.”
Then the AI developed abandonment anxiety and repeatedly called emergency services whenever Andrew left it alone longer than eight hours.
The final blow came when the hoverboat attempted to “improve passenger morale” by serving experimental margaritas at full speed during a family tour.
Seven people suffered minor spinal injuries.
One woman sued because the AI called her “first mate chunky.”
Andrew sold the hoverboat immediately.
Unfortunately, he still owed almost ninety thousand credits to Horizon Fidelity Financial.
Which sounded respectable.
Professional.
Independent.
The logo had a mountain on it.
Mountains meant trust.
Three months later Andrew received a polite message:
Horizon Fidelity NotificationWE VALUE YOUR CONTINUED FINANCIAL JOURNEY.
Below that:
“Horizon Fidelity Financial is proud to be a wholly owned subsidiary of Helix Extractive Solutions.”
Andrew actually laughed out loud when he read it.
Then he stopped laughing when the next line appeared.
“Due to payment delinquency, you may qualify for our Debt Resolution Through Opportunity Program.”
Another line appeared.
“EXCITING OFF-WORLD POSITIONS AVAILABLE.”
Another.
“NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.”
Then:
“*Radiation resistance preferred but not required.*”
Andrew stared at the screen.
“Oh no.”
A month later he sat inside a transport shuttle with forty-three other debtors.
Across from him, a man wearing casino slippers asked, “What’d you do?”
Andrew sighed.
“Hoverboat.”
The man nodded sympathetically.
“Vacation cryptocurrency.”
Another passenger raised her hand.
“Designer alpaca cloning.”
A fourth muttered:
“I accidentally subscribed to premium healthcare.”
Everyone nodded.
The shuttle rattled violently.
A corporate orientation video flickered onto the cabin walls.
A smiling woman appeared.
“Welcome to the Helix family!”
Behind her was clearly a stock image of people laughing at salad.
“At Helix, we believe hard work builds character.”
The screen briefly glitched. For three frames, Andrew saw a mining accident. Then the woman returned.
“Your debt is our opportunity!”
Another glitch. A man screaming. Then back again.
“Remember: a positive attitude is mandatory.”
A tiny disclaimer scrolled by at the speed of light:
Failure to maintain positivity may result in corrective morale procedures.
The passenger beside Andrew leaned over.
“You think they can legally say that?”
Andrew looked around the shuttle. Every seat had restraints. The windows were barred. A man near the back was crying into a complimentary Helix nutrition brick.
“No,” Andrew said quietly. “I think they can afford lawyers.”
The shuttle descended through purple clouds. Outside the window, the surface of Yonkers appeared.
Black rock. Violet dust. Lightning crawling silently across the horizon.
And every eleven seconds—
A pale beam swept across the planet. Several passengers looked alarmed.
The orientation woman reappeared.
“The local pulsar beam is completely safe within regulated exposure limits!”
A disclaimer appeared beneath her:
REGULATED BY HELIX.
The shuttle landed hard. Andrew stumbled down the ramp wearing a brand-new mining suit that still smelled like factory plastic and despair.
The airlock doors opened. The violet wasteland stretched endlessly before him. Huge drilling towers clawed at the sky. Security crawlers rolled through the dust.
Far off in the distance stood the faded remains of an ancient survey beacon. Almost buried now. Still blinking weakly.
“WELCOME, PIONEERS!”
Someone behind Andrew muttered:
“Well this was a mistake.”
Andrew looked around slowly. The deadly sky. The mining pits. The endless corporate machinery.
Then he checked his debt balance on the wrist display. Instead of going down, it had somehow increased during the flight.
He stared at it.
“How.”
A nearby supervisor answered without even looking up from his tablet.
“Transportation fees.”
“What transportation fees?”
“The shuttle.”
“You brought me here.”
“Yes.”
“And charged me for it?”
“Yes.”
Andrew opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“...that feels evil.”
The supervisor shrugged.
“Welcome to Yonkers.”