Betts had insisted on an early bedtime so we'd be fresh and well-rested for the raid. I tried, but just spent most of the night staring at the Hive ceiling, bubbling with anxiety, excitement, uncertainty about if this was the right thing to do, and questions: why had Uncle Alec left me a message? What was the cause of his disappearance? I needed to get back to that Pinto to watch the rest of his vid…

When I woke, everyone was finishing up last-minute prep, and chewing on more Pabst nutribars. Betts had handed out freshly synthed comm ear buds, and everyone had them in. Those deck threads everyone was picking out the day before were now adorning my fellow 'Snatchers. The energy fueling their belief that somehow this raid would magically get us back on top of the Leaderboard was still palpable, and their preparations were punctuated by buoyant chatter and fronting.

Gallagher was more chill in his prep; he simply donned his leather jacket, and crossed his arms, waiting. When everyone was dressed to the nines, we all made our way to the Shop and made extra sure our bikes were tip-top for riding.

I noticed Gal wasn't doing much, just leaning against a wall next to his bike. After tightening up my rims, I walked over to him and swatted him on the back. "Hey, Gal, haven't you got any other prep you want to do? Things could get ugly, don't you want something to, ah, defend yourself with?”

He shot me a sympathetic look and shook his head sadly. "Kid, I'm too old to fight. If it comes to a rumble, I'll be the diplomatic arm, or help with the retreat. You know I've always been up for a good junkrun, but not this. This is not the way.”

Gal had refused to take the standard path to punkdom, taking on an administrative role for the gang, staying in the warren and posting our finest re-cooled loot for sale on the StarNet. He was still fit enough to be a runner, so Betts allowed it.

"Me and your grandparents used to be real tight, did you know that?" I shook my head. “Your grans and your folks agreed with me that we've lost the way, these days. I don’t just mean Bandersnatch. All the cycler gangs are becoming more and more like the Rads."

“The Rads? I thought they were just an ancient legend. They were some kind of hipster rebels back on Old Earth?”

Gallagher grinned, nodding. “The records are there on the StarNet if you know where to look. They didn’t have synth plants back then, but the Rads destroyed the Old Earth equivalent—manufactories, I think they were called, comm stations, and other important infra. The leaders of the time cracked down hard on anyone who even looked like a hipster after that.”

“Jeez, Gal, kinda messed up to think we were ever like that. Why did the Rads do that?”

“Well, the story goes that the very first Hipstamatic was built back then, and it supercharged the True Culture into something that shook up the rest of society. So the leaders shut it down. The Rads formed in protest of the shutdown.”

I shivered. That floored me. “Hipstamatic was around all the way back then?”

Gallagher laughed. “Well, not the one we know today. That one was very different. Funny thing, though. If it weren’t for the Rads shaking things up, we might never have colonized the galaxy. But that’s a story for another time.”

I nodded, curious. “Let’s get through this raid, and if we do, you can tell me, ok?”

“Of course kid, happy to,” he said sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. “If we get through this raid. The point is though, before the Rads, back on Old Earth, you didn’t have to live in hiding to be a hipster. Sure people might mock you a little, but that was the worst of it.”

“Man, imagine being able to spread the True Culture without living in hiding,” I sighed.

Gallagher squeezed my shoulder. “I know. But check it, Betts is getting antsy to go,” he said nodding toward the rest of the gang, already all heading out of the Shop.

“Right,” I grabbed the handlebars of my fixie and started walking it down the corridor. “Hey Gal?”

“Yeah Juno?” he said, following.

“What do you mean 'the way'? What did you- and my folks- think was the right way to do things?"

A smirk appeared on his face. "You know what I mean. I've seen how you pick out stuff that's got practical use, that isn't just what Hipstamatic tells you. Or that is what it tells you, but you find better uses for it."

He winked at me.

I flinched. Nobody was supposed to have caught that. Better Gal than others, I guess. I hoped it was just him.

"My point is, Juno, you understand the value of a balance between being hip and getting things done."

His eyes flashed at me. "You understand that keeping the True Culture alive has never called for more than sass."

I blushed. I also panicked. "Keep your voice down," I hissed. "I don't need Betts knowing I've been floutin' the rules―"

Gallagher lowered his voice and leaned in close to me as we walked a good many paces behind the others. "Kid, relax. That's just what I mean. Did you know that the original hipsters were never violent, at all? The ones before the Rads, I mean. Hell, they couldn't hurt a cat snipe if they tried. They were all about style. For centuries, we'd come back to that and lived ok, but as you well know, in the last few decades, tension's been higher, and we've come to this again," he said, spreading his arms wide.

“This?” I asked, but I felt the answer in my bones.

"Living in seedy ghettos, picking fights with each other and the junkbunnies just for stuff that we're told to find. You may not remember it, but your folks did the same as you―they were focused on finding the balance between the re-cooled and the functional. But Hipstamatic has been...odd, the last few decades. Trust me, I've been in this gig for almost a century, and I'm tellin' you something's not right. We're bein' told to collect stuff that's causin' more and more clashes, more raids and rumbles than ever before, at least more than there've been since the Dark Times. Also, some of the stuff showing up on Hipstamatic is wanted hard by the Committee―isn't that a little strange?"

My head was swimming with all of this. I didn't know what to think. But before we could talk more, we had caught up to Betts and she was rallying us together to head out for Random's turf.