Brightworks Cab Company runs the night shift downtown. Used to operate twenty four hours, rain or shine, but ever since the police took over the city, it just isn't safe during the daylight hours. Guiles is the one driver of the classic checker that is Brightworks' only vehicle. She is nondescript, mild-eyed, has been twenty seven for fifteen years now. The light on the roof of the cab is always in service.

This is an odd gloomy city. There are places of beauty unknown to angels, and creatures spewed from the Mouth of hell itself. Buildings are smoke stained brick or mirrored ivory towers. Politicians watch from above and descend, as vultures do when they smell corpses and scandal. The streets are mean but honest in their madness. Lawmen are the destroyers of chaos, to be avoided where disorder is a way of life. Bums parade exotic plumage from Chanel and old ladies have been known to knock dentists down and steal their teeth. Gangs run abortion rings for parents who have discovered their children are normal; brothels sell cybernetic sex to teenagers who dodged the scalpels. Fire hydrants beg on street corners and street vendors sell life insurance from the gutters. In the sewers crawl albino reptiles and in the harbor sailing ships rot and decay. Seafood born of toxins regularly evolve legs and crawl up onto the syringe strewn beach; deciding Darwin was a crackpot, they usually return to the ocean.

But there are those who stay. They go to work, operate the cogs in some unseen but terribly important machine, take off at one for tea, work some more, go home, sleep through the dark hours, and return to work the next day. Oblivious to the nine hours of night these workers take the subway, bus, or perhaps they commute. There is only one cab in the city, and it doesn't run in the light of day. Its' garage is near the heart of downtown--in fact every twilight evening Guiles hoses off the blood asphalt in front of the building. The aorta started leaking about three months after the mayor diverted funds to the transit system. Since then the area has been going downhill. But Brightworks remains, with its three story brick front and glowing windows, the service bay that opens directly onto the street, and the smell of oil and gasoline drifting out over passerby. None of them could tell you why, but the gangs, hoodlums, and lowlife keep away. The wrought iron register is in plain view from the sidewalk, through the ever-open bay doors, and each morning Guiles puts the night fares inside. Nothing is ever missing.

Brightworks Cab Co, 455-2000. Sunset to sunrise, twenty-four seven; a safe ride through the streets of the maddening crowd.

I know it's short. Basically it's an idea in the making, and I'd like some HONEST reviews, rather than false niceties. I'm taking it down shortly to add about five related stories, but before I do I'd like to know if there are any problems that I'm missing due to overzealousness. Thanks and help out. Don't be a hitman :)