Quack! Quack! Quack! Another one flies the Duck! The corporate motto forFowl Air Taxi Service. An affordable alternative for Dystopians, like Sox, who get around without technologically augmenting themselves. Even if this mode is not very kitty. To Sox's surprise her fowl mouthed cabbie, Mallard, wouldn't live anywhere other than the estrogen imbued, sythocrete jungle that is Dystopia. A safe zone, conflict shuns the place he observes. Quite the insight for someone whose hands are on his feet, Sox reflected. Though at that moment the free speaking Sox was not about to mock the fact that a bird's arms and legs were reversed - functionally speaking. It's a long drop to the ground for someone without wings. Besides, there are no decent cat houses in the Reactor District.1 Indeed, Dystopia could only be safer if the mayor had plundered the International Prototype Kilogram (IPK) during one of his meth runs -er... fact finding junkettes to France. But such is the power of the IPK, none dare defile it. Even fascists need their standards.2 And speaking of the mayor, still no sign of the man since he disappeared in the City Park over two years ago. The Triffid diaspora continue to plead ignorance in the matter. Dystopia has waxed sovereign and unmolested for decades. Those who have the means to sack it also have the most to lose. Would you blow up a bank if your money was in it? At any moment, many an international usurer may have substantial portions of their fortunes - if not all - in a Dystopian bank, laundromat or baby formula fabricator.3 Those who wield the true power of life or death keep their filthy lucre in motion to evade impending taxation and law enforcement. Funds do not rest in one jurisdiction for many seconds otherwise governments might catch up just long enough to set up a public health care system. That means money can be anywhere and everywhere at any time of the day or night. Strike at your enemies and you strike at yourself. Or, “Жу Маршу, Жу Маршу, Жу Маршу!”, as Lord Яфpek would lament. “It's very dangerous to fire energy weapons in an enclosed space”, a great man once said while being insufferably pleased by his own cleverness. It is this principle mutually assured destitution (MAD) that adds to the stable comity in Dystopia. As a bonus, forced fiscal motion through rapid update of tax laws does maintain a respectable portion of the local GDP. “經紀! И они мне вор”, as Lord Яфpek would lament. Beyond the mercurial assets of nybblebread,4 there are the chattels and patrimony flowing through the skies and streets of Dystopia. The glowing, streams of materialism are not only the city's nutrition but a wicker of immunity. Incoming shock and awe could not consummate the web of commerce unspoiled. Ever tried detonating a damaged nuke? Direct collision can happen but automated counter measures onboard the couriers are wary of privateering. They are rabid to open up a can of righteous, plasmatized whoop-ass upon anything straying within proximity. Though winged organics like Mallard are ignored - another reason to like Dystopia he says. Altogether this is why Sox can relax and enjoy her taxi ride. Her enemies in the Peace Maker's GuildTM could not strike at her even if they knew where she was. One more advantage of traveling by Duck rather than anything technological. These are factors in what philosophers, politicians and arms dealers complain is pushing, "The Dreaded Peace Curve". 1Other towns may have a "Battery" but Dystopia has a "Reactor" 2Seriously, the Nazis would not touch Pavillon de Breteuil during the occupation in WWII. 3It's like a nunnery in Elizabethan times. 4Another innovative financial product brought to you by BirdieDoDo Enterprises International. Formerly, the Happy Mutant Irradiated Cookie Company of Pinawa, Manitoba. We're not a pyramid scheme anymore.