Manolo will no longer return to 40 again. His incipient belly and some cane lost in his temples testify. Look through the train window to the periphery while the last contaminated sunbeams give way to the neon lights of the rugged city. He thinks then in his family. In the cold farewell to his wife, older than when I met her, spoiled by maternity and routine. His children, who barely raised their eyebrows when he said goodbye to them, leaving their gaze nailed in mobiglass watching the latest Satabal party. But that does not matter anymore. The jungle of buildings distinguishes that of Shubin, where Manolo works as a transporter ... that is, he worked. He remembers with displeasure his boss, that seedy old man and with grains, that after 20 years doing every day, without failing one, the route of Hurston to Arc Corp, carrying dehydrated meat products, he refused a salary increase. But that is no longer important. After getting off at the last train stop, open a discreet hangar where the silhouette of a new Cutlass Black seems to want to be diluted in the darkness of the environment. Check that the 44 units of cargo are complete, he doesen’t need to unpack the plastics to know what it contains. While the driver's seat rises, he feel with satisfaction the smell of newly-opened new ship. Smuggling out this cago is his secret revenge towards those who told him that he was not going to get to anything, that he was not nobody. But Manolo does not care about anything. Because everyone in the advoqacy knows Manolo, making every day, without failing one, the route of Hurston to Arc corp, transferring dehydrated products. The police greet him and leave. Manolo prepares the quantum leap and smiles. There is so much merchandise to deal with! So much dirty money to win! So many sluts on the truck stops to play with!. Because when Manolo pilot, he puts the whole galaxy at his feet. Manolo, the transporter, is the King of the verse.