Neon Relay — “002: Off-Grid” He woke to the low hum of the ship. Nothing failing. Good enough for the night. Justin stayed there a second, letting it come back—where he was, what needed to move. Nothing yet. He powered down, locked up, and headed for the shop. Same door. Same sign. Same narrow space nobody noticed unless they had a reason. Inside, it was controlled. Desk. Terminal. Enough room to work. Nothing extra. The queue was empty. Good. He set his gloves on the counter and leaned there a moment, eyes on the screen without really looking. Most days started like this. Nothing waiting. Just time. People didn’t walk in much. They sent things. Left things. Didn’t stay. That worked fine. He thought about the last run, then didn’t. That wasn’t part of the job. Out there, everything moved on schedule. In here, nothing did. That was the job. Not the flying. The waiting. Eventually, something would show up. It always did. The terminal flickered. He saw it. No tag. No sender. Just weight and a destination that didn’t resolve unless you looked at it twice. He let it sit there. Then he leaned forward. And read.