Nakia Takes A Ride

Nakia wanted to clear her head. So much human interaction in one day made her bones feel jittery. And if she didn't get her powers under control, autumn in Southern California was going to look like monsoon season in Nepal.

She decided break in Phantom. Her unicycle was an electric-solar hybrid prototype that could get up to two hundred miles per hour, and the hybrid electric-solar battery meant that she could go for days without stopping. Between the shock pump and high pedals, it was made for off-roading, but was too dangerous for actual production. 

Nakia'd had to pretend to be a set designer for a sci-fi movie in order to get it made. Even then, they'd sent her the damn thing without any phase wires, and a few other mechanical booby traps to make sure it wasn't operational. Their commitment to safety didn't keep them from building a bike that could kill a human who looked at it too long, let alone stepped foot on a pedal. Nakia was in love.

The biggest problem she had with Los Angeles was that no matter the time, the streets were always busy. Not deadlock traffic at ten in the evening, but busy enough that an opalized skeleton riding a unicycle would be caught on more than one phone camera. So, she plopped Phantom into the back of the sparkly turquoise Jeep Wrangler 4xe that Kim had arranged for Sunny to drive around. The vehicle had been Nakia's choice. The color had been a fun surprise. So had the bubble gum pink interior. Kim had wanted to name it Twinkle. Stupid name for a car.

Bubbles purred down quiet Beverlee Hills streets, her glittering surface catching the faint glow of motion-sensor lights. Nakia eased past manicured hedges and silent gates, the world of polished lawns and curved driveways shrinking behind her. Sunset Boulevard stretched ahead, empty but for the occasional streetlight, painting long, soft rectangles across the asphalt.

As she turned north onto Coldwater Canyon Drive, the city’s carefully curated stillness began to fracture. Houses thinned, then disappeared, swallowed by shadows and eucalyptus trees. The road narrowed, twisting upward into the hills, the Jeep’s engine sounding louder—not because she accelerated, but because the silence around it made every vibration resonate.

By the time she reached Mulholland Drive, the lights of Los Angeles glimmered far below, a constellation of warmth and distance. Here, the world felt different: darker, quieter, edged with scrub brush and steep drop-offs. Nakia drove a short stretch along the ridge, searching for her spot, until the Mulholland Scenic Overlook emerged—a small patch of asphalt wedged against the hillside, empty except for the whisper of wind.

She pulled in, killing the engine. Bubbles ticked as she cooled, and for a moment there was only the distant hum of the city beneath the hills. She tugged Phantom from his spot in the back seat, letting him swing loosely in her hand as she stepped off the asphalt.

Ahead, the pavement broke and dirt took over, a narrow trail curling into shadow. She mounted the unicycle, leaned forward, and felt the terrain shift beneath her. Asphalt became gravel, gravel became dust. A mile from the Jeep, she took off her clothes, shoes, and bandages, and left them all folded neatly on the ground. 

She stacked her clothes into a small bundle, tucking each corner beneath a flat stone she found nearby, pressing them gently into the dirt to keep them from scattering.

A few low branches offered natural shelter, and she nudged the bundle into their shadow. From the trail’s angle, the pile disappeared entirely—hidden behind rocks, leaves, and scrub. She stepped back, scanning the path she’d ridden, satisfied that nothing would catch the wind or attract curious wildlife.

Then, with a quick glance at the city lights far below, she mounted the unicycle again. The trail ahead was empty, dark, and inviting. She leaned forward, and the wheel hummed softly beneath her as she melted back into the canyon.

She didn't feel the need to push Phantom to his limits, so she cruised along at fifty miles per hour, the unicycle’s single wheel rolling over loose gravel and a scattering of fallen leaves. Every crunch beneath her tire echoed in the quiet night. The trail narrowed, twisted around scrubby bushes, and dipped into a shallow ravine. She adjusted her balance with a subtle shift of her hips, and the electric motor hummed in perfect harmony with her movement.

A gentle breeze carried the scent of dry brush and sun-warmed earth, the hills still holding onto the day’s heat. Rocks jutted from the path; she leaned forward, letting her strength guide her.

The trail steepened. Loose dirt threatened to skid under her wheel, but she tilted just enough, the unicycle’s power compensating for friction, propelling her forward. Every twist of the path felt like a rhythm: up, down, lean, pivot. She climbed slopes that seemed impossibly steep, descended sharply without faltering.

The trail split. One fork led toward a ridge with a view of the city, the other into a darker, narrower canyon path. Nakia chose the latter. Darkness swallowed her, leaving only the soft whir of her unicycle and the crunch of leaves beneath. Tiny dust motes glinted faintly in the unicycle’s light, like miniature stars along the path. Nakia's opalized bones, a souvenir of that one time she'd been sacrificed to a volcano in Atlantis, glimmered faintly.

She floated briefly over a bed of loose stones, landing smoothly, perfectly balanced. The hills rose and fell in a rhythm, and Nakia moved with them, effortless, unstoppable. By the time the trail began to widen into an old service road, the Jeep far behind, the city’s glittering lights seemed almost unreal. She let the canyon swallow her completely, Phantom whispering beneath her, the early autumn night wrapping around her like a cloak.