Neon Greene

In the midst of the sprawling bazaar, there was a large single storey building. 

A former storage depot or maybe one of those quickfab supermarkets. It was now a "maker shed". Divided into 3 square meter cubicles each equipped with the essential maker gear and a stall window. 

Thousands of freelancers were producing and selling their custom wares. At the back of the shed the more modern equipment like chemical synthesizers and nanoprinters were available for a fee to anyone that needed something special produced. Synthetic fuels or long-forgotten and out of license cover perfumes were a popular item. The finer nanopinters were good enough to print custom ICs. 

You could register and rent a cubicle for a day, week or a month and start your own business producing or offering services.

Towards one corner of the building there was a bright holographic banner showing a classic car. The sign rotated and hailed for attention. She passed by the stall out of curiosity and saw one of the bigger cubicles was occupied by an ancient VW beetle. It was painted in a high gloss large flake metallic green. The shape reminiscent of an insect matched perfectly with the paintjob. The only original part on it was probably the manufacturer number and its name as the back cover was open and she could see the EV engine that had replaced the original long gone combustion block. Even if oil was still a thing, no one would be stupid or rich enough to burn large quantities of it just to get around on a car. Cheap nuclear power made sure electricity was abundant and available to everyone. In the spirit of charity, towards the middle of the 22nd century the teams of scientists developing the fusion reactors gave away the detailed designs to the world for free. Their corporate management were not happy and the teams ended-up in prison for a brief time. No one wanted a repeat of the energy wars of the 21st century so they were let go without a big fuss. Corporate legals doing a u-turn and hailing them as humanity's heroes while the marketing AIs spun press releases that made their masters look good. 

She had snuck in and registered last night. No one would suspect her here. She created an account by the name "Neon Greene" and got working. 

The provided 3D printer was good enough. She could work with it. There were enough designs in the  local cache of the thingieverse she could combine into something that would stand out and look original without infringing on any copyrighted IPs or copying any NFTs that would make her pop-up like a spam ad from the dawn of the Internet on the copyright AI scanners. 

She'd be just original enough to pass but not enough to engage the ever-watching eyes of the corporate AIs. 

The next evening. 

"Rapid delivery for maker Neon Greene" the tannoys sounded. 

In the makers shed over the cubicles bustling with frantic work, a woven polymer sack moved on the rails crisscrossing the ceiling. It passed over the cubicles where other makers were building and selling their merch and slowed over hers. It flipped and deposited the silicone bladders with the liquid she'd ordered synthesized earlier and accelerated towards its origin to fulfill the next delivery. She took them and squeezed them out into the dispensers and had a sniff before putting the caps and pressurizing them. She stepped out from the rented cubicle completely transformed.

Heavy goth boots, ripped(tm) stockings with garters, short neon green skirt, neon green suspenders over a body fitting black, snakeskin(tm)  tank top. Skin covered in glitter and neon green pixie cut hair. The leftover oils from the tracker fluid that clung to her hands emitted the pheromone she ordered synthesized. It screamed to her. She could track it for miles. And the scent would be imperceptible to non-modded humans, animals or insects. Little consolation as whoever it was she was sent after would probably have mods too, albeit combat strength, reflex augmentations and focus boosters most likely. 

Nostrils flared, a final glance around, her hair and garments glowing with their luminescent glow in the darkened entrance of the shed, she stepped out into the dusty alleyways outside.

Covered herself in a drab thawb the color of wet sand she threw a last glance towards the shed and disappeared out into the evening gloom of the bazar.