Point of Origin, Chapter two - Welcome to Mayhem

\

Five and half months later…

(Five phases and three Interphases)

"When we catch you, you’re gonna be dead, Evren!”

The voice of Kan Oh’Krean thundered through the narrow Tunnel-street, catching the attention of a handful of people and Bots as I ran.

Willing my legs to run faster, I fought the overwhelming urge to look behind me. I knew I wouldn’t like what I saw, so I just didn’t look.

People in the street either exclaimed or cursed as I pushed past them, while others, in typical Covienian fashion, threw vague and not-so-vague curse-signs in my direction.

I accepted them with a nod.

It was understandable, I guess. I was ruining the day for quite a few people.

There was one tall Tirionian that saw the mechanics behind me, gave me a thumbs up, and continued to work– so I guess not everybody was on their side. I took it as a good sign and ran past a metal shop, dodging sparks as I flew past the opening.

I hefted the metal arm higher, holding the Bot replacement much like one would hold a baby.

Gods in Eth. If I had known how much these things actually weighed, I definitely would've thought this out more– at the time, all I knew was that I had to do it, not so worried about the how of it all. But, maybe it wouldn't have mattered anyhow, as it didn’t really look like I was the kind of person that did anything half-ways.

Especially not today.

At the end of the Tunnel-street I turned to the right, skidding out of control as I turned sharply. Regaining my balance, I decided to hurtle through a much more populated street, praying that the nonexistent traction on my mismatched boots would hold up.

I spared a nanosecond to glance at a sign. I saw an 'M'.

'M' meant one thing, and that was Market Street.

“Oh–” I exclaimed. “There's only one exit to the Surface here.”

As I deliberated my options, the boots of the mechanics stumbled into the street

I had just ran through– a subtle cue for me to stop thinking and run.

I decided it didn’t really matter where I was, I just needed to be somewhere else.

And really, really fast.

As I now had stalls and shop fronts to dodge, progress slowed to a jerky, awkward pace. You see, Market Street meant no shuttles, no Haulers, and next-to-no running space. It was like this street was set up to catch running Mech-part thieves.

Actually, I wonder if they did that on purpose…

On a normal day, the only enjoyable pace to move through this street was to shuffle and stroll from one haphazardly placed stall to the next. That was a luxury I did not have right now, and not one I would ever have again if I didn’t move fast enough.

With no better option as I neared an over-stacked food stall, I jumped as far as I could over a pile of crates holding yellow, squarish fruit.

Surprisingly, my feet landed squarely on the other side, and I let out an exclamation of victory.

Unfortunately for me, my smug satisfaction was short-lived. The weight of the Bot-arm caught up with me, and I tumbled headfirst into a clothing rack.

Head over heels, I came out on the other side with a hat on my head and a scarf around my neck. A few feet away, the startled owner looked at me, horrified, and proceeded to shout at me in a language– that, quite frankly– I was glad I couldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, ma’am!” I said, frantically loosening myself from her merchandise and trying to untangle myself from stiff fabrics and bolts of cloth. “It feels really nice, though!” I threw the words over my shoulder, leaping from the ground and jumping through a stall selling different colours of flavoured salt.

Past tech stalls, soap sellers, and even a bench that was selling some kind of pink beverage, I threw apologies left and right as I bumped into Bots, boxes, and even a little Secodack that was carrying a tray of heart shaped pastries.

Far ahead, I saw an exit from my problems and the stitch induced from my fast-paced hell: a small side alley that separated two blocks. The alley didn’t reach the roof of the Lower Lisk level above, and looked dingy and rusty.

Perfect for me in every way.

After a short– but rather flowery– silent prayer of thanks to the Forces That Be, I skidded into the alley way, the arm nearly falling from my grasp as I hurtled down the dark and damp alley.

The noises of Market Street grew fainter, but not out of earshot.

I tried to leap over a pile of damp soft-board boxes that had been thrown into the alley from some shop's side door, but this jump was not so lucky as my previous, and my foot caught on the top of a box that came from the deepest level of Eth (I was sure), flooring me to the ground of the alley.

As I picked myself up off the ground, I told myself that I didn’t have time for this, but the universe didn’t agree.

Something was choking me, making it hard to breathe. With my bandaged hand, I reached up and felt a cord around my neck. I thought back to the fabric stall that I had fallen into. “Dammit!” I coughed, trying to shake the box off my leg as I stood. “I stole a hat!”

I continued to run, but the box wouldn’t be shaken from my leg. I had decided that the box and the hat would just have to stay when my attention was drawn upwards, and very suddenly, they became the very last of my quickly growing problems.

What stared at me from the end of the alley, was just that–

The end.

Of the alley.

The cruel hard surface of the alley wall seemed to laugh at me coldly, mocking my petty attempts at escape.

Not fair. I was being mocked by inanimate objects, now; it was hard enough to take when real people did it.

I swallowed, taking a few steps back. “Not good,” I told the box.

Turning my back to the wall, I saw the mechanics had followed me into the alley.

They stepped over the boxes with their enviously long legs.

Kan directed her permanent scowl to me, then the arm, and back to me again. Her smudged and messy blue Tironian markings paired with her unfair, and quite frankly– in my opinion– ridiculous height, showed a mixed-kind heritage, but her dark eyes were as Covienian as anything. And they were as angry as any native Covienian I’d seen, too.

Now at the front of the group, she put her hands on her hips, shifting her stance

in her greasy coveralls.

“Give it back, mechscrubber,” she demanded, flicking her long red braid over her shoulder. Her words were firm and resolute, and for a moment, no one moved.

I swallowed.

I should just play dumb; she already thinks I'm an idiot.

“Give what back?” I asked, trying to look adequately confused as I held the Bot arm in both my clenched fists.

Kan’s expression darkened.

I looked to my right, seeing a rusty ladder that stretched all the way to the top of the building that made up one side of the alley wall.

“Take the arm,” Kan said. “Bring her back to the workshop, and we’ll let Lou deal with her.”

As the mechanics closed in, I cast another glance at the ladder a few metres away. It hung to the side of the building on rusty brackets, missing rungs and some important sections. And I’m sure if I had time to look at it properly, it would have death trap written all over it in bold, clear writing.

Well, luckily for me, I still couldn’t read.

I made a dive for the ladder.

Leaping off the ground, I started climbing up the rusty metal contraption with all the speed I had left in me, which wasn’t a lot.

One of the mechanics grabbed my boot, and I kicked him away, instinctively. One of my mismatched boots collided with his face, and I could feel his nose give way with a crunch.

Ohh, that’s gonna leave a mark.

I scampered up the ladder faster, calling over my shoulder as the mechanic fell onto the ground and clutched his face. “Sorry, Gary!”

I shook my head, looking back up the ladder with a wince. “Damn, he was a nice guy."

Climbing the ladder with a Bot arm was harder than I thought it would be. It rested on my collar bone as I climbed, and I tried to keep it there with my chin. It was… possibly the most awkward thing I had ever done. And for me, that was quite a remarkable statement.

Vibrations through the ladder told me that the mechanics at the bottom had started up after me. I scaled the ladder with a newer, more exciting kind of panic, pulling myself over missing rungs and sections– telling myself hopelessly that the coarse particles that came away on my hands were dust, not rust.

I passed where two ladders overlapped. I frowned, giving myself a moment to understand. I gave the top of the ladder a quick look, glancing back down to the bottom.

Right. Two ladders. The building was too tall for one so it has two welded together…

I knew what I had to do.

I heaved myself onto the top ladder, and, with my boot, I started to kick the lower

ladder.

Once, twice; again, a third time.

The mechanics looked up at the sound, at first angry and confused. The expressions that overcame their faces afterward, though, was like beautiful poetry, as anger melted away into sweet, shocked realisation.

After one more well-placed kick, the metal that held the two ladders together gave way in a severing crunch, and the ladder entered a metre or so of free-fall before hitting the pavement below in a loud bang, knocking the mechanics to the ground.

I stared at the chaos in shock. What did I just do?

Kan was on the ground, shouting up at me through whisps of curly red hair. She shook a fist at me like the action alone would compel me to climb back down and turn myself in.

“Evren! Don’t do this!” she screamed as I pulled myself onto the roof breathlessly. Her words faded away as I ran across the top of the building, clutching the arm like it was my very own life.

“You get your ass back here! Evren!”

“Evren!”



Quite a few hours previously…

There was something about the rain that eased Lisk’s quiet air of misery.

At least for me.

Everybody else hated it, but I was already used to being cold, wet and irritated, so at least I could have fun watching the raindrops splatter onto the pavement, while everybody else was too busy being bothered to notice the funny little patterns they made.

Around me, the street bustled with people in weather jackets, ponchos, and soaking wet hats, their wide brims cascading water down onto already sodden clothes. Everyone wore grim faces braced for the torrential weather, paying little mind to the street urchin that shivered up against the adjoining alley wall.

I looked out to the street, absently watching people pass as I ignored the Data

Tab in my hand, the projection trying to explain things I didn’t understand.

The difference between Lower Lisk and Upper Lisk was simple. Upper Lisk was on the top of the mountainside, while Lower Lisk was within it, and as someone who frequently visited both, I liked the upper streets a good deal more.

Not because of the itchy, claustrophobic feeling that being taps underground produced, but because people were more fun to watch here.

I watched as two Covieniens lead a handful of children into a diner across the street. It looked like a family, probably going out to celebrate some mundane thing like a birthday, or an anniversary. People in Upper Lisk had the money to do that, I had heard. They shook out their coats by the door and carried them inside, and then they sat down by the window, talking with their mouths and hands about topics that evidently excited them.

I looked back to my Tab as I readjusted my seat against the garbage bin I leant back against.

Well, watching people was fun. Until it wasn’t.

The Data Tab that I had carried into Lisk all those months ago was waterproof. I had discovered that when I accidentally dropped it into a puddle. It almost seemed to work better now, and it made pretending to watch Projections easier. Especially on days like these when I was forced to sit in the rain.

The holographic display was a small circle shape that projected light into the air, making up shapes and words.

Right now, a voice narrated in an overly excited kind of tone as images of planets were projected about half a foot from the Data Tab.

“The Blue Fringe conflict wasn’t classed as a war until the Furlian Republic joined, along with other smaller planets–” the voice spoke out of the Data Tab speakers, as a projection of a small planet with two moons showed up. "But anti-Scelirian planets had already formed by that time. Tel Kyarah, Covien, and others– the most notable being a large Tironian colony called Tenebra.” The image switched to a small fighter jet of some kind. “Tenebresh Fighters aided any and all planets that required support, becoming a founding pillar for an emerging Alliance.”

I swiped a hand through the air above it and the next projection popped up, glitching for a moment before it displayed a blue-white insignia, which I had been told was shaped like a stylized B.

“The Blue Fringe quickly formed its own forces,” the voice said, “and when the Entrillian Empire finally came to the Fringe’s aid, the war ended after eighteen years of struggle.”

There was a projection of a few different planets, and they grouped together in a glitchy movement. The perky, over-excited voice continued.

“The Blue Fringe forces then became the Blue Fringe Alliance, and many planets now enjoy a long fought-for freedom from the Scelirian government, and pursue independent futures.”

I sighed.

Scelirian Order that.

Entrillian Empire this.

These history projections were getting harder to watch the more I learned about why the war happened in the first place. All this information didn’t make it any easier to understand. In fact, the more I learned, the more I figured out how little I understood.

“Many heroes were lost in the conflict, and–” I turned the Data Tab off, silencing the voice. The device powered down with a few noises of resignation.

“Sorry, Lewis,” I said as I tucked the Tab into my pocket. “I tried.”

The rain dripped down my fingers, the drops making the off-white bandages around my right arm damp and heavy as I held my hand out. The droplets created a melodious sound as they fell to the pavement, reminding me of something I couldn’t remember.

The rainstorm had lasted days already, which made these upper, exposed streets of Lisk wet and sodden with water. The fabric roofs to the stalls and storefronts here had been rolled up and replaced with heavier material less likely to allow water in over their merchandise.

It appeared that although everybody was bothered by the rain, everyone was prepared for it.

I had heard that the Port, a few levels above these streets, blocked most of the bad weather when it came from the North. Its huge, hulking mass, and odd, walled yards taking the brunt of the wind and pressures.

But not today. Today the rain fell in a straight, relentless downpour, like a miserably wet love letter from the sky to the ground.

A few moments passed as I tapped my fingers on the ground, making wet, splashing noises from the action as I stared up at the sky in boredom.

That gave me an idea. “I know,” I said, smacking my wet hands on my pants. “I could’ve been a Kletisian before I went through the Astrogate.”

I clicked my fingers, nodding. “Maybe I was acting as a guide through a dangerous Sine-infested nebula when my ship was ruthlessly sucked into the storm.” I looked back up to the sky. “Maybe if I was a Kletisian before, I could stomp up to the roof of the Port and demand the rain to stop.” I smiled at the thought of me shouting at the sky. “And then everybody would love me for stopping this rain, and then they might even give me a meal.”

My fantasies about a full meal were interrupted as, somewhere above the building I was leaning against, a gutter decided it was holding too much water and dribbled its contents onto my head.

I sighed heavily.

In the end, it didn’t matter what story I invented for myself to fill my somewhat ambiguous and horrifically empty past– I was still just Evren, the useless survivor from an Astrogate that couldn’t read and still couldn’t afford a weather jacket.

Suddenly, a small chime leapt through the water-laden air of the upper street, like a small bell tolling sadly.

That was my cue.

I gathered my small bag beside me, a sad looking piece of grey fabric that had been strategically sewn to hold the odd trinket here and there. It hadnt taken me long to realise the real reason the previous owner had thrown it into the garbage– it was a prime candidate for the intergalactic ‘more holes than patches’ award.

The tolling of the chime only lasted about thirty seconds, but the sound of many feet slapping on wet pavement quickly followed, including my own.

As I passed storefronts and tavern openings, the smell of food and grease drifted out in one big, confusing mixture, along with the unique yellow light that was somewhat a trademark to Lisk. The light mixed with the haze of the rain, creating little halos around the stores and shops that I passed by.

I came to a storefront with a wide open space before it, occupied by a large and wet covered stall, and even wetter people. It was a huge piece of fabric, stretched out to create a shelter for the drab figures inside and the benches they stood at.

Around me, all kinds of people talked, and already I could hear the unmistakable tone of two Covienians bargaining.

In the middle of the temporary pavilion, a similarly temporary bench had been set up for business. Several Scavengers bartered to other Lisk inhabitants about various pieces of machinery sitting on the wooden slab.

One of the Scavengers caught my eye, beckoning me forward.

His layers of beige and grey clothing moved so gracefully compared to the stiff and faded clothes of the settlement inhabitants, and it was hard not to think it was beautiful. Even if it was just as faded, and most of it was fraying at the edges.

“Come to sell us more excellent pieces of technology?” he asked in a beautifully not-Entrillian accent. You could spot those who actually spoke the old Covienian language by the way they felt so lost in the Standard Entrillian tongue.

I squeezed forward into the makeshift tent.

It was easy to be jostled in the busy times on these more popular upper streets. But I found that planting your feet to the floor and pretending to be a big fat rock really helped.

Flicking off the cowl to my poncho, I gave the Scavenger a grin, one he was not too aloof to return. “You know me,” I said. “I sell only the finest– only the very best of what Lisk has to offer.”

The Scavenger made a motion for me to proceed, and I lifted my bag, dumping its contents onto the bench. The odd bits and mechanisms ranged from something you saw in a day-to-day Service shop, to things I had never seen before in my life until a few days ago. “These pieces come deep within the tunnels of Lisk,” I informed him, resting an elbow on the bench. “Decommissioned mining sites deep within the mountain. Old age equipment– stuff like that.”

The Scavenger examined one of the less-grubby looking pieces.

“Huh. It takes a brave lass to venture down into those lightless places.” He kept on examining the knick-knacks I had found. “Well– have anything big planned, now that Astrostorm Evren is over?”

I paused for a quick second, blinking. “No…” I said after a moment. “You?”

He shook his head, glancing up briefly. “No. Everything I know is on Covien, always has been. Storm or no storm, it makes no difference to a Scavenger.”

“That sounds nice,” I muttered.

He picked up another piece, inspecting it. “Well, this batch is better, I’ll give you that. They’re almost recognizable this time.” He picked through them, settling on what I would have called some long-lost piece of an ancient metal frying-pan handle. “This might be an elbow joint to a Humider.” He hesitated. “Or maybe it's a rotating screw for a Hauler…?”

I clicked my tongue, drawing his attention from the pieces momentarily. “I’ll have you know– I charge extra for my mystery pieces.”

He raised an amused eyebrow at me, pulling a grey box from under the bench. “Oh, do you?” He took out a few coins. “Alright, then. How about two Pieces for the lot, plus an extra Disk for the… 'mystery piece'.”

I pretended to think about it.

“Sounds fair.” I put my hand forward, and he deposited three flat pieces of currency on my wet, shaking hand.

“Always a pleasure.”

I put the money safely into my pocket– I had tried putting it in my bag once, but as I said, it had a lot of holes.

“We’ll be in the Settlement for another two days, selling down in the Grey market.” He gestured to the ground below. “The Market down in the ground level. But remember– it’s only at Tiln, and then we won’t be back for another three phases.” He paused. “So if you got something to sell, you know where to find us.”

I nodded, but he’d already shooed me away with his hand. “Who’s next?” he called into the group pushing behind me.

I stepped out of the stall just as another wave of Covienians came in, either buying the Scavenger's odd trinkets or trying to sell them more.

I stepped through a puddle that stretched across the grey ground of Upper Street, pulling my bag back over my head as I walked through the rain.

It was nicer to walk in these streets, I thought to myself, absently. At least you had the satisfaction of stomping through the puddles. Down in the Tunnel-streets, the only thing you could stomp through was grease and dust, and that usually ended with your butt on the floor and tears on your face.

Needless to say, this was much more satisfying.

The entrances into Lower Lisk were better lit than the rest of the settlement– it made them easier to find, I guessed. I happened to have it on good authority that falling into one hurt like hell, and should the lights ever go off at one of the large entrances, doing exactly that was very easy.

One would think that a railing would be installed around the four-by-four metre square cut into the floor of the street, but one would be wrong.

I stomped heavily down the Lower Lisk entrance, the metal stairs rattling with every step.

Soon, the rain disappeared, replaced with a metal, rusty roof overhead, reinforced with steel beams. The sound of ventilation units and chatter greeted my ears, and the smell of fried food drifted around me. The stairs opened into what was commonly referred to as a Tunnel-street. The concept of Tunnel-streets were just that: streets in tunnels. But it wasn’t really that simple.

Imagine a huge warehouse, and I mean a huge warehouse, about the size of a city block. Right, now that you’ve got that in your head, imagine buildings, streets and crosswalks, bridges and walkways, all thrown into that warehouse in a mind-boggling maze. Some buildings stretched up to the roof, while others didn’t, leaving space for the equipment that was somehow integral for Lower Lisk functions.

I heared that some planets actually planned things like settlements, towns and cities– but that's a memo that Covien had… definitely missed. It would be easier to find a beetle in a blackhole than finding anything you actually wanted in Lisk.

It was a huge, growling, growing, metal maze of people, shops, roads, buildings, and workshops.

My feet hit the last step, and I clutched my bag as I looked down what was commonly referred to as Market Street. Today was market day, and every store on the street, and every stall renting space, hung its wares and flaunted its rusty pieces of equipment. The yellow lights high above– and the generally positive atmosphere– gave the overall impression that people actually wanted to buy something.

It was a deceiving impression, but it worked.

I did my best to avoid people by skirting in and out of crowds, hopping lightly between stalls and storefronts. It was easy to get disorientated– there were just so

many people down here– but I found that not stopping was a great way to not get lost. Could you ever really be lost if you never stopped moving?

Faintly, I could feel something behind me. A small and unobtrusive presence that flickered in the back of my mind.

The odd, indescribable feeling was a welcome one.

I looked behind me, seeing a small moth flutter onto my shoulder, sampling the

loose fibres of my damp poncho.

I held out my hand, and it crawled on happily. “Hey, there little fella. You seem pretty chipper.” I held up the insect to get a better look at it. “Something put you in a good mood?”

It flapped its wings in response, and I assumed that was a 'yes'.

“Probably happy the Astrostorm is over, aren’t you?” I asked, and it contented itself with licking my partially wet hands. It didn’t seem very bothered by me; in fact, it didn’t seem bothered by anything.

I held up my other hand, and it climbed on, interested in the wet bandages.

“Must be nice, just being a bug.” I gave a weak laugh as the insect tried to steal a loose thread from the bandages. “Not having to care about storms or transports or mechanics…”

Someone bumped into me from behind, and the moth flew away in startlement. They turned around just as I did, their charcoal skin and teal eyes practically screaming the name Flirin.

“Watch it, kid,” he said gruffly, his hand going protectively to a few packages in his arm.

“Sorry,” I said, putting my hands up defensively. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

The Flirin had already moved on, uninterested in an apology.

I desperately wished that there was another way to get to the Lower Levels, but unless you took a shuttle, this was the bottom of the funnel that got people to the rest of Lisk. To my left, another opening in the ground led down to what I knew were the Hangar Levels, and farther down, a Tunnel-street that lead up from an even deeper, darker level.

There was only one opening I was interested in, though, and that was just ahead of me, at the very end of the street. A large mouth cut into the wall of the cavern, leading out and down, towards Lisk’s less clean and lower levels.

I started in that direction, happily finding a lull in the crowds and directing myself to the large tunnel mouth marked in neon signs. Posters clung to the damp, sticky walls, displaying things I didn’t need the skills to read to know I didn't have the Disks to buy.

Stopping just outside the tunnel mouth, I stared at one of them curiously.

It had a picture of a bottle holding a pink beverage on it. Several symbols accompanied the image, probably trying to convince the reader that it was the best thing since fried food.

I started at the sound of a whisper to my right.

“Psst! Shoeless girl!”

I searched for who had whispered– muscles tensed– and found a lanky old woman, standing behind a food stall I couldn't believe I hadn't seen.

It was a squat stall that sat on the edge of the sidewalk, perched there like some fat pigeon too lazy to take flight. Coincidentally, the food it was selling also looked like fat pigeons.

Her griddle sizzled as little disks of dough complained about the heat in a high-pitched squeal.

I sighed, blowing out a relieved breath as my muscles untensed.

“Oh, Loose,” I said, stepping up to her stall on the edge of the street. “I didn’t see you there.” Actually, I was pretty sure that the stall had appeared out of nowhere.

Loose was a tall woman, but that went without mentioning. You could spot a Covienian in a crowd by the way they scowled, and a native Covienian by the way they stood taller than everybody else, usually by a good foot or so.

Her hazy grey eyes looked at me suspiciously, and she searched me up and down before looking around the street. Seeing that no one was around, she then gave me a toothless grin. No, really– I had no idea how that woman ate.

“F-fortunate that you came to my… stall,” she said, happily flipping over the disks of dough.

I rubbed the back of my head. “Well, you kinda called me over here, Loose.”

She stopped flipping over the cakes for a moment.

“Nonsense,” she breathed quietly. “You-you just w-walked up here.”

I frowned, opening my mouth to speak as Loose went back to her frycakes. I shut my mouth silently, smiling.

“You’re right, Loose.” I shrugged. “My apologies. I forgot.”

Content, Loose spooned some kind of white sauce onto the cakes.

My stomach rumbled.

“Well, since you’re here… how-how have you been?” she asked seriously.

I blew out a breath, looking around the street absently. “I don’t know. I sold some parts to the East Scavengers? Oh! Last week I found out why they call it the Blue Fringe.”

Loose started laddling more dough onto the griddle. “Because the ghosts are blue here.”

I opened my mouth to correct her, and yet again, shut it. This time I was actually

curious.

“I didn’t know that,” I said. “Why do you think that is?”

Loose looked at me, then up the street– and then down it. She leaned over the stall, and I leaned closer, frowning as she whispered.

“Because the beetles are actually spirits. They told me.”

I blinked, nodding slowly and rubbing my chin. “You know… that would actually explain it.” I gave her an appreciative look. “I didn’t know you knew so much about Lisk.”

Loose straightened back up, shrugging casually. “I don’t know why the birds come. I hate them.”

I nodded, trying not to look as confused as I felt.

It was an expression that I had perfected in the last few months– solely because

my existence depended on not looking as stupid as I evidently was. “Yeah. I hate them, too.” I tilted my head, changing the subject. “Hey, how’s your foot doing?”

Loose reacted like she had suddenly remembered what her name was. Her eyes went wide, and her toothless mouth opened. “Right!”

Shuffling out from behind her stall, she pulled up the cuff of her flour-dusted pants, and I saw an old cut in the top of her foot. It was in the slow process of healing, but it didn’t look infected.

“As… as fine as Surface dust thanks to that-that good… cream you gave me.”

“Well, I am very pleased to hear that,” I said, looking over her stall. “Last I saw, you were down near the Shaft…?” I let the question hang in the air, and thankfully, Loose was able to pick it up.

“Well, I had to move,” she explained as she worked. “Cause-cause the Lower districts are haunted… haunted mightily b-bad.”

“Oh?” I interjected, acting surprised. “Are you sure?”

Loose scooped up the frycakes, placing them in a container I assumed kept them nice and warm. She leaned closer to me, over the bench again.

In turn, I leaned a little closer, too.

“There's a monster down there. It’s what makes the lights go funny.”

I nodded, eyebrows drawing together in a serious frown. “You know what, I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on that.”

Satisfied, Loose went back to laddling more batter onto the griddle. “Where you off to?” she asked.

I didn't remember telling her I was going anywhere, but I knew better, now, than to ask how she knew.

“Socals? Kokos? No– Loval's. I’ve started to work there, scrubbing parts.”

She nodded, like she already knew.

Who knew, maybe she already did.

“Really wish you didn’t. Them folks are bad.”

Ah. I had heard this. And not just from Loose.

I nodded.

“Yes, Loose. But beggars can’t be choosers.” I gestured at my clothes. “And I don’t dress like this because I like it.”

Loose seemed to ignore my comment.

“Say what you w-want to, girl.” Her deft fingers stirred a mixture of batter delicately. “There’s some-something different about… their mechanics.”

I folded my arms, leaning against the stall as I looked at the passing people.

“Well, they seem like everybody else to me,” I muttered. “Suspicious, mean, unapologetic.”

In the distance, I heard a large bell toll.

It was amazing to think that the bell up on Surface Side could reach the levels down here. It was less amazing when you realised there was a large hole that opened into the side of the mountain every so often to let shuttles in and out.

My mouth opened slightly.

“Wait a second–” I turned, looking towards the end of the street like it could somehow help me. “That’s the morning bell, right?”

Loose bent down to grab a few things out of the crates at her feet.

“Nope.”

I clutched the sides of my head, pulling on my hair and trying to think. “Oh no… That means it's the midday bell, and that means there's no more morning left. That means I'm supposed to have been working– for the last three hours– and that means I’m gonna lose my job.” I looked at Loose with wide eyes. “Again!”

Loose looked over to me, her eyes only a little bit startled.

I looked up at the roof, hands still entangled in my hair. “What am I gonna do?” I asked the ceiling of the street.

Beside me, Loose shrugged.

“Run?”



In the lower districts, if you can believe it, the lights were even less reliable. The ebb and flow of electricity seemed to be following some ancient rhythm, but the sporadic and unreliable pattern beat the hell out of me.

Sometimes, the lights would cut for no reason. I knew up in my head that the Astrostorms would do that, but in reality, it unnerved me– putting an odd chill in my bones.

I jogged past a few identical Bot repair shops, all equally dirty, overcrammed, and full to the brim with arguing people.

I quickened my pace as I walked past a large, open shop. It was a little less busy than the workshops around it, and was currently undergoing repairs on a wall that looked like it had been blown out into the street.

I pulled the cowl on my poncho up to cover my face, hustling past the entrance like it held some kind of infectious disease.

Bots and people milled about the street, all doing some very important things that I probably wouldn’t understand. I could feel the cold, curious gazes of modified Hauler Bots and general labour Mech. One by one they looked up and focused on me– the newcomer– and then went back to work, some of them propelled to do so by the thin, wire-like collars that sparked when they went off task.

My journey ended when I came to a very large door spilling out light, music, and the smell of hot metal. Sounds of tools and people mixed together to create the trademark sound I had come to associate with Soko's Engineering and Mech Repair.

Soko's Engineering? Kovos’ Mech repair?

Ugh, I could never remember.

I squinted as my eyes adjusted from the poor street lighting to the well-lit, crowded workshop. I tried to sneak past a shelf holding different face plates for Bots, avoiding the bench near the right wall that had a young woman working behind it. But, like usual, my ploy was quickly thwarted by the mechanic. She looked up as I hit a crate with my foot, making it scrape loudly across the greasy floor.

“Evren, where the Eth have you been?”

I poked my eyes above a face plate, looking at her through the shelf.

“Oh. Hi, Kan.” I stayed behind the shelf. “Rainy today, isn’t it?”

Kan was a mixling– something that was rarer than you might think, at least on Covien. Instead of the pointed ears and clear, brisk, vivid-blue markings that a full-blooded Tironian would have, Kan sported broken and pale disjointed markings, with the height of a Covienian. One ear was more rounded than the other, too.

Thus, Kan Oh’Krean looked quite odd– but as the street urchin that permanently wore bandages from my wrist to my neck, I didn’t really have a say in what did and didn’t look weird.

Her dull red hair was pulled into a long and messy braid, and she brushed some of the stray hairs out of her face as she pointed a driver at me.

“You want to keep this job– be on time,” she demanded. Kan put the driver into a coverall pocket, wiping her hands on her pant legs before bending down and hauling something up onto her bench. “Because when Lou Koval finds out that his mechscrubber isn’t pulling their weight" – she readjusted what was on her bench with some effort– “there’s gonna be Eth to pay.’

I nodded, gripping the straps of my bag and swallowing behind the shelf. “Of course, Kan. It… it won’t happen again.”

She looked up at me through a little curtain of dark red hair that had fallen out of her braid.

She didn’t look convinced.

I looked from side to side, trying to decide if I should say something to ease her scowl, but she made up my mind for me, nodding to the back of the shop.

“Just get to work, Evren. And remember–”

I was already moving before she could finish her sentence.

"–don’t touch anything,” I finished for her, stepping out from behind the bench, quickly making my way to the back of the workshop.

Now here’s where Loval's got confusing.

There was the shop part, where rusty shelves lined equally rusty walls– and any space that could be found between them– all filled with various Bot parts for sale, and pieces of equipment relating to Mech repair in some way.

That part was the simplest. On top of all that, divided by two large shelves holding even more pieces of equipment, there were also the actual workstations, where a handful of mechanics now worked.

But even that wasn’t the back of the shop. The real back of the shop could be found through a large metal door that I wasn’t allowed through.

Even though the workshop itself had a small factory's worth of Bot parts and equipment, for the most part, Koval's hosted its vast and unique range of Bot repairs and modifications in the back, where I had never been, and had been told, would never. At the time, Kan had said something about me not being allowed around 'sensitive pieces of equipment' and stuff.

As I walked to the back of the workstations, machinery hummed low and heavy, solitary Units standing in corners or at the end of benches, powering the tools being used by the mechanics nearby.

The air was filled with the taste of grease, and I tried to ignore it as I slowly but surely trekked to my little corner of Soval's.

Here was the most glorious and essential part of the front workshop: a stack of crates piled next to the large metal door filled with greasy, rusty Bot parts, a stool, and a wire scrubbing brush.

Here was where Koval's most trusted employee would either clean and sort the parts taken off Bots that were too useful to throw away, or scrub the parts that were too dirty to be used in present repairs, but would still need to be in the future.

I threw my bag down against the wall, and with it, my poncho– I don’t know why, I mean, it was already filled with rust stains and holes. I picked up my brush and tried to make it look like I had been working for a good few hours. Kan called it elbow grease, and said you could only get it if you used it, but I called it a strong and fierce determination to not get fired.

A few mechanics chatted absently to my left, only one of them doing their work, while two others leaned lazily against her work station.

“-yeah, and to top it all off– you heard what happened to his workshop right?” A tall, male Covienian snorted in laughter, barely able to get his words out as he tried to shift his messy blond hair out of his eyes.

The person who was actually working shook her head, short hair hardly moving with the action. “Of course you know,” she muttered absently. “Don’t you have anything better to do than gossip?”

“So what happened, Lev?” another mechanic interrupted, sipping some hot beverage from a steel cup.

The first mechanic tried to stifle a laugh. “So, you know that old Hauler Bot he’s had out in the front since the dawn of Ethreal?”

The working mechanic yanked a bolt out of the Humider machine, looking at it momentarily before glancing at the blond. “He’s been promising to get that bucket of scraps running for decades. What happened to ole' Rusty?”

“Scrapped by the authorities,” the blond mechanic said. “His mechscrubber somehow activated it–”

The mechanic with the cup snorted some of his drink. “What?” he choked.

Turning, the woman working on the Humider squinted up at the blond. “What the hell did you say?” she asked. “A mechscrubber?” She turned back to her work. “Lev, every mechanic in Lisk has tried to get that thing running– it's like a scriking right of passage.”

“Wait-” said the mechanic who was now done choking on his drink. “So there’s a mechscrubber who got ole' Rusty up and running– then where the Eth is the front of his shop?”

“Well that's the best part,” Lev said, gesturing with his hands. He seemed genuinely excited as he told the next part. “The mechscrubber activated it– no one knows how–and the thing went mad. It knocked out the front of his shop in one punch, nearly killed the scrubber, and then booked it down to the Warehouse District.” He leaned against the Humider, resting his chin atop his folded arms.

"Ole’ Rusty finally collapsed down there, thank Ethreal. I hear that’s why this new Evaluation Act is coming down so strong– because of Rusty.”

All the while that I listened to them, I quietly scrubbed away the rust from a few parts, trying not to draw attention to myself by making small, ineffective movements.

“What did he do with the mechscrubber?” asked the mechanic holding a now half-empty cup.

Lev gestured lazily with his hands. “What do you think, Gary?”

“Gave her a raise?” said the working mechanic, who had practically crawled inside of her machine and was rattling around in it noisily. “Someone who could power up that fossil has to be worth their salt,” she added absently.

“No,” Gary waved off the woman's words. “Told her to take the next slow transport to Phobia?” he guessed, taking another sip from his cup.

Lev nodded. “Fired them, obviously. Although, I’d love to pick their brain. I had a bet that if ole' Rusty ever started, it would mean the end of the Kosmoverse.”

“Maybe it did and we’re all in purgatory,” said the woman, still jammed inside the Humider.

“You’re all about to be,” snapped a familiar voice. Kan poked her head out from behind a shelf holding tools meant for soldering. “Get back to work, before Lou sees your sorry hides polishing the floor.”

Like magic, the two talking mechanics scampered back to where they were supposed to be. Unlike other days, they all seemed very obedient.

“Eth's lights–” Lev muttered, hurriedly pulling on two heavy leather gloves. “Kan is getting used to Head Mechanic, isn’t she?”

“You’re still sore about it?” said a voice now coming from inside the Humider. “Maybe start working and Lou will change his mind.”

Lev leaned down and pulled on a welding helmet, flicking down the visor with a snap.

“Lou Koval, changing his mind?” He scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”

With that said, they went to work. Gary even disappeared through the metal door without taking his half-finished drink.

I picked up a more complicated piece of mech, one that I was familiar with. It needed to be undone to be cleaned probably– like so many others– so I quickly got to work on trying to unpick it, putting all the pieces on my leg carefully.

Completely absorbed in my work, the sounds of the shop faded away into one large blur of noise. My thoughts drifted from my actions, even as my hands continued to move. I started to think about Loose’s frycakes. Oh, how they sizzled on the little stove-top, sending that good, crispy smell into the air…

“Are you any good at putting them back together, girl?” said a voice above me.

I looked up abruptly, startled enough to knock all the pieces off my lap.

“Oh, Herus Soval, I didn’t see you there.” I clutched the last Bot part in my hands, staring up at the Covienian that owned this entire workshop, and a few others.

“I asked ‘are you any good at putting them back together?'” he repeated, clasping his hands in front of him. His dark hair was short and no-nonsense, and his clothes were simple. By all accounts, he looked normal. But his voice was harsh and abrupt, making him seem distant and threatening.

“Ri-ight,” I drew the word out, mentally scrambling for the right reply as I looked back to the pieces I had knocked to the floor. I stooped to pick them up. “I think I’m better at pulling things apart, sir.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement, stroking a well trimmed beard. Lou Koval wasn’t as thin or tall as most native Covienians, but he certainly held the same air as them. Something that they all carried around like a repellent. Worked like a repellent, too.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he said, surveying me and my work like I was some kind of Bot in one of the illegally huge and hugely illegal auctions down in the Low Levels.

After that vague– and in my opinion, untrue– statement, he nodded as a sign for me to get back to work, and I obliged. Watching me for a few more of the longest seconds in my life, he left. Wordless.

I squinted at him as he left, releasing a breath.

Had Kan told him I was late? Did he know? I very rarely saw him out in this part of the shop.

After he passed them, both the mechanic working on the Humider, and Lev, looked to him as he walked to the front of the shop.

Strangely enough, they seemed to blow out a breath of relief, too.



When I'd finished, I carried my crate up to Kan’s workstation. I hovered hesitantly just a few spans from the bench strewn with the unfortunate casualties of the Head Mechanic’s projects.

A customer chatted with Kan, talking in terms and signs I didn’t understand, referencing Power Relays and failing generators down in the Warehouse District.

Easily, I hefted the box higher, carrying the weight without much thought.

Being a Geo came in handy sometimes, I guessed.

Waiting as patiently as I could, I amused myself by staring at the strange bits and boxes that were either hanging from the roof or stacked on shelves. Behind Kan’s workbench were a row of boxes, all kinds of different shapes and sizes. Some of them were marked in vibrant and electric purple, the clear and universal colour for danger. Others were less exciting, but carried an air of some exuberant story.

On the left, under a small crate holding unmatched L-Bot fingers, was a box that seemed like it had gone through a war. It had been so taped up, in a thousand different ways, and in a thousand different directions, that I was sure that ninety percent of the box was actually just tape. The labels, probably once vibrant and colourful, were faded and torn– leaving the contents of the box a mystery.

Maybe it was full of some kind of oil, hence all the tape. Maybe it was full of enchanted metals, ready to animate even the smallest Bot. Maybe it had the remains of a Kletesh monster, and Koval's was going to sell it on the grey market.

Or maybe it had been dropped one too many times, and had simply been fixed, albeit very badly.

Who knew? Not me.

Despite the intensely interesting box of tape, it was the one next to it that always pulled my attention away. Grey and plain, it seemed just like any small crate that came in and out of a mechanic’s shop, but the rushed and hurriedly engraved symbol made it stand out in a way I didn’t understand. At first, I was sure it was a very confused constellation, but upon further inspection, it appeared to be a map. No, not a map, more an insignia. It was hard to see because of all the vibrant purple warning labels on its dented surface.

I squinted up at the box, blinking in the yellow workshop light as I tried to puzzle together a nonexistent problem.

“Evren!”

My acute focus was spun from my grasp. Swinging my attention back to Kan, she looked at me with her hands on her hips, and a look of annoyed perplexion on her face.

“I said,” Kan repeated tersely, “are you done with the Mech parts?”

I shook myself out of my daze. I hadn’t even realised she had been talking to me.

“Oh- yeah… I am.” I pushed myself onto my tip toes as I heaved the crate onto the bench. It thudded down heavily onto the grease laden surface.

Kan examined them with all the scrutiny I thought could exist in the universe.

“You only cleaned one crate,” she said flatly, eyeing an elbow joint I had tried to put back together.

Judging by her expression, I think I did it wrong.

She picked through a few odd pieces, jaw moving wordlessly as she ground her teeth in thought. “We,” she said at last, “had three more boxes to do.” She rested her hands on the sides of the box. “You did well, but you were very late.”

I beamed up at her. “Well, thank you.” My look was replaced with one of concern as I finished processing all her words.

“I was… how late?”

The Head Mechanic didn’t ignore my smile, instead she rewarded it with a frown. I watched as she opened up a tin box behind the bench, fishing through it for coins.

“Late enough that I should tell Lou that his mechscrubber isn’t fulfilling her duties.”

She handed me three small coins, rimmed in white polyplast, and raised an eyebrow.

“You didn't finish the crates. You only get half today.”

I looked at the three Disks.

This wasn’t even enough for a bottle of water.

I placed my hands on the bench, looking up at the tall half-Tironian. “It won’t happen again,” I pleaded. “I got distracted! I was up on the Surface– it, it was raining–”

Kan held up her hands.

“I told Lou that I would keep an eye on you for several reasons. Making sure that you show up for work is one of them.” She leaned over the bench slightly, resting her arm on the crate tiredly as she shook her head.

“This isn’t even the first time this has happened.”

Shock chased all the emotion from my face. I opened my mouth like a cold dead fish in surprise, mentally flopping around as I searched for words to excuse myself.

“But I–”

“Look, kid. The fact of the matter is that even though you came in today, there are still boxes that need cleaning.” She folded her arms. “Lou Koval doesn’t like that.”

“Then I’ll clean them now!”

Kan leaned on my crate of Mech parts, and for some reason, she seemed unimpressed. “You’ve been here for the past six hours,” she informed me. “Did you know that?”

I licked my dry lips as I tried to think about it.

No. No I didn’t.

“I can clean them now,” I repeated with a little more volume and passion than I intended. “Please, Kan, I need this so badly. I–”

The mechanic seemed amused. “You don’t think I’m going to let you stay in the shop while we close for Tiln, do you?” She scoffed, watching me as I looked up at her helplessly.

As I had nothing to say to that, Kan just sighed.

She held up a hand lazily, still leaning against the crate. “Hold it. If you really wanna redeem yourself, fine. You can come back after the dinner break. And if you can clean them before we close the shop, I won’t tell Lou why they were so late in the first place. ”

“Thank you!” I signed jubilantly. “I will be here the moment dinner break is over.”

Kan rolled her eyes as she pulled the cleaned parts off the bench. “Yeah, yeah– sure.”

I examined the coins as Kan’s heavy footsteps echoed away into the still busy workshop. I closed my fingers over my meagre wage.

Right, I said in my head. After the dinner break.

I fingered the Disks Kan gave me through the fabric of my pants pocket, fighting a smile as I walked through the busy evening crowd.

Nothing could improve a mood like the guarantee of dinner.

I came up to a vacant waiting area for the rusty lifts that tumbled up and down the mountain. Right now, the lift seemed to be busy down on the Lower Levels, if the glitchy indicator panel was anything to go by.

I shrugged mentally.

That was fine. I had been on this dust ball nearly six months– I was no stranger to the rickety service stairs that stretched up and down on the outside of the mountain settlement.

I directed myself happily to the service stairs on the right that led away and out of the level– into the fresh, albeit dusty, night air– and my smile died away.

Three familiar figures blocked my path.

Their tall, skinny silhouettes marked them as native blood, and their grease covered clothes marked them as mechanics.

They all wore the same expression, and it was one of contempt.

“Oh, hey, guys–” Laughing nervously, I took an experimental step back, rubbing the nape of my neck as I mentally envisioned myself being thrown off the cliff docks.

“I was– I was just on my way to see Del–”

I bumped into something behind me. Turning, I saw it was another person– not Covienian, but tall enough to be considered one. It was another Geo, but he wore the same uniform as his companions.

“Del!” I exclaimed, backing away from the old man and shaking a finger at him loosely. “Boy, I am glad to see you.”

The old man wore an expression that assured me he did not share the same sentiment. Between his grizzled expression and scraggly grey beard, he was the epitome of a greasy workshop owner.

“You told us four weeks, Iot," he growled. “Where is it?”

The Geo’s markings were hard to see because of his beard, but I could see the bold and dark geometric lines that ran down the bridge of his nose and spread out over his cheekbones, their length and shape marking his age.

As I stared helplessly up at the towering Geo, I could hear the mechanics shuffle closer behind me.

I scratched the top of my head, tilting my face to one side in thought. “Has it– has it already been four weeks?” I blew out a breath that turned more into a laugh.

“Wow! I uh– I hadn’t realised.”

Del didn’t seem amused in any kind of way that mattered. He put his hands on his hips, studying me under his dark eyes. After a moment, he spoke.

“I just want the rest of the money, girl. That's all. You said you could have the rest of what you owed in four weeks. So here we are. And here you are.”

“Ah, yes. I see. Well, I know what this looks like, but I actually don’t have the money on me.”

Del nodded to one of his companions, and I could feel someone grab the back of my shirt, and I was lifted off the ground.

Very quickly, I decided it was best to change tactics.

“Oh, well– you know what, I think I have a little right here! I forgot I had it in my pocket–heh! Here we are!”

Trying to hold my weight on my tiptoes, I took out the few Disks that Kan had given me, plus a few more from yesterday's wages.

My precious fund for dinner. It was about, I thought, a laughable fraction of what I owed him. I placed it on his outstretched hand and patted it a few times.

“There you go.” My voice was a little higher, now, for some reason.

His fist tightened on the Disks, and his eyes bored into mine.

“This… is it?”

I nodded, shrugging. “Yeah well, you know, I didn't really get paid a whole lot after I got fired from my old job.”

Del frowned, and nodded to someone behind me.

“Check her pockets. I don't believe her.”

Someone grabbed my arms before I could wriggle away, and my pockets were swiftly checked. “Hey– hey!” I exclaimed. “I said I don't have anything!”

Six shining coins, rimmed in black polyplast, glimmered in the yellow light, all taken from my opposite pocket where I had put them there this morning at the Scavenger's tent. They weren’t Disks, they were Pieces, and they were worth so. much. more.

Del made a noise of surprise.

“Oh, that looks like a bit more than nothing.” He nodded for my release, and I was thrown heavily onto the ground, hitting my wrist painfully.

“Wait– but I need that money–" I righted myself, pushing myself onto my elbows and looking up at Del.

He knelt down next to me.

“That Hauler Bot,” Del breathed, trying to keep calm, “was important to me.”

I shook my head, still on the ground. “But it was an accident, Del–”

Del shook his fist angrily, interrupting me.

“Do you think this can make up for what you did? Forget the Hauler Bot!” he fumed. “My entire workshop wall got blown out by a slimy little mechscrubber– stopping my livelihood– in the middle of an Astrostorm!”

Del straightened to his full height, and I looked down at the ground, listening to the mechanic speak as I studied my hands. “You better be thankful that I didn’t demand more, Offworlder.”

Staring at the ground, I listened as Del and his mechanics' footsteps receded, some invisible glue keeping me from standing.

Of course, what I really wanted to do was get up, shake my fist and tell em’ they… were being… mean.

I sighed, rolling onto my back and covering my eyes with my elbow. “Stupid Hauler Bot.”

Straightening into a sitting position, I rubbed the wrist that I had fallen on. It didn’t seem seriously injured, but it still ached.

A handful of people passed me on their way to the lift, which came and went as I watched. They barely spared me a glance.

The only thing that seemed to pay me any mind was a bronze and green beetle that raced around my legs like it was entered in some invisible race and it was about to win. I let it crawl onto my hands, its long brown tongue sampling the rust under my fingernails.

I sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Gods in Eth, they are mean,” I breathed out. “That was the last of my money.”

The beetle seemed to agree, flapping its wings in agitation.

I started rubbing my eyes harder. “And… I don’t care about the Disks– it’s just that they–” I took my hand down from my face, blowing out another long and tired breath.

"They ruined my good mood.”

That was just too much for the beetle, who in response to my statement, took off in indignant anger– obviously flapping his way to avenge my misery and bring justice to my enemies.

“Glad to see you care!” I called out after it, watching it take flight in the hazy yellow light of Lower Lisk.

I picked myself off the ground, checking my pocket hopefully to see if Del and his mechanics had missed anything. My fingers pulled out pocket lint and cracker crumbs.

As the lift pulled down to my level– finally– I climbed onboard dejectedly, and found myself wondering if the Vending Units would take pocket lint as payment.

My stomach rumbled, and to distract myself, I looked at the posters on the inside of the lift. There was a poster advertising some development for the Port.

Thinking about the Port made me think about the Vending Unit there.

I turned away from it, pointedly looking at something else.

I wasn’t that hungry.

My stomach rumbled again, calling me out on my lie.

I was that hungry.