(Here's the
OOC)
“Too many times have I looked at the horizon to the Spiral beyond. I have gone there only to be driven away, back to my home and prison. Is it wrong that I want to live in the spatial wilds? Is it wrong for me to live free from the people, and the filth, and the drudgery? I look to the infinite Spiral and wonder if I have to go beyond our cage to find a place solely for myself.”
-Captain Fairdale on the con-ship
Flattery before he set off alone, 439 RC.
Ruin
Day 1
On the far north side of the world city Ruin the estates of Center Piece lifted up past the rim of the Spiral. As the first rays of light from Amalgam hit its towers and glass, Center Piece began to glitter and sparkle. The jewel of Ruin cast it’s gaze over the rubble and rubbish that surrounded it with pompous arrogance. As Center Piece continued to push past the rim it heralded the beginning of a new day.
In Ruin beyond windows on the surface opened to the light of a new day and the inhabitants looked up into the mottled orange, purple, green, and blue haze that comprised Ruin’s sky. On the surface vents also opened to let the sunlight streak down their mirrored corridors and into the caverns and warrens that made up the under layers of the city. Positioned mirrors at the ends of the tunnels sent the light out over the under cities and into refractions balls. Each became a mini sun, a miniature reflection of the might of Amalgam.
The world city woke sluggishly. It still spun slowly on it’s sideways axis and Center Piece would enjoy the full fifteen hours of light it deserved, but this was no time for lazing in the sun. Across Ruin there was work to be done.
Factory whistles sounded in a cacophony of cries, signaling workers to rouse themselves for their shifts. Before them the quicker cooks and merchants readied their shops for the influx of bodies that needed sustenance or goods. The streets and alleys of Ruin bloomed with banners of red, blue, or green while the electronic signs that had illuminated the night were chased away. In the wealthier parts of the city holograms sputtered to life, scorning the fabric of the lower districts with appeals that spoke with a voice.
When the second round of whistles came the sudden bloom ended and the colors died away. In the wake of motion the guild workers began to rouse themselves from their slumber. In his small, single room shack, Jordan Slurlman woke with them.
As he lifted himself from the hard comfort of his floor mat, Jordan groaned and rubbed wakefulness into his eyes. They rebelled, puffy and blurred, and forced Jordan to stumble through his home to his window. When he did finally reach it and open it, he was nearly blinded by the shining light of the refraction orb. The workers of this part of the city still hadn’t fixed the thing yet.
Subsection 43’s refraction orb was a greedy thing and had always gorged on the sunlight while giving back only a minimum in return. Now that it had been “worked on” it refracted too much and wrapped 43 in an uncomfortable heat. Ignoring the blinding light, Jordan reached for his junction box outside his window and guided the handing thing, along with it’s wire, into the receptacle on the side of his house. When it was in place Jrodan’s house came to life.
The laundry from last night swayed in the new breeze from the fan while the dirty water from the laundry pot was sucked into a purifier below. While the water was cleaned and made useable again, Jordan snacked on the left over bread and meat roll from last night. It was a little stale and hard, even after being left in Jordan’s coolant rub. While Jordan finished his short meal the filter dinged on cue and poured into a large pail next to the pot.
Jordan dipped a glass into the pail and washed down the food bits still in his mouth. Yawning once, Jordan snatched his nearly dry clothes from the line and dressed quickly. A few moments later Jordan was out the door with his guild vest and pack on his back. Before he left Jordan pulled his junction box free from his outer wall.
Out amongst the shacks the other adults that worked for Weesog were also on the way to the squat building that had one time served as the home to all of them. Jordan looked over his adopted brothers and sisters, making sure everyone was up, before joining them. It was about a mile to the office, past the five complexes that held up the roof of Subsection 43. They were all used to the walk and among the older tacks there was a morning ritual to attend to.
As they passed the edge of the first complex the tacks formed up and charged past their fellows. The impromptu race happened every morning as they headed to work. It may have seemed childish to the others, but to Jordan and the other tacks it was a matter of pride. Woe be to the tack that couldn’t run the remainder of the distance in a three minutes flat.
All the tacks knew that their legs were their life. If they couldn’t handle the run, then they were too slow to trek across Ruin like they normally did. What was worse was that they wouldn’t be able to outrun the gangs that would harass them on their routes. It didn’t matter who won, just so long as they did it.
Waiting for all of them at the door was Weesog and the children that lived in the building. In the rising heat of the over acting refractor globe, Weesog’s bright green flesh was already covered with a thin, gray sheen of sweat. He silently handed out last night’s orders with a mental push. It was obvious that the vench looked distracted and kept glancing towards Jordan. Jordan quietly shifted to the back of the line and waited for the others to take off on their errands or to go inside to filter through the new orders that were already coming through the mail tubes.
Without needing to motion Jordan away from the building, Weesog left the doorway and heaved himself to a side street. Jordan followed as he was expected, a little bit of anticipation sweeping over him a he wondered just what was so important to ask him out of sight and earshot of the others. However, Weesog started with some old business that Jordan thought was settled.
“Have you decided to accept my offer and take over the office with Reg, Jess, and Viki?”
Jordan’s face creased with annoyance at the topic of “the offer” and resigned himself to explain his feelings again, “I told you Weesog. I don’t want it. I’m happy where I am. It’s just a lot more work than I’m willing to do.”
“You already ‘do’ most of the work,” Weesog retorted, “You’ve nearly taken over running this place for me. Reg and the others can fill in for me when I retire, but with you they can make this guild great. One day you’ll be like me and learn that you aren’t young any more. It’s best that you get an early start at the head of a guild than trying to move up later when you can’t keep up with the other tacks anymore.”
“Look, it’s my life and I’ll do what I want to with it,” Jordan spat, keeping his anger in check, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to stay a tack and unless you fire me its going to be what I’m doing for as long as I can. Now do you have some work for me?”
Weesog’s mouth parts scrunched up as the vench was going to say something back, but he held it in and floated a sealed note to Jordan instead, “It’s from Professor Salarishkay, that elf at the school in Sub 2 West. One of his brothers had a sample for him, but couldn’t make it to the school before having to turn back due to a nutrient crash. He left the package in an alley way, but has been too root ridden to go back and show Sal where to look for it. You know the drill. Find it and deliver it.”
With that Jordan and Weesog turned from each other and walked away. Weesog headed back to the office and Jordan headed to the north transit gate. They had more to say, but both were too stubborn and proud to admit it.