Fever gone, and mood lightened, Tyler felt a slight spring to his step as he washed the dishes. There was a small, half-partitioned area for that, rounding the main supporting pillar. Tyler hummed as he squatted on the ground, scrubbing the pot, idly watching the clothesline fluttering in the wind.

The abodes of the Echelon stood in the distance, far beyond the billowing off-whites and sandy shades that were the most of Kovan’s and his wardrobe. About a fifteen to twenty yard distance separated the somewhat orderly rows and columns of towering, stacked disks. But even across the vast stretch, the riches encapsulated within each disk, were still visible.

Most of the curtains were drawn open, flashy opulence catching the morning sunrays, forming a broad kaleidoscope of colors. And the affluent folk, standing as tall as his pinky, seemed to have a leisurely time, resting at stationary or moving unhurriedly across their disks. Only their bondsmen and workmen hurried around, busying about the disks or moving up and down the elevator platforms.

Tyler felt a strange twist in his lips, comparing them to how it was, here in Kovan’s place. He wondered what the folks across might think, seeing the sparse, almost ascetic-like interiors. And what they might say, if they knew Tyler was a bondsman who did nothing else but train.

If he was not brought outside State dwellings for race practice, he was cooped up within the disk, either working out, scrubbing invisible dirt off the walls and floors, or absentmindedly watching the dazzling, bustling scenery like what he was doing now.

He was already done with cleaning the pots and bowls, but he made no move to get up to put them away, not in any hurry since it wasn’t as if Kovan ordered him to do so. He stepped away from the washing area and plunked himself near the outer rim, legs crossed beneath his thighs.

Tyler especially liked to watch the jet-sedans cruising through the space in between the towers. He often fantasized about what it must be like to have a hand crafting the magnificent rides of the rich.

As a former conveyance-crafter hired in a workshop in the Lower quadrant, Tyler never had the opportunity to brush against such fine aesthetics. Their customers couldn’t afford the luxury after all, so any work done, was only done so out of practicality.

There had only ever been but one wealthy customer who brought his expansive air-craft to their humble workshop. A long-time customer of the workshop, who came in at irregular times, with a permanent flirtatious smile and wandering hands that always sought his bum. Tyler was most vexed by the shameless behavior of that man, yet he secretly counted the days to his visits, missing his enigmatic air-craft.

In the middle of reminiscing such happier days, Tyler lost focus on the flight pane, until a strange noise reached his ears, followed by an astounding sight that crept in from the far corners of his gaze.

Of course Tyler would be called to full attention – the incoming air-craft was huge!

His jaw dropped at the vessel that was nearly five times the average size of typical conveyance rides. The mammoth air-craft cruised along slowly, likely not able to go any faster because of its size. Tyler could almost feel its massive weight, watching it crawl languidly, as if straining to remain afloat. He leaned forward excitedly, scooting all the way to the edge, legs dangling over precariously as he quickly studied the amazing build.

It gradually neared, giving Tyler a good view of its gleaming skeletal carriage and lavishly embroidered skin stretched taut against it. The underbelly was supported by enormous air sacs that were inflated to the size of a cloud. Multiple giant rotary blades spun beneath the giant air belly, and long, broad wings flapping diagonally gave it additional elevation.

Tyler watched in awe, marveling at the technical prowess poured into it and felt a dull ache run through his fingers.

How he wished he had been a part of the crew building it. If he still had the dexterity of his fingers, such was a dream that would not be too far-fetched.

Unfortunately, the reality set in stone like the sun moving along west to east, prevented such optimism to take hold. Since he had that accident, the opportunity was gone before he could even try, like sand slipping in between his fingers.

As much as it pained him, Tyler could not tear his gaze away, eyeing it longingly like a starving man kept from his toys.

Thankfully, something else of interest pulled him from forlorn.

Atop the polished, veneer deck, were a small group of Echelon scattered in between four giant masts. And overlaying the masts – which controlled direction and provided aerial push – were gigantic panes of lighted imagery fronting a magnified view of several people. The images were stunningly life-like, and changed after several seconds as if giving each person adequate show.

A fifth lighted imagery hung in a half-sphere above the masts, and this one featured only one person, whose mouth and arms moved animatedly, accompanied by an echoing, booming speech that quickly increased in volume and clarity.

The man was reading off names with much enthusiasm, introducing the faces shown on the masts like a commentator of some all important event. It was suddenly apparent that all the faces enlarged in the fractal presentation, were the same folks on deck.

“So I see, it has begun.”

Tyler tilted his head upwards and blinked at Kovan who had come up behind his shoulder.

“What has begun?”

“Seat election. For inclusion into the Council.”

“Hmm.” Tyler snapped his head back to the convoy, interests piqued tenfold. That explained the scale of the conveyance ride, and the showy investment of Link-ore implementation.

And he was reminded there was indeed an election of some sort every three years, which decided on folks who would influence matters of State. It was just he never used to take interest because it was limited within the Echelon only, so such proceedings never reached the Lower quadrants.

Plus, nothing seemed to change for the lower classes over the years. It probably wouldn’t better their lives now either, but at least, the incidental timing provided promise of much spectacle. What better way to fill up his spare time than seeing this right up front. It would fill up gaps and pictures from the heresy he had gathered in the Lower dwellings thus far.

Questions suddenly filled his mind. But he started with the one that nagged at him the loudest.

“That man in the fractal image – the main one, hanging above the rest, that’s Hector, isn’t he?”

“How did you know it was him?” came Kovan’s surprised tone, “I don’t think I heard him introduce himself near our stretch.”

Tyler shrugged. “Just a wild guess.”

He had seen Hector with his face obscured by a fractal mask, back at the opening party. Still, he thought he recognized his bearing, the way he stood with poise and with lively limbs that flexed energetically. Seeing him gave confirmation that his earlier guess about his age, was correct. With platinum blonde hair streaked with silver, Hector was just exiting late prime. Yet, his excitable energy suggested a man who would still be very much buoyant, and in the vigor of health, well into his silver years.

Perhaps that was why he was selected to host events. Either that, or he must really be someone with a lot of influence.

Thinking that gave pause for wonder. Might the election be the reason Kovan sought Hector’s attention at the party?

Tyler turned his head to Kovan again to ask.

However, the words died on his lips, seeing a sharp gaze concentrated at the convoy, lips set into a fine line.

Sharp and calculating. Thoughts unfathomable, though appeared to lean towards profound displeasure.

Tyler flinched, nearly forgetting the man had the capability to make him both distressed and unnerved, with just one look.

He had seen it just but once before, in the recuperation ward. He recalled how he roared in his bed, protesting the transfer of his contract from State, to Kovan. The latter gave him that look right then and there, shutting him up instantly.

The next time he saw Owner, was eight months later, and though he bore no piercing look as chilling as the prior one, he seemed rather aloof, always watching Tyler with assessing eyes like he was studying an animal. He gradually softened after the first week, gaze lightened with friendliness, as if the earlier days was a transitional period he needed to warm up to him. Or, he could have evaluated something that made him relax around Tyler.

Whichever it was, Tyler had no idea. And in any case, upon Kovan’s softening, he took advantage of his patience and pleasant nature, forgetting about the stony gaze, until now.

Seeing it again, made an innate shiver run in between Tyler’s shoulder blades and down his back. There was an unnatural quality, to the austerity of his glare, that made Tyler ponder what in the world could have brought that out.