She had graduated from high school two years earlier. While in school, she took on clients. After graduating, she continued working. Jazelle was the youngest and choppiest one in the block. She was speedy and diligent. Sometimes, clients complained about her unconventional approach to materials (she used barbed wire for fastening things one time). But she was starting to garner a good reputation in the community.

Jazelle opened up the shutters of her shop. Unexpectedly, she heard the sound of squeaks and steps behind her. She turned around cautiously. Today, The Works, the mechanical, dingier area of town wasn’t as crowded. Jazelle’s was the only shop open, and behind her were two people lingering in her trail. One was a mother. Jazelle looked at her; her hair was greyed, and she wore a shawl around her head like a headscarf. She was covered from head to toe, and her clothes did not look the greatest. They look worn and travelled. Next to her was the daughter. She was ten. She had a wide, long forehead, and her blond hair was long, reaching past her waist. Her eyes looked up sharply, inquisitive. She was fastened to a wheelchair. Jazelle normally wouldn’t have paid attention, but it was a mother and child; she couldn’t refuse. 

"What do you want?" Jazelle asked. Her voice was sharp and gruff, like the noisy interior of her workshop. She shook her head, pulled out her auto-tool, and continued melding metal. This interested her more than the people in front of her.

 The girl responded. "You fix receptors?"

Receptors. Communication-based devices with lots of aluminium resistors. 

Tricky, but doable.

 "Yes,"Jazelle responded. "What type?"

The girl swallowed, eyes steady on Jazelle. "An advanced model. MG-273."

The latest one in the market broke that fast? Jazelle was surprised. 

"Price?"

"250 silver."

In cash, not digital payment. Didn’t want to be traced.

"And why me?" Jazelle inquired.

 The girl looked at Jazelle as if she had always been there. 

"Seems like you’re new here. Thought you’d have the highest-tech."

She didn’t speak like a ten-year-old. Lior didn’t either.

Jazelle looked at the girl’s hand. There was a tattoo similar to what the teenagers had in the alley. Jazelle gripped her auto-tool tighter. She pretended to stare at the wooden workbench in front of her. In Sun-Downe, it was rude to ask about other people’s business. Jazelle started to feel another headache. The dulling ache was becoming a miasma spreading in her brain. The headache was becoming part of her. The girl noticed Jazelle staring at her hand, then, with her peering eyes, she looked back up at Jazelle.

 "I see," the girl said. "You aren’t aware of it yet."

 Jazelle was surprised by the statement. 

What do you mean? She wanted to ask. 

Jazelle heard gears clacking, twisting, and spinning in her head. It was the hammered works all over again.

The girl passed a covered device to Jazelle. It was small, but heavy. Jazelle guessed it weighed at least 2.5 kilos on its own.

 "I’ll be back to pay," the girl said. “Hide, and fix that in your shop. I’ll be back."

The mother pushed her daughter in the wheelchair. As they walked away, the girl suddenly held up her hand, causing her wheelchair to come to a halt. They paused for a minute or two. The girl from her wheelchair, sharply turned to face Jazelle.

 "You should close shop soon," the girl said. "Danger is coming."

The girl uttered those words, and the duo left.

Jazelle thought about these words carefully, but didn’t pay too much attention to them. After, she realised her mistake.

Hours later, when she was trying to tinker with her machines. She saw the flashing of red-and-blue patrol lights. For the first time, the security force arrived in The Works. That day, as patrol forces barged in, the city she loved so much turned into shambles. They trampled over everything. The security force wasn’t meant to show up in Sun-Downe. It was a division of the provincial government, and usually Sun-Downe was exempt from this rule, including all its day-to-day illicit activities.

She saw a detective, in a long black coat, questioning everyone at The Works. Again and again, he opened his Digi-Tele-Communicator files and shoved the holographic digital files of the suspects into everyone’s faces. He questioned each mechanic individually. He came across Jazelle while she was in the middle of her work. She was finishing orders from the previous day.

The detective stood over her. He was in his mid-forties, but his head was full of combed-back hair. Despite the weather, he managed to wear a full-length coat. Jazelle wondered whether this was the fashion outside of Sun-Downe. It seemed like the majority of the people that stood out to her were covered head-to-toe. The detective stared down at Jazelle. Now fifteen, she had a round face with a sharp chin. Her face was bordered with a straight fringe, with two asymmetric bangs angled away from her face. Her hair extended long at the front and short at the back. Her fashion was unlike that of other girls her age. Bob-cut. A comfortable, baggy, military-style tank top, and baggy cargo pants. Practical and suitable for the dusty climate.

Jazelle looked at the detective with a fierceness that surprised the detective himself. Her hair was shaggy, her eyes were large, and her face was scattered with freckles, which gave her a likable disposition. What was surprising was the way Jazelle looked at him with steadiness. It was do or die. Jazelle was young. Detective Tru noticed this and approached differently. 

His hand extended towards her. He smiled.  

"Nice to meet you." Jazelle ignored his hand. "I’m Detective Tru."

Detective Tru repeated what he did with the others. He opened his Digi-telecommunications device fastened to his wrist, brought up two files, then sent them over to Jazelle. 

"I’m looking for information about these 2 suspects. If you have any information, let me know."

Jazelle’s face glowed with neon-blue light. Her eyes scanned the holographic text in front of her. There were no images, but the description burned into her viscera.

Female. Around 30. Long silver hair tied in a bun. Fair-disposition.

Female. Child. Age 10. Waist-length hair. Huge blue eyes.

Jazelle read and looked at the pixelated blanks between each of the letters. As she looked at the blanks, she filled in the gaps in her memory. Like a flash of bright light, the realisation dawned on her who the suspects were. The holographic screen sliced between her and the detective. Jazelle looked at the detective through the transparent screen. 

She extended her finger and flicked the screen back to Detective Tru.

 "Haven’t seen them," she shook her hands. Jazelle busied her hands on her workstation. She cleared out some of the items and dusted her workshop before working on her next project. She looked down. "But sure, if I have something, I’ll let you know."

Detective Tru wanted to question further, but one of his subordinates ran over and whispered some information in his ear. The detective briefly looked at Jazelle, then ran towards the location where his subordinate was standing.

Jazelle remained crouched on the stool at the front of her workshop, back facing the remains of workshop chaos. There, at the back of the workshop, in a corner, carefully stashed amongst a pile of things, lay an object bulged by cloth. Compared to the other items in the shop, it stood out like a glaring anomaly. She remembered how she touched it and cradled its curvature on the palm of her hand. Previously, she tossed it like a ball from one hand to another. It was weighted on the left compared to the right. She remembered the various intricacies that lay beneath its surface. Jazelle felt the tech in her veins.

After the detectives cleared the area, she turned around, took a few steps forward, and looked at the spot with excitement. She felt the adrenaline rush to her head. Jazelle took several steps back until her knees buckled. She slumped against the wall. Her heart thumped fast against her ribs, and her face was slick with sweat. She exhaled and sighed.

"What a day!" she exclaimed, crackling in nervous laughter.

The Works in Sun-Downe was an absolute mess, with business obstructed, lanes blocked by warning hurdles, and the flashing sirens of security patrol.

Business closed.