Jazelle returned that evening with boots heavy, dragging on dirt. The Works was a place full of scavenging and innovation. The community there supported her. After school, she dropped by and talked to the mechanics in the area. They taught her all she needed to know about functional machinery, metal on flame, and the mess of wires.

Now, it was The ScrewWorks. Ransacked from the inside out, many left their stores because of the chaos. Some were contracted on a rotational basis. Jazelle was lucky; she could still work from home, but she missed her sanctuary. Wood, smoke, and grime were her vices. The heat was tolerable as long as she had something to work on. She liked working while listening to metal clinking in the background. It was chaos, but it was chaos she liked.

That evening when she left, everything was different. The Works was now scrap and dust. Security patrol left, but the barricades remained. Jazelle heard buzzing. Overhead, security drones flew. They looked like wasps. Their wings hummed with an unnatural high-pitch frequency. Jazelle could feel the camera rotating and zooming in on her, identifying her as an invalid. She sighed, jerked her head, then walked off to the docking zone.

She carried everything in her backpack: the suspects’ receptor, her auto-tool, a cranberry energy drink, and a few other sets of machinery. She reached into her side pocket to pull out a mechanical sphere. The sphere fit perfectly in her hand. It was adorned with asymmetrical, connected geometric lines. Within the lines, the machine pulsed blue and black. Jazelle ran her thumb on the curvature of the sphere until she felt a dent, and pressed hard. The sphere unlocked and unravelled. It flashed a bright blue light on Jazelle.

“Owner. Jazelle. Identified.”

This was an Astrolab. Jazelle invented it herself. She was proud of it.

The Astrolab scanned Jazelle. “No deformities or defects detected. Beginning calibration.”

A ring of light surrounded Jazelle.

The Astrolab continued scanning her. “Scanning completed.”

Jazelle moved her arms up and down; they felt weightier than usual — exactly what she wanted. She moved her left arm to the left, and a screen appeared before her eyes. The screen was a visor. Her vision was obstructed by a transparent blue screen. She could still see what was in front of her, but as she moved, the compass pointer changed direction. She saw various statistics such as her oxygen levels, heart rate, and battery life.

“Oxygen 96%. Heart beating at 68 beats per minute. Boarding ready.”

Jazelle clung onto the Astrolab and threw it in front of her with maximum-force. The Astrolab landed on the floor with strong impact, unravelling its mechanical wings. Jazelle ran. The Astrolab zoomed ahead, and Jazelle ran to catch up to it. The sphere had unwound into a smooth, sleek board. As Jazelle matched its pace, she jumped onto it, left leg first, right leg back: goofy. She swayed the board side-to-side and pressed her left leg down on the board to accelerate, then pushed her right leg down to change direction, pointing her board skyward. Wind rushed through her hair. Jazelle dodged several misplaced pipes running through walls. A patch of sky was ahead.

“Destination home,” she said.

“Confirmed. 15 minutes to destination. Route on screen.”

Jazelle saw a thin blue line in front of her; it twisted in multiple directions through jagged gaps in the city. In Sun-Downe, there were motorbikes and airships; she better watch her route. Jazelle steadied herself. She dodged and criss-crossed grunge-filled alleyways, oncoming construction, and ducked under people hanging lines of laundry.

Her morning and evening commute were the favourite parts of her routine. Here, she could stretch out her hands and view the city from a distance. Life wasn’t bad when you had a good view. It gave it a new perspective.

A few minutes later, Jazelle arrived at The Overview. It was located quite a distance from the city. A few years after Jazelle arrived, the community’s inhabitants managed to pool their resources and purchase a community airship. Soon after, with the help of some Engineers they managed to build a mechanical landing port. It was scrappy, but well-put together. Jazelle raised her left arm to halt her Astrolab, then raised and lowered her left arm to descend. The Astrolab hovered above the ground before she jumped off, and with a click of her fingers, the board folded onto itself. Her boots hit the metallic ground as she walked over and snatched it off the ground.

She clung to the strap of her backpack and recounted the events of the day. Should she work tomorrow? With the situation, it was uncertain. Jazelle looked ahead and stopped in her tracks. Up on the path leading to her home, a square full of light shone in the distance. She grimaced. Jazelle looked behind her. It was dark, all the neighbours' lights were out, and hers was the only one shining. She stared at the lit-window and saw a silhouette scurrying about. Jazelle crouched slowly towards her house.

Without looking back, she placed her Astrolab into the left side pocket of her bag. Using her right hand, she reached into her right-side pocket and pulled out a long steel rod. It was textured along its hilt, with a handle on one end, and a set of hacky prongs on the other. She swiped along the handle to test whether it was working. The rod lit up with a sharp current. Electricity zapped between its pronged ends. Jazelle swiped down on the handle to turn it off.

Jazelle crouched slowly towards her house. She leaned her head against the door and listened in. No noise. Her hand touched the metallic knob, and she dialled it inch-by-inch. The door opened. Right by the entrance was a pair of muddy boots: one was upright, the other lay on its side. Looking at the dining room, she rushed in, swept out her rod, and pointed it at the suspect. The suspect turned around. The apartment was small, with only room for two. Jazelle looked at the person in front of her.

She sat in a chair. Elbow propped to the side, as if she was expecting her. Her hair was thin and curved out in waves. Her skin looked pale and sickly in pallor. She was dressed in all black: long leather trenchcoat, turtleneck, and neat-rimmed trousers. Her eyes resembled obsidian. Her lips sat still, her gaze omniscient. A thick strand of hair ran from the top of her head, parting down her nose and past her shoulders like a cracked porcelain vase.

“Place that away from me,” she said. “You shouldn’t be impolite to guests.”

Cool electricity sparked from the rod and glowed in Lior’s face like an avalanche. Current shot between the prongs like branches extending from a tree. It made Lior’s face look grotesque, like deeply creased paper-mâche.

Jazelle continued to hold the rod above Lior’s face. Jazelle’s expression was defiant. Her lips curled back, deep-set. After a few moments, she drew the rod away, then swiped down the handle. The rod turned off. She tossed her rod and backpack to the ground, then turned away to face the kitchen. Jazelle switched the kettle on and started opening and closing cabinets to find condiments.

“You should’ve told me.” Jazelle said. “With what’s happening right now, I would’ve thought you were an intruder.”

Jazelle ripped the instant coffee and stuffed the powder into a cup. Jazelle watched her bag from the corner of her eye. Her bag slouched at an uncomfortable forty-five-degree angle; it begged for correction. The hot water splashed into the coffee cup, and it plunged and simmered, metamorphosing into coffee foam. Bubbles on the brink of bursting rose to the surface like liquid lava. Jazelle scooped a spoon, backhand, like a weapon, and stirred.

“Diane thought I could use a vacation,” Lior said. “She sent me.”

Jazelle stirred the spoon several times, rattling it against the coffee cup.

“New girl?” Jazelle turned back and stared at Lior with a raised eyebrow. “Again?”

Lior replied, “We’ve been together for three months. She’s good.”

Jazelle slammed and twisted the coffee cup down on the table. “Good?” She crossed her arms, elbowing the table. Jazelle shot Lior a look. “Good’s never good enough for you.”

Jazelle leaned forward, towering over Lior. Lior held onto the coffee cup, steam whisking out of the cup into thin air. Jazelle looked at Lior with angered intensity. She gripped her teeth. Jazelle had lots of questions, but it was best not to ask. It had been one-and-a-half years since she last saw her. No correspondence, anything. She appeared and disappeared without a moment’s notice. Jazelle was tired of being in the unknown. Lior placed both arms against the table, got up, and headed towards the kitchen. Lior opened up each of the cabinets as if she were in a maze, desperately trying to search for something.

Jazelle looked at Lior. “Looking for something?”

Lior didn’t answer. Lior reached out, pulling an invisible handle; it wasn’t there. Her hand remained outstretched in mid-air. Jazelle looked at Lior, then reached into the rightmost cupboard and took out some instant ramen.

“You wanted this?” Jazelle said. “You could’ve asked.”

Lior turned the other way. She folded her palm, grasping air.

“I’ve just forgotten where things were placed…that’s all.”

Two cups of instant ramen steamed hot on the table, along with the smell of coffee. Lior’s ramen had luncheon meat; she munched on the meat and slurped her ramen with satisfaction. Her wooden chopsticks clumsily crossed together while picking up the ramen, causing some of the noodles to splatter back onto the ramen cup.

“Have you forgotten to use chopsticks as well?” Jazelle inquired.

“…It’s been a while since I’ve used them,” Lior said.

Jazelle’s hand propped against her face in contemplation. She stared past Lior, at the old-fashioned clock that ticked on the wall. Seconds ticked like minutes as the receptor sat in the heavy trunk of her bag. It was a detonating bomb. Jazelle itched to lay her hands on it. If security patrol were to come to the house, they would yank it out of her bag this instant.

Lior looked at Jazelle like a laser hitting its target. “It appears you’re thinking about something.”

Jazelle felt like Lior was interrogating her. Lior’s coat flowed down in smooth waves. Her look was professional; her observations – sharp.

Lior continued, “You should get a new bag. Your bag’s becoming worn.”

Jazelle wanted to glance behind her. Sweat dripped along her neck. She scratched her head. ”I’m just nervous…Security patrol dropped by recently.”

"Security patrol?”

Jazelle looked to the side and flailed her hands. “Yeah…they stopped by the workshop. I’m not even sure if I can go tomorrow.” Jazelle’s hands circled in front of her. “They’re on the lookout for suspects or something.”

Lior quietly exhaled. “…I see.”

Lior slurped her ramen almost a bit too quickly, devouring everything in the cup. She placed her cup and the chopsticks on the table and attempted to pick up her coffee, but just as she did, she stopped mid-way.

Jazelle witnessed all of this through a trail of steam. Lior was disappearing. First, it was water vapor; now, it was steam…What next?

Jazelle needed to grasp onto something. Anything. She talked.

“What’s Diane like?” Jazelle asked.

“Bubbly,” Lior said. She left the cup and coffee untouched. “Smart.” Lior looked down at the table in front of her. “She approached me first.”

Jazelle paused. “…She seems interesting.”

”Yeah,” Lior said. "Hope it lasts longer.”

Jazelle wasn’t aware of Lior’s other relationships, but she was aware that she was dating when Jazelle received sudden care packages to the house in the form of tea or other gifts; it was proof that other people were winning her affection.

Jazelle glanced and posed another question, “Why come back?”

”Diane thought I could use a break.”

“Break? From overwork?”

“Yeah. It’s one thing after another. Use my mind a lot.”

“Huh…Is that so?”Jazelle stared at Lior’s trenchcoat. It was fancy. Leather was difficult to get in Sun-Downe;  it was the code of the elites. Some trenchcoats were bulletproof. 

She must be paid a lot...Hope she’s safe. 

Lior had been doing it since nine. 

Sometimes she would come in a fancy airship booster. Her fashion changed every time she visited; it was sleek, clean, and presentable. It probably came from the Capital.

Lior saw Jazelle twiddling and spinning her empty ramen cup like a toy, balancing it on its end. “Still into machines?” Lior asked.

“Yeah, love them,” Jazelle said. “I want to be an inventor. I want to spin those apexes three-sixty, and get the accelerator gear going.”

To Jazelle, love was a strange thing. People often talked about it, but to her it was redundant. Even in a conversation with two people, words can only travel so far. Sometimes, it's best to end it with silence.

Jazelle got up. “It’s late. I’ll rest up.”

Lior feigned surprise. “…You sleep early now?”

“Well, I still have clients at The Works. Scared of security patrol, but you know what? Have to do what I need to do to survive.”

Lior’s hands clenched. Jazelle got up, picked up her backpack, and headed to her room. Lior looked at Jazelle’s backpack and noticed it was irregularly swaying to one side compared to the other. Lior memorized and captured the moment in her mind.

Jazelle entered her room and dropped her backpack to the floor. She didn’t bother turning on the light. She was exhausted from the events of the day. She lay face down on the bed and muffled the pillow to her face in an attempt to wash all her thoughts away. If Lior weren’t there, she would’ve slept immediately.

Guess I’m the only one who cares about this relationship, Jazelle thought.

In a corner of her room, on top of her desk of scattered books, was a picture frame with a worn-out photo in it. In this day and age, mementos are rare. Jazelle kept them on her desk and desk drawer, where she kept antiques from centuries old, trying to fix them. But some things can’t be fixed. That photo, stilled in time, told everything. A bubbly eight-year-old Jazelle, with a smiling Lior. Jazelle had her arms above her head, elevated. Lior, smiling, stood next to Jazelle, with her hand, shyly placed on Lior’s shoulder.