The mechanical flower opened, revealing The Orb. The Orb floated. It was covered with thin, slinky wire. The Orb glowed in Jazelle's eyes; it flowed like molten silver, its utility malleable to anyone who used it. It was magnetic. Her hand reached out to touch that liquid silver. She stopped. The Orb radiated with a force that consumed Jazelle. She felt The Orb swallowing her whole. It loomed, its mystery weighing power over her. Her hand reached out to touch its essence,
but just as she did, she tossed the receptor into a corner. The receptor fell hard and landed with a soft thud. The receptor rolled over, bumped into a wall, then stopped.
but just as she did, she tossed the receptor into a corner. The receptor fell hard and landed with a soft thud. The receptor rolled over, bumped into a wall, then stopped.
Jazelle stared at her empty, tossed hand. Her palm was creased, and she still felt the metallic scars on the receptor as it left her hand. It was cold and detached. She severed it as if it were a limb that fell off her body. The world spun. Jazelle’s breath was heavy. The sound of her breath travelled, filling the void within the room. She felt the edge of The Orb, its wired edges, the mesh that held it together, and she easily just tossed it away. Jazelle wished that mesh would contain her right now. That mesh was suppressing a scream. She tasted metal. Her headache throbbed; it felt like barbed wire tightening around her head. It dug into her flesh. That image soaked into her brain. The tattoo. She knew what it was.
On each turn as she unlocked the receptor, she recorded each of the letters in turn. Initially, her fingers were playful. A world sat on her fingertips, and she was eager to explore it. But for each turn explored, and with each mystery solved, her fingers stiffened. The Orb that she was once fascinated by became a common enemy, a truth that she never knew. A heavy weight pressed on her neck and chest. As she unscrambled each of the letters, her body froze in trepidation.
O.Y.U —You
N.R.A.E.R.T — Aren’t
H.R.S.C.A.P —Shrap
O.R.N — Nor
A — A
H.R.A.S.D — Shard
J.N.O.I..S.U — Join Us
Join us.
A call to action she can't accept.
Jazelle was surprised the receptor did not hit the floor harder than it did.
Of course, it had an anti-falling mechanism.
The receptor remained intact, while she remained in pieces.
Her hands ran across her face, casting shadows resembling barred iron. A prison of her making.
The rest of that night, Jazelle couldn't sleep. She knew what touching that floating Orb meant. Acceptance. Acceptance of something outside her control that she couldn't take back.
Her life was that of an ordinary mechanic. She was comfortable in her workshop. The realization that her choice would take her from that working-class rhythm to a barren landscape was unbearable.
Normally, upon waking, she would pull apart the curtains. This time she didn't. She sat dazed, in a tired frenzy, before changing. Jazelle slung her backpack over her shoulder and opened the door.
Lior sat in the kitchen, lost in thought. Mapped in front of her was a book about the cartography of The Scorchlands. The flipped pages filled the silence.
“Need help with my coffee," Lior said.
Jazelle slouched forward. She rubbed her eyes between her fingertips, barely registering what Lior was saying. Her mind felt like a faulty machine on hold. She wanted to push the levers in her mind to get it working again, but nothing was working. Jazelle was an overrun machine on the brink of collapse.
If only humans could be tinkered with — my life would be easier.
Lior's voice was a dull ache in her ears.
“Jazelle,” commanded Lior. "Jazelle!" Her voice shot through the chipped gears in Jazelle's conscience.
Jazelle stood marked. Lior's eyes seared into Jazelle's back as if she were a target.
Lior spoke. Her statements flew like missiles. One after the other.
“You slept early and woke up late.”
Jazelle tensed.
“Your bag appears lighter than yesterday.”
Lior’s elbow propped on the table. Her hand was cradling her face. Lior tilted her head.
“Security arrived yesterday. You shouldn't be out,” Lior continued, scanning her book. She flipped to the next page.
“Just make me coffee. That should suffice.”
“Just make me coffee. That should suffice.”
That hit her. She turned like a set of unmatched gears, forcing itself against the current.
“So? You expect me to make you coffee? Have you forgotten a basic, decent skill? You’re the stranger in this house. Expecting everything to be in perfect order when you come back!" Jazelle’s eyes glinted with fiery steel. “Well, I’m sorry. There’s only one coffee pack remaining!”
Jazelle rushed out of the house and slammed the door. She strode out, intending not to return, but remembered the receptor.
It’s best I probably take that with me.
She rushed back in, stormed into her room, took the receptor, and stuffed it into her bag. Jazelle ensured it stayed at the bottom. She walked out. Before leaving, she saw a strange sight.
Lior's hands grabbed fistfuls of her hair. She looked faded. The book that Lior was reading had fallen to the wayside. There was a coffee smudge on one of the pages, making the words look blurred. Ink and page were mixing.
Jazelle glanced at Lior a final time before bolting out of the door.
She rushed out in a hurry, fidgeting with her Astrolab, throwing it flimsily on the ground. The Astrolab zoomed and assembled. Jazelle got on her Astrolab and boarded it off into the distance.
If The Works was crowded and her home was a pigsty, then Jazelle only had one other place to turn to. The Ruins.
The Ruins lay on the edge of town, just opposite were the mountain ranges of the Vale Valley.
Most wouldn't dare to venture here. Years of chemical wear and tear have left most of the cracked concrete ruined. Grey peeled in patches and thinning straight lines, revealing the clay-coloured stone underneath. The stone was discoloured, blotched with spots like an illness. This made The Ruins uninhabitable.
Jazelle walked, her boots treading through desert sand. Sand piled up, covering the steel bottoms, reinforcing the concrete in the ruins. The concrete ruin slabs were criss-crossed at various angles. There were punched holes in buildings. Masses of buildings had missing roofs or walls, leaving buildings exposed to the elements.
With each step she walked, sand filled Jazelle's trailing footprints. She wasn't dressed for the weather. Occasionally, a gust of wind would blow sand from the dunes on her face. Jazelle coughed and sneezed. Her dust allergy would show in the most unusual of ways. She serendipitously ransacked her bag, pulled out a piece of cloth, and tied it around the bottom of her mouth like a bandana.
Thank goodness, I had that in handy.
She didn’t expect the cloth covering the receptor to be of use. Jazelle had barged out of the house in a storm. Lior’s appearance unsettled Jazelle. She looked like a dysmorphic crystal with long, extended parts; her psyche strung wire-thin. This concerned Jazelle, but she blew the image out of her mind. She had a focus and a destination, and she needed to get to that first.
Jazelle reached a square patch right on the edge of a multi-layered ruin. She swiped back a layer of sand with her boot, revealing textured metal in the earth. Four sides, indicative of sturdiness and strength. Lined with sixteen rows of studs, evenly spaced, remnants of a prior civilization. In the middle was a thick latch handle. She pulled it.
The door whooshed, folded, and rattled, revealing a secret passageway. It travelled down. Jazelle extended her foot and tapped all four walls of the enclosure to ensure it was still intact before closing the door behind her. She smelled the musky sand as it got trapped in her airways. She coughed, tightened her bandana, and stretched her arms along the enclosure to squeeze herself in.
She descended slowly. At first, Jazelle heard only her footsteps, but as she walked and walked, and descended deeper, the sound of her footsteps hollowed. A set of automatic lights lit up along the walls in a crescendo. Surprisingly, the underground enclave wasn’t too dusty. Jazelle could still breathe underground. All she had to watch out for were dents and dips in the ceiling of the enclave.
Soon, Jazelle reached a wide opening. When Jazelle first found the place, she figured it must have been a shelter of some sort. The opening was cylindrical, and the ceiling sat high. There were holes poked into the sides of the enclave, allowing warm light from the outside to enter. Jazelle figured the inhabitants of this place must’ve used mirror-tunnels to bring in light from the outside. The place was sturdy and well-built, but it had no wired electricity. Interestingly enough, the place survived with battery-powered light. Jazelle used to wonder why this was the case, but after pondering it for a while, she decided to let it go.
She placed all the items in front of her in a pentagram-like formation. Receptor in the middle, cloth to the side, auto-tool on top, and notebook with pencil to the right. She gulped half her cranberry juice, then placed the bottle to the right of her, uncapped. Jazelle stared at the receptor as if it were an invention from an alien planet. She didn’t know what world lay beneath its machinery. She felt the hair standing on her arms. Her neck perspired. The sweat curved off her neck, then landed on rock-solid ground. Anything that was done in the shelter could be heard. The shelter was an echo-chamber. There wasn’t any going back.
She twisted the receptor. She copied all the steps executed the previous day with mechanical precision. The receptor unwound, and The Orb floated. Jazelle leaned in. Head crouched, orb glowing in her eye. She reached out, index finger outstretched, and touched it. The orb glowed, and the mechanical wiring sprang apart like a curtain. The receptor glowed and sent back a burst of energy; the light filled the entire corridor. The Orb spun, horizontally and vertically like an atom, then expanded as if a coin were being flipped. It swished and stopped, opposite Jazelle like a mirror. Words showed up on the screen.
Name? A neon cursor blinked, an indication that it needed to be filled out.
Name.
People don’t give names in Sun-Downe. The city thrived on people's anonymity. This was strange. Jazelle flinched her fingers with caution. Best to play it safe. She tapped on the screen once, and the screen changed colour, indicating she could type. Instead of typing on the keypad, she traced the letters in midair. The receptor immediately picked it up.
L.I.O.R
Jazelle hit enter, and the screen splashed red. Jazelle read out the words on the screen. Name claimed. Pick another.
Name claimed? Jazelle placed a hand over her mouth. Her fingers tapped like a staircase on her face. A thought crossed her mind, and she decided to deliberate on it later. The cursor blinked like a half-answered question. Jazelle pondered. Need to think of a code-name.
Her rough fingers scratched her chin. She sat in silence, tapped the ground, then started writing. Her fingers swept in midair like a ribbon. The letters formed, refined and soft.
TINKER
She hit enter. The screen swivelled and turned green. Soon, the orb shot a projection. A series of glitchy pixels appeared, cascading. The pixels flipped between blue and black in a loading state, before finally a face appeared. Jazelle recognized the face. Long forehead with long blonde hair that extended past her shoulders. Currently, she looked like a prophetic nomad.
The girl spoke, “I was waiting for you.”
Jazelle looked at the girl and swallowed. Jazelle’s neck felt bare from behind. The girl showed the back of her hand. Jazelle saw the tattoo. It was faded and etched deep into her skin.
“Thanks for helping us solve it. I need your help with something else.”
The girl showed another object on screen, which was flat and dome-shaped. Jazelle admired its line and heft. She guessed it used chrome instead of titanium.
A map receptor. Points the person to a location.
“You need someone to help you use it?” Jazelle asked.
The girl looked at her; her mother was in the background.
“You’re one of us, Jazelle, you can’t hide it. It’s best you join us now.”
Jazelle paused and looked at the tiny specks of dirt that remained unsettled on the ground. She redirected her attention to the girl.
“…So, you’re enlisting me to join your cult.”
There was a slight pause.
“Look, I figured out your machine,” Jazelle said, extending her hand. Her fingernails were still dirty and filled with grime. “I demand my payment.”
Jazelle rolled her left hand into a fist and bumped it into her other hand as if she were punching someone. “Two-hundred-and-fifty silver is way too cheap!”
Two thousand and twenty silver was what Jazelle paid for rent.
The girl stared at Jazelle; she looked like a marionette plastered on a poster. Her image looked intimidating, but Jazelle wasn’t afraid.
“We’ll pay you. We need your expertise.” Now, Jazelle paid attention.
“We weren’t able to unlock or use the receptor like you. I copied you to ensure we can unlock it.”
“We weren’t able to unlock or use the receptor like you. I copied you to ensure we can unlock it.”
Jazelle furrowed her brow in skepticism.
“How would you been able to copy me? You’ve never met me.”
“I saw it.” The girl said. “I saw it into the future. You helped us.”
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