No one sets in Sun-Downe. Sun-Downe used to be a pit-stop town. People stayed, but not long. For if you stayed, the city, with its archaic rust and ruins, would ruin you.

The city was home to a myriad of characters, the majority of them engaged in petty crime. Its main economy was transportation. Transportation of goods…and people. Jazelle witnessed it all the time, especially when she worked in The Works.

From early afternoon until evening, she toiled away the hours in her workshop, smelling dirt and grime. She pulled out her laser-projected auto-tool, swiped its handle, and clicked a few buttons, changing her auto-tool from a screwdriver to a laser cutter. Gripping the handle tightly, the laser pierced through hunks of metal. Wearing her visor, she watched as the sparks set ablaze. Metallic blue for hitting stainless steel, rainbow for titanium, and white for aluminium. The sparks danced in her eyes as they changed colour. When people meet, some call it chemistry. To her, this was the real deal.

In a day, Jazelle tinkered with several machines. Some clients requested quick repair, others asked for modifications. Work was slow on Wednesdays. As the midday sun beat over her head, she grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from her brow. And that’s when she noticed them…the people.

A thin opening in the alley peered open, revealing a cluster of teenagers. The youngest huddled in the middle. They wore anxious, flustered expressions. Tears welled up in the youngest eyes. The oldest in the group bundled together, diligent, frantically scanning their surroundings. All had matching tattoos on their arms, legs, or necks. Jazelle stared at them until a neighbour’s shout broke her trance.

"Don’t stare, kid!"

Another chimed in, "Once you’re a ShArD, you’re scrap…for life! Wouldn’t want to become Shrap like them."

Jazelle kept on staring. She didn’t take orders. ShArDs, she heard about them. People with abilities used or owned by the government. She didn’t know what the acronym meant, but she didn’t bother to ask. She stared because they were a mirror image of her. Fifteen, the same age as herself.

In some instances, some stared back. This was rare, but when they did, they looked at her with that look, as if they knew something she didn’t. She stared through that gap until they were out of sight, before tearing away. Once she did, Jazelle felt the weirdest sensation. Her temples seared like the static of lingering electricity. Her world felt like it was collapsing on itself. Everyday conversations became numb and dulled out, like the fading tick of pocket watches Jazelle secretly kept — underneath her desk drawer. It felt like a heavy piece of metal dislodged like an anvil through her brain. Jazelle heard the sounds of working machines hammering over each other in repetitive loops. One after another, they cried like an unfinished symphony. Her headache pulsed and pulsed. It pulsed, sending a message through her body; it screamed: I’m here, don’t ignore me.

Jazelle didn’t have many memories before arriving at Sun-Downe. She arrived when she was nine. She was in a transporter. Jazelle remembered the model number. She frantically searched for it in books: a GT-038 airship, with a dual propeller. The transporter had a sleek, thermodynamic design, reinforced with Carbon Fibre Reinforced Polymers, and a thick titanium skeleton.

She pressed both her hands against the thick glass and stared out at the view below. Sun-Downe was located within the Scorchlands and the Vale Valley. Stretched between both provinces were landscapes of desert filled with chipped pieces of desert-rock. She enjoyed looking at the multi-coloured layers of sediment. What existed beyond their depths? Lizards? Chameleons? Jazelle turned to face her twin sister.

"Lior, Lior! Look at this. Mountains! Everywhere!"

Lior didn’t face Jazelle. Her demeanor was stiff. Lior’s back fastened to the back of the cushioned passenger seat. Her focus was on the pilot maneuvering the aircraft in front of them. Lior’s hands crossed on top of her crisp, plaid skirt. She wore a long-sleeved black turtleneck, stretched tight, against her chest. Lior remained cool despite the heat. Her raven hair swept back into a neat, tight ponytail. The only evidence of her age was her round, tanned face. Her posture emanated elegance. Contained within her small body were centuries-worth of polished, refined, clandestine crystal. Each miniature move she made only revealed a small fragment of her personality. The light fractured at just the right angles, enough to see what was hidden.

Jazelle scooted over, clawing and digging her nails into Lior’s arm. Jazelle clung as if she were digging a hole in quicksand. She gripped tighter, like a delicate ant struggling to find its way. Jazelle pulled Lior, pulling her like a heavyweight to the present. Lior’s arm felt like mist. Wherever you clung, it wouldn’t matter, for she would evaporate into thin air. Jazelle looked up; she looked like a cub hugging a tree.

"Lior, you have to see this!” Jazelle repeatedly tugged. "A wild coyote?"

Lior remained unmoved. Her focus was on the pilot navigating the airship in front of them. Lior’s eyes lingered on the pilot’s coordinates. The pointer on the map spun. The screen flashed as the dot moved towards the centre of the screen. Jazelle pointed to points of interest in the distance and continued to bang her fists on the window. In the distance, Lior spotted a settlement full of chipped, clay-coloured buildings. Lior’s back straightened. Her voice cracked like scarred ice. "Down. Now."

The pilot descended.

The pilot lowered his aircraft until the transporter hovered only thirty centimetres above The Overview. The turbines spun, causing dust clouds to rise to the surface.

"Jazelle. Get off." Lior said.

Jazelle looked at Lior in askance. Lior’s eyes resembled stilled water, like millions of thoughts and emotions swimming beneath an ocean.

Lior looked towards Jazelle. "Go on…This is our home."

Home. A home for both of them?

Warmth fluttered through Jazelle’s body. All fear and trepidation soon flew out of the window.

The transporter door hissed open, and Jazelle jumped free. Jazelle leapt towards the warm, welcoming door. Lior followed suit after.

Their home in The Overview wasn’t luxurious. It was affordable. It had a wonderful view of all of Sun-Downe; it was only affordable because of the climb, and many of the citizens couldn’t afford airships to head to the top. Their home was cracked, rough, and clay-shaven. It wasn’t spacious, but it was enough to fit both of them.

Her belongings filled the room, surprising her.

Jazelle swallowed, then turned around, "It smells good, I like it!" Jazelle pointed to one room.

"I got the corner! This one’s mine, okay?"

Lior glanced at Jazelle. Her face was round and vibrant, with scattered star-speckled freckles. Jazelle’s eyes were clear. She was missing a tooth, but that was okay. Lior took long strides towards her. Lior towered over Jazelle, like a pillar with an outstretched shadow. Jazelle’s mouth was open in astonishment, and her shaggy hair surrounded her like a shroud.

Unexpectedly, Lior stroked Jazelle’s hair. Lior’s hands appeared delicate, but they were rough and cool to the touch. Lior bent down on one knee and looked up at her. In this conversation, a room wasn’t mentioned.

"I won’t be here for a while," Lior said. "You stay here. They’ll be nice."

Her own reflection shimmered in Lior’s eyes. Jazelle looked into those eyes. Her reflection was distorted, like waves on a rippled surface. Jazelle felt that she only saw the tip of the iceberg. She feared the image she saw in those eyes.

Lior took something from her skirt pocket. A dog-tag necklace. It gleaned from the sun and had a metallic shine. The string was strung together with thin, delicate spheres. Jazelle looked at the tag; it had several glyphs inscribed into it.

Lior took out the dog-tag necklace and hung it on Jazelle’s neck. She ran her fingers along one of the strings, separating each of the beads one by one. As she did, the metallic spheres collided and oscillated. Each bead resounded with a tap, one tap being responsible for the next, an endless collision. This was the beginning.

"Keep this with you at all times. This is your identity."

Lior stood up, ran her fingers along the dog-tag necklace a second time, then left, closing the door behind her. Jazelle remained. The light faded from the house. A young Jazelle found a new object to cling to: her newfound dog-tag necklace. Barren to the touch, its lonely sheen was similar to Lior’s clean exit.

After that, Jazelle barely saw Lior. Occasionally, she would come back, but each time she did, she looked different. Sometimes her hair was long, other times it was short. Jazelle didn’t even receive calls, telegrams, or letters from her.

Everything related to Lior was a mish-mash of memories. Each Lior looked different from the rest.

Lior was like a set of distorted mirrors. Walking down memory lane, people liked what they saw, but with each passing image, images collided. Jazelle felt trapped with each new image. Trapped in a kaleidoscope of memory, never to return.

Even up to this day, Jazelle wondered what Lior was thinking. Before that, they both used to spend their time in a cool, roomed facility. Jazelle remembered through her blurred, splotched memory that Lior was particularly skilled at Tantreez. Tantreez was a puzzle-unlocking game similar to a Rubik’s Cube (an invention from centuries past), with a combination of wires and ropes. Jazelle picked up the game out of habit. She loved deciphering puzzles, but when she first played Tantreez, she was puzzled because she couldn’t figure it out. The locking mechanism was too tedious. When the puzzle wasn’t solvable, it would be locked mid-way, forcing the player to use another method to open it. However, Lior looked at the other kids playing it, then with copy-cut precision, was able to unscramble the cube in an instant.

Although she felt at home. Home was Lior. Sun-Downe was rough. However, as time passed, and Jazelle understood all the edges and terrains of the concrete jungle, she sharpened. She sharpened like a fine blade over steel. Forged by tenacity, by the iron willpower of The Works, the home that once consumed and terrorised her in her solitude became her long-standing fortress.

Living didn’t become just surviving. The city wasn’t kind, but as long as you minded your own business, no one cared. Sun-Downe had lots of shadows, and the cracks in the city showed. At night, the shadows ran deeper. The city, rampant with vices, attempted to swallow anyone who was within it. But that was all cities. With light, there was shadow. And Jazelle, being who she was, preferred to focus on her view in The Overview. It was desolate and barren and empty, but as Jazelle heard the wind rustling against the great rocks of the canyons, she found solace in the glistening music in her ears.