Deep in the heart of the Pratunox, among the endless expanses of moonflowers and ancient necropoli, lay the city of Bekh. Perched upon a massive tell, the undulating artificial horizon of the New City stood defiantly, ignorant to the countless millennia of history buried deep beneath its surface. Bathed in eternal night and hypnotized by the hum of the city, its populace continued about their lives in a haze, pushing ever forwards, towards something, surely.
The hum was a silence all its own, muted by the massive walls of the towers, and refracted around the smaller buildings, byways, and alleys they gave way to at ground level. The tangled mass of megastructures and viaducts was pulsating and alive, but never loud, swallowing up the din and clamor of everyday life which curled thick about the waist of its endless expanse like the arms of a forgotten child. If it breathed at all, it was one unceasing inhale, a constant building of tension, a slight knot in the bellies of its more perceptive and sagacious inhabitants.
On the lowest street level, below the highways, freight rails, and conduits, lurked one such denizen of Bekh. Bundled in a dark, grimy faux-fur lined coat which may have once been purple, and a pair of black leggings beneath her pleated skirt, a small young mouse crouched in a space between two buildings which could hardly be classified as a full alleyway. Round ears, each almost as large as her head and protected by thick tufts of her winter fur, swiveled to track the movement of her pupils – the only two parts of her that moved. Throngs of pedestrians passed by in front of her in an endless mass. Most held their heads cast downwards, or fixed their dazed and weary eyes on their newscasters as they simply let the crowd carry them. Abigail let her eyes unfocus a bit and stilled her breathing. In the way that only a scapegrace can, she reduced her senses to a dull throb punctuated only by the most important information: a pair of men walking in the way that one does with a gun in their pants; the sound of a runner leaping somewhere above her; faint radio chatter – a shakedown, two.. no, three hundred meters to the right; a rhythmic rumble from the pipe next to her. No change in plans.
Minutes stretched on and Abigail continued to watch the street. It was her least favorite job by far, and she was sure that she had only landed it tonight because Tucker was mad at her. She had the worst vision, after all, as well as the shortest legs. On top of that, she found it almost impossible to maintain her focus on the bland task for long before her mind wandered. She shifted uncomfortably in her hiding spot, thinking of the warm fire back at the bus. A growing flake of ice began to tickle her nostril, and she wiped it aside. No sooner than she had lowered her hand, the exact thing she was looking for passed not an arms length in front of her. No time to clear her head. Three knocks on the pipe and she disappeared into the crowd.
At just over three feet tall, Abigail felt downright claustrophobic in crowds. Hers was a world of legs and tails, cigarette sparks and scornful glances from above. And pockets. If she was lucky, full ones. Dodging and weaving neatly in the ever-shifting pockets between people (and occasionally right between the legs of larger walkers), she continued in the direction of her quarry, outpacing the crowd without ever having to run. As she passed the noodle shop on the corner of Lamoore she paused. Still no eyes on the target. Had he turned? She pushed her way to the edge of the crowd in time to spot Tucker and Natalie crossing the street about a hundred yards ahead. Tuck's scarf was wrapped twice around his neck. Eyes on target. Abigail scurried back into the crowd, trying her best to follow Tuck's gaze. She couldn't afford to miss her chance. A mark like this could feed all of them for a few days, maybe longer.
Just when she was about to double back, there was a scuffle ahead. Awareness passed like a ripple through the crowd; people slowed, altered their course, or stood to get a closer look. The epicenter of the commotion was just a short ways ahead of her, and sure enough, a moment later she saw Tucker on the ground with Natalie standing over him, shirt collar in hand, mock rage playing across her face.
Crap.
She had missed her chance. Their mark had already straightened himself up, looking sternly at the pair.
“Watch where the fuck you're going. Do you have any idea how much it costs to clean this suit? Every time I come down to this shithole...”
Abigail hesitated. She was right behind the mark now. He still seemed pretty distracted, but he would definitely notice if she went for it now. He was large, too. A bull. He'd have an easy time bowling most people over to chase after her. But this was the best mark they'd found in weeks. She took a deep breath. Tucker stared at her, his furrowed brow and hard eyes unmistakably ordering her to stand down. She looked back to the pocket and bit her lip. It looked pretty full. She tugged on the sleeve of the onlooker beside her, a young fox woman who looked to be in her twenties.
“Um, excuse me, miss?”
The fox bent down to face Abigail.
“Yes, dear, what is it? Do you know these two?”
Abigail just grinned and put her hands on the woman's shoulder's, wedging her foot in the strap of her purse. The woman stumbled back in surprise. It was all the momentum Abigail needed to propel herself up to the bull's pocket. In one fluid motion, she grabbed and swung off his pocket and disappeared into the crowd once more.
For a moment, she thought she was in the clear. There was no exclamation of outrage or astonishment. She was practically giddy, tiny heart pumping adrenaline through her limbs as she fled. It wasn't until she turned down the alleyway beside the noodle shop that she heard the heavy thundering hoofsteps behind her, rapidly closing the distance now that she was out of the crowd. Panic encroached upon the small girl's mind twice as rapidly. A lump formed in her throat, dry from panting, as visions of all the things a man that size could do to someone like her zipped through her mind. She really, really wanted to pee.
Abigail paced herself. She let her senses dull again, just for a moment, and focused only on the sound of the bull's hooves striking the pavement. Thrice her stride, half her pace – she had maybe 20 seconds. Grabbing the edge of a pipe running down the corner of the shoddy old building, she wound her momentum around it and darted behind the back of the noodle shop. A rectangle of yellowish light pierced the dimness some several yards in front of her. It was an open door. Instinctually, her body moved towards it, but then she paused. She glanced at her wrist. Which watch had the real time on it again? It had to be about 9 o'clock, which meant –
Ten seconds. The bull had rounded the corner and was calling out to her now.
“I've got you, you little klepto brat!”
Abigail didn't turn. Six seconds.
Every muscle in her body screamed at her to move, but she willed herself still for another long and agonizing moment. Finally, there was a shadow in the open doorframe. She sprung forwards, ducking under the cook's legs as he emerged from the door. The cook's cry of dismay echoed through the narrow space, followed by a splash and a string of very loud curses, some of which Abigail didn't even recognize. She scooted across the ground on all fours for a few yards before righting herself once more and allowing herself a glance backwards.
The bull was pulling himself out of the mucky gutter that ran along the edge of the building behind the noodle shop. His upper half was covered in the grease from the cook's bucket, and his lower half in god-knows-what. Abigail giggled, but stifled it as her pursuer locked furious eyes with her. Thankfully, a breath was all she needed. By the time the bull had collected himself, the mouse was long gone.
***
Natalie paced back and forth through the broken husk of the bus, pausing at either end to thump her thick rudder-like tail on the floor and fidget with her bat. She was no less intimidating when she was nervous. Tucker watched her incredulously from his seat by the flickering fire drum as he took another long drag from his cigarette. Aaron was seated opposite from him. His long lapine ears drooped forwards as he leaned over Gera's sleeping head, which presently rested in his lap. At least, Natalie assumed they were sleeping. A tangled mass of bangs always concealed the small creature's eyes, but their legs were splayed out at an angle that couldn't possibly have been comfortable if they were awake, and a thin trickle of drool ran down their chin.
Tucker flicked his cigarette butt at Natalie. The powerfully built otter swatted it away without hesitation and glared at him.
“It's her own fault,” he said flatly, cutting off the words forming on her lips.
“Fuck off, I know that.”
“If she gets caught –”
“She can handle herself.”
Natalie brushed past Tucker and sulked to the rear of the bus. She gazed out through the gaping hole where the back of the vehicle had once been, eyes fixed on the narrow path leading from the drainage culvert.
The remains of the antique vehicle lay in a sunken portion of unusable land at the corner of two side streets. The remaining two sides were bordered by the remains of an old factory, and the dizzyingly tall facade of the Ludovico megatower. There was no access to the tower from the streets above them; all of the entrances were higher up, connected to the highways and overstructures that blotted out much of the sky. As it were, the exterior of the lower levels of the tower were used to display advertising to the masses of the lower city. Red and purple light from the holographic SimTek sign mounted on the side of the tower above mixed with the green hues of the strange plants that grew in the long abandoned hollow, creating an unsettling, dreamlike effect. Tall plants, with hard stems, some of them even thicker around than Natalie, and each with countless leaves. Thick underbrush and twisting vines crowded around their bases, making the area difficult to traverse without knowing the way.
The combination of strange, verdant foliage and depressed elevation made the spot seem incredibly secluded in spite of its proximity to the rest of the city. There were rumors of it being haunted or cursed, and the kids had all been sure to keep those rumors alive by spooking anyone who got too close. It was their home. The only place any of them really felt safe. It had taken months to make it liveable, but the gang had each brought a bit of themselves to the project, and it was improving day by day. Natalie and Tucker were the oldest of the group, and the rest of the kids had come to look up to them as surrogate parents, for better or for worse. Natalie's stomach churned at the thought of having Tucker for a husband. She put the thought out of her mind. It was certainly true that she cared deeply for her friends, and she was sure Tucker did too, in his own emotionally stunted sort of way. If Abigail didn't show up soon, she'd go looking, and she'd drag Tucker along kicking and screaming if she had to.
After about half an hour, there was still no sign of their youngest member. Tucker snuffed out his third cigarette and stretched out across the seats.
“She's probably just hiding out somewhere,” he said, glancing at Natalie through half-hooded eyes. “You should get some sleep.”
Natalie stood up from her post at the back of the bus and strode over towards him with a fiery look in her eye. She grabbed Tucker by the collar. She didn't have to fake her irritation this time. Aaron tensed, bracing for a conflict, then practically shot out of his seat as a loud thunk reverberated through the wall behind him. Gera was sent sprawling onto the floor, bumping their dirty mop head on the fire drum and sending sparks and smoke into Natalie's face. Natalie promptly dropped Tucker, coughing and sputtering up a storm.
Gera pointed lazily at the window as the smoke cleared.
“Mouse face,” they said.
The other three followed their gaze. It was indeed a mouse face, squished comically up against the dull, scratched polycarbonate of one of the intact windows, with a ridiculous grin on its face.
“Abby!” shouted Natalie. She started towards the door, but the tiny girl was already squirming her way through one of the other windows. She somersaulted awkwardly onto the seats and then stood up proudly, beaming as though she had just performed some wildly impressive feat. Aaron and Gera hugged her, eliciting squeaky giggles from the rodent.
Natalie scooped Abigail up into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze before plopping down on the seats with the young mouse in her lap. Tucker crossed his arms and frowned at them both.
“Thought you were a goner for sure,” he said nonchalantly. Natalie glared at him.
Abigail reached into her coat pocket and produced the bull's wallet. Tucker's expression softened into a smirk. He snatched the wallet and ruffled Abigail's hair.
“Nice job, pipsqueak.”
Abigail blushed, smiling shyly. Natalie rolled her eyes.
“We were so worried about you,” she said. “How did you even get back? I was watching the path from the culvert the whole time.”
Abigail pointed back the way she had come.
“I climbed down the embankment from Bernia avenue. Well.. rolled, mostly. Big guy called the cops or something, so I had to circle around.”
“I see that,” replied Natalie smugly. She picked some stray twigs and leaves out of Abigail's hair. “Looks like you tore your skirt too. Aaron can fix it, I think.”
She looked towards Tucker, who was still examining the contents of the wallet.
“Find anything good?” she asked.
Tucker nodded. “Idiot was carrying a bunch of cash. We're set for a week at least. Found this too. Either of you nerds know what it is?”
He held the object out for Abigail and Gera to examine. It was a rectangular thing made of dented metal. It looked old.
Gera took it and held it up to where their eyes presumably were.
“Looks like a hard drive. Holographic type, I think. I don't recognize these ports.”
“Is it worth anything?” asked Tucker.
“Depends on what's on it. We'd need special equipment to read it. Might be account ledgers or company secrets. Or his porn collection, I dunno.”
Tucker yawned and scratched the base of his tail.
“Okay, keep it with the rest of the computer stuff for now. We can mess with it once we get it all set up or something. M'goin to bed.”
Abigail snuggled under the pile of blankets between Natalie and Gera. The floor was a bit hard, but it stored the heat from the fire drum pretty well, making it pleasantly warm even after the fire had gone to embers. She had messed up today, and worried everyone, but she still felt a certain degree of pride in having helped the others so much. As the youngest and newest member of the group, she didn't usually get the important jobs. Had she misread Tucker's intentions earlier? Maybe he made her the lookout to see if she could be trusted. That sounded like something he'd do.
She pulled the blankets up over her face to block out the glow from outside, breathing in the familiar scent of her friends. It wasn't the easiest life that she had chosen, but it seemed better than being at home. Her parents didn't seem to care that she was gone so much anyways. Her true family was here, and she was never going to give that up.
It wasn't long before she drifted into a peaceful sleep. Nurtured in the uncaring womb of Bekh, children like her had little in the way of dreams for the future. But right now, she had little in the way of worries, either. She was right where she was supposed to be.
The first entry in a series of short stories taking place in a cyberpunk dystopian setting, following the adventures of myself and the rag-tag gang of gutter kids I hang out with!
Fun Fact: In archaeology, a tell is basically a mound of stratified debris built up beneath a settlement from generations of successive inhabitants, over hundreds or thousands of years.
Characters in this story: - Abigail (me!), mouse, age 8 - Gera, unknown, age unknown - Aaron, bunny, age 12 - Natalie, otter, age 15 - Tucker, mutt, age 15
I've had this marinating in my brain for a while now, and I have a lot planned. This is a deeply personal project, and I'm pouring into this everything that makes me who I am. As such, it's mostly for my satisfaction in writing it. But I hope that maybe a few other people will end up liking it.
What you can expect from this series: - Lots of weird and deep worldbuilding, because I love worldbuilding! - Exploration of personal traumas, feelings, and social issues. - A good bit of fluff to start out with, while still keeping a somewhat dark tone, and dipping into mature subjects. - Lots of horny! Just not in this particular story.
A Word Of Warning:To start with, there won't be anything too bad or upsetting in the stories (this one is suitable for general audiences!) but that will not always be the case. The darker/more extreme stuff will be appropriately tagged and uploaded with a thumbnail indicating the content as well.
