Fin stood in the middle of the street, watching the ash fall. Cars were covered, like a fine powder from a first snow, and muffled sounds made their way to Fin’s ears. The ringing kept the screams and sirens far away. Moments ago, an explosion had torn through the quiet city block, shattering the morning routine. Spilled coffee cups littered the sidewalk, kicked aside by scuffles in the ash from people running. The concussive force had startled cars; the alarms and flashing lights dancing amongst the muted white. Fin brushed ash from his coat, smearing it grey instead of black, and he started walking toward the people running. Reaching down to his hip, he grasped the hilt of his sword, silver eyes scanning the street for signs of the explosion. He walked silently past the screaming and running people; police and military would be here soon enough to offer them aid. Right now, he needed to find where the explosion originated, and determine if it was a magical or mundane event.
“Sir! Stop right there! I need you to slowly turn around and identify yourself!”
Fin stopped. He held his hands away from his body and slowly turned around. A young police officer had a gun leveled at him. “My name is Greyson Fin. I’m a Conduit.”
The gun dropped, but was leveled again almost immediately. “Do you have your credentials?”
Fin smiled. “Of course. Just put the gun down. I’m sure people need our help, after the explosion. I still need to try and determine the source.”
The officer shook his head. “I can’t do that, sir. I need to see your credentials. If you are a Conduit, why did you respond so quickly? This section is under a Damp Field. There’s no way you could have gotten here so quickly.”
Continue reading “The Fall of New Brooklyn, Day One, 8:47am”
I’m a garbage beautifier. It’s not near as glamorous as it sounds. I wander around the garbage strewn streets of our dirty city with the TF-3000. The Trash Flowerifier. It’s a ray gun that zaps trash into flowers. With as much garbage as my fellows and I zap, you’d think there would be much less garbage and much more flowers in the city. Not so. I’ve never been able to figure out why, but the flowers just seem to vanish and there’s always another empty case of Coors Light and Taco Bell bags and wrappers. Originally, I thought the effects of the TF-3000 were temporary, but I did some private testing.
The flower garden in my backyard is doing just fine, so unless people are making secret gardens, the flowers just can’t survive in all the garbage of the city. Maybe the flowers just can’t take root. Or the piles of garbage bags overflowing with condoms, sticky porno magazines, beer cans, broken radios, leftover salmon, and whatever else people throw out suffocate the flowers. All the trash is stifling. I’ve even worked overtime to try and make more of an impact. My wife hates it when I work overtime. She says I never make a difference, and I don’t get paid overtime, so why bother? If I got paid for overtime, I’m sure she’d never let me come home. I feel like I have to at least try, though. I can never understand how this city can make so much garbage. On my computer at home, I have thousands of pictures of what the world used to look like. It was so green, and light. Now, there’s garbage and haze. The sun hardly peeks through the polluted sky. So, I work long hours, make minimum wage, and the garbage still overwhelms the population of the city. Nothing ever looks any different. Something my wife makes sure to tell me every single chance she can. Her favorite time to rub that in, is when we’re eating a wonderful dinner she paid for.
Continue reading “TF-3000 – A story.”