UTOPIA.exe

Author's Note: Hi! I was selected to write this entry onbehalf of Mindshare. This was a really interesting concept and it gave me achance to explore some new settings. I really enjoyed the opportunity to becreative with this and I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading!

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The days between the then and now were blurred. All that existed was the fuzz in between, a lost heap of time that fell through the crevice of separation and only plummeted deep into the unknown abyss in the middle.

The rain was grounding. Each drop that hit rusted metal roofs and painfully bright neon marquees brought her closer to Earth, even if the earth was wearing a coat of peeling armor. The same as it was in the days before and the ones after, the appearance of day and night were blurred by the industrial lighting and the thick clouds buffering the sky like unwashed pillows.

Mercer kept her eyes peeled. That was the silver lining of the conundrum, silver linings could be found whenever you looked hard enough. The city streets were lined with stalls of content and loitered by flocks with nothing better to do with their time, people looking for something that they didn't know what they were looking for yet. They perused the shelves and tables, in search of an answer without fully knowing the question.

But she knew what she was looking for.

The Battered Market was as well-known as it was the world's best kept secret. It was a mainstay for those seeking the adventure in a gritty reality, a beacon of light for the moths of melancholy. It didn't lie about the grime, didn't try to bundle sweet nothings into shiny rust-free packages like they did on the other side of things. The long, narrowed road sandwiched in between the city's worst streets was the perfect cover for vendors of all walks of life and all layers of thick skin.

It was the perfect place to find what you needed.

Mercer waded through the crowds, gracefully weaving between stalled browsers and sliding by cantankerous cart drivers. The air smelled of motor oil and burnt wires. A sign that there was once life, an omen of a life that could be again.

She finally found a mark that caught a glint in her eye.

To the unfamiliar eye, there was nothing about this stall that stood out. There were shelves haphazardly placed, five rows stacked on all sides, but they were nearly impossible to identify with the contents piled on top of them. An unusual mosaic, an avant-garde art piece to those who had never traversed this side of town before, but each item, each half-rusted tin or unopened package had value all of its own.

The shop's teller scanned his shelves in the way he always did. The chaos of the Battered Market trained any vendor early on to make two eyes function as six. It was an art born of unforgiving necessity.

Mercer couldn't even get three feet within the stall before she was spotted and targeted.

"I've seen you around here before." His message was void of intention, his gruff voice absent of polite warmth.

For all the action the teller surely saw in the Battered Market, she was sure he didn't need any additional entertainment. "You have seen many people around here," she replied, careful to keep her words even and unperturbed.

"You're looking for something." There wasn't a question, not even a lift of intonation at the cadence of his sentence.

Her eyes moved from shelf to shelf, attention evenly divided between task and talk. "Why would someone come here if they weren't looking for something?"

The teller's face scrunched, deep lines creasing his face. "You know what it is you're looking for."

"Is that really so different from anyone else?" she bemused.