DETERRENT - Apply Fic

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For men like Benji Mullins, the journey to Neo Elysium took several weeks. While it was legally possible to move out of North Marcanty, there weren't roads that led there. Benji would drive to a port and bribe a sailor, but leaving his truck in a port would guarantee it getting towed and sold for parts. He had to go to North Marcanty like any other product. Benji didn't have to pay the truck loaders who worked for the Lord, picking up the product and transporting it to the nearest train. He did have to pay the conductor, and then the sailors who would bring him into a port. He held his documents in his hands, tracing over the lines on the paper at night, his address, the land that he lived on that wasn't his and could never be.

The Neo Elysian dock workers couldn't be bribed. Benji Mullins was entering illegally since it was the only way for him to enter, but he had been invited. From The Sticks, with a smell that would bother anyone's nose but Benji's, he was whisked into The Arch and kept in a hold for three days before his Lord came and his documents were settled. He was given a band with his virtual documents that he could use around the city. The band itched his skin. Benji wished he could rip it off, he was only going to the next building.

"I see you sent in an application," the woman across from Benji says.

She is the most mechanical person he has ever seen. She is far too young for her stark white hair, a fact proven that when she tilts her head, it shimmers like the ripples on a pond on a hot day. Her cheekbones protrude in an odd way, possibly sharper than her jawline. Benji fidgets in his chair.

"Yes," Benji explains.

No one else in his community had heard of the project. Benji hadn't spread word in case one of them won the contract. It was worth all the money he'd save on labour. Rumour was that the fisheries were going to have a good season and soon enough people would flock away from the farmers. It was selfish, Benji knew it. The thought churned his stomach.

"And you didn't enter at a legally designated port?" she asks, flipping a page in the document.

"There..." Benji straightens himself, taking in a deep breath. He had worn his very best for this meeting, but he knew he smelled of sweat, of the three days he'd been kept in his holding cell. He looked from the paperwork up to the woman. "There aren't any boats out of North Marcanty that enter through an immigration port. They told me they'd drop me off at the port and then the day of they told me they'd need an extra three hundred credits for the docking fee, and I couldn't pay."

She looks up at him, dropping the paperwork. Benji wonders if they've got lots of paper out here if she's used to the way it feels. He isn't used to the metal chair. It's cold through his sweat-licked back.

The woman stands up and offers him her hand.

"Benjemin Mullins," she mispronounces his name as she stands. It's so common he's surprised. She offers him a hand, "your application has been approved."

~~~

Gale doesn't even have a chance to run. He's at work, wearing gloves and protective glasses and earmuffs. His senses were numb, all the better since his nose burned. He could taste the fire lingering in the air. It was easy to tune out the world, grabbing packages and sealing them on the assembly line. The products they were shipping were going to Underpass City. He could never live in a place like that. No rain.

There are hands are his arms and before he can even twist his head, he's been pulled off the line. Officers wrap their hands tightly around his arms. Gale tries to pull away, to move, but he can't. Gale doesn't know how they caught him, how they knew it was him. He's got a clean record, no details written down that would lead to him.