The tavern slowly came to life as the daylight faded. Much to the dismay of their unknowing partners, bearded men equipped with prosthetic arms stumbled to a barstool. Likewise, women armed to the teeth with knives sat down for a pint of the latest brew. The most gorgeous gold-adorned whores you've ever seen nibbled on Moira's beer-battered fries at a corner table. Mud-covered farmers and scar-covered mechanics dined on roasted trout all the same beneath the flickering amber lights. Here, all were equal. Moira had no tolerance for harassment, so nobody dared to try anything but politeness in this corner of Nether, the land between Solas and the Badlands.
Moira and her ten-year-old, Phoebe, scrambled to bus the tables as Segen, the fry cook, served up platters of fresh sandwiches, roasted meats, and delightful salads. Save the young children who snuck their daily catch to the tavern in exchange for food tickets, you could almost forget about the ration laws.
My leather gloved hands cupped around my tea, I stared across at Mr. Hawaiian and his young companion.
"So, Mr. -" began the Hawaiian-shirted stranger.
"It's Arden. Just Arden," I interrupted.
"We've come a long way in search of help. We're interested in ending the occupation of our...friends."
"Well, I'm not sure what help I'd be with that," I chuckled. "I'm not exactly a one man army."
"Oh, no. Nothing like that. We're just looking for somebody useful."
"An arms dealer? For the sixth time, I don't work with those assholes."
"No - not at all. Shit. I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Rem. Rem Terrence. And this is Felix. We're looking for a person last seen in the Badlands Massacre of '93."
"Buddy, I'm the occasional bounty hunter. Not a necromancer. Who sent you anyways?"
"It seems like you can't help us, then. Thank you for your time, Arden." Rem sighed heavily and took a swig of a lime-infused beer. Bags framed his weary brown eyes.
Meanwhile, Felix fidgeted in their seat. Their scruffy royal blue hair hid all but the tip of dark feather earrings in each ear. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the young traveler was playing with a small compass-like device resting atop a bound leather notebook. The dial spun as if possessed, occasionally flicking in my general direction.
"It's a valence." Felix announced without looking. Their voice was soft yet sharp.
"A valence?" I played dumb. Oh, but I knew what the blasted thing was. I eyed the copper side of the main needle as it spun in circles. Given my age, I doubt it would be able to recognize my trace, but I worried still.
"They were used to track Residents during the War of White," Felix continued.
"Well, I doubt it was much use. Look at it" Rem scoffed.
"Most of them don't work anymore. But they were useful for tracking modified people. As in, those infected with the latest biological code tech."
"Felix. Please. Not this again," Rem begged. "We've been over this. The legends are exaggerated. Look around you. There's modified people everywhere."
The copper side flicked towards me before hurtling again in a circle.
"Is it supposed to spin that much?" I asked.
"It's normally still. Places like this make it go crazy." With a small sigh, Felix tucked the valence away.
"Look. I don't think I can help you. But...maybe if you tell me who sent you I can find you somebody who might be able to help."
YOU ARE READING
Creatures Like Me
Science FictionHigh tech and high stakes. Welcome to a dystopian society permeated by A.I. and ravaged by a war between the Orobani and Pacai'i. A war that everyone has forgotten except for the few that should not have survived. As the dystopian Orobani leaders re...
