For the second time in thirty years, the entire world has fallen asleep...
Thirty years after the Greymen caused the decimation of her people, high school drop out Rain Collins spends her days learning to pickpocket and hold her booze. Yet she long...
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Kayle's current abode was a half-abandoned skyscraper on the east side of the city. She lived in part of the abandoned half, while the other half was occupied by a handful of local tailors who were in the early stages of forming a local guild. They had some electricity and running water for their facilities, and Kayle siphoned off what she needed. She always squatted in the most interesting places, bringing only the most important items with her and answering to no one.
I climbed up the switchback fire escape that wound up the side of the building, and through the upper window of Kayle's room. A metal barrel sat in the center, holding a fire. A lamp here, a cot there. Kayle sat in a chair, hunched over a table.
"Hey," I said.
She turned, her white hair catching the firelight. She squinted at the sun behind me. "Hey," she smiled and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Dunno. Probably about ten," I said, crawling onto her cot and pulling one of its several threadbare blankets around me.
"In the morning?" Kayle pushed her chair away from the desk and rubbed her eyes again.
I laughed. "Yes. What have you been up to?"
She gestured at the table in front of her. On one side was a pile of wallets, the other a pile of identification cards. Each pile overflowed onto the floor. In the center sat a stack of papers. I stepped over to the makeshift desk, blanket still around me, and picked up the stack of papers. Each one was divided into three columns: Name, Age, Loyalty.
"What is this?"
Kayle shrugged. "I've picked every pocket in this town. Thought I could do something useful with it. Dr. Farrah's trying to figure out who can help us get the people ready, help us figure out how to get them ready. I've got this big list of people, so..."
"So, you made a census?" I chuckled.
"It could help."
I scanned the pages. Several of the names were recognizable from school or the market or social events, but most were unfamiliar. "How many people?"
"I think... hold on," she took the list from me and counted the pages, then handed it back. "Thirty pages, one hundred per page. Three thousand."
"You little thief."
"Three thousand? Not so little, I'd say," she said with a grin.
"Loyalty?" I said, gesturing at the third column. "How did you measure that?"
"I guessed."
"Oh, Dr. Farrah would be proud."
"Not everything can be measured and quantified through the scientific process. Sometimes you have to just roll with the hypothesis until new information comes to light."
"How is she brainwashing you so fast? You're turning into Beth."
"Shut up. I've always been smart. Just don't have a rich dad. And anyways, it's fun. Look," she ran a finger down the column, "there are three possible options for loyalty. Either believer, non-believer, or neutral. Believers are us, non-believers are like your dad, neutral are... let's say Perry."
