Rusty Land

Consciousness

A fog considered by some to contain aphrodisiacs began to fade away and gradually gave way for rays of rising sun which made the metal city turn bright red. We would be foolish to look for a few in the desert but we could surely quench thirst in nice people's cafés and bars... The wind rushed red dust through the streets and if nobody will step on it, it won't move until next evening.
But something substantially bigger than the dust moved in tight, dark passage. Netheriel stood up and shook the desert dust of his clothes, also he shook of the newspapers which shielded him from the chilly wind. He sighed; he couldn't remember last night at all. He grabbed his brown leather vest from a thrown away doll sitting next to the wall and when he was putting it on, he could not stop thinking about that the mechanical dummy meant something for someone, possibly there is a soul of someone dead inside of it. And noone can help the poor soul. Even though Edgar McAllistair raised his 'reviving' business to great and famous factories, Netheriel didn't consider it a right thing. He, an orphan himself... He wouldn't want to see his beloved mother like this. Not even for the feeling that she will never leave him.
...An the song in addition... He walked to the streets and headed to the airport. The town was dead silent so Netheriel was not too shy to let out sad tones of the Elysium song. Ordinary citizen wouldn't dare to sing it or he would at least feel uncomfortable because this silent song was the only way how the souls imprisoned in unmoving dolls could communicate. But it somehow fascinated our little Netheriel and he sang it everytime he needed to forget about his loneliness. It's​ hard not to mention that normally this problem was solved by the twilight fog and a bar. He didn't try to fool himself into thinking that the informations about the aphrodisiacs are just talks.
As he walked down a dusty street, he made a ponytail of his long pitch black hair, he didn't want to look like a cute girl in his first day in job. Especially because it could anger the boss. He was... A castrate. Well and the hair could get in the way of his work. He didn't want to end up hanging below an airship flying high above New Albion.
Once mighty Zeppelin factory was now hiding in the shadow of McAllistair's doll factory but yet Netheriel was proud of himself because now he won't have to rely on lonely men lost in the twilight fog and he will take care of himself properly. He's sixteen, that more than enough.
He came among the first ones but not earlier than the boss. He was already waiting for Netheriel.
"You're the new one, eh? Someone I'll like at last," he grinned and patted the nervous boys shoulder. Untypically he also had long tied hair, only fair and wavy.
"T-thank you for the chance, sir," the boy smiled and tried not to the red. He immediately thought about seducing him, he would enjoy it and he would get a better position in the factory... But it was impossible here. What a shame...
"No worries, it must be fate," the boss laughed and took Netheriel by his hand just like a small child, led him through the factory. Netheriel started thinking about the talks concerning fate here in New Albion, especially among the drunkards in the bars. There is no such thing as a chance they say; fate is decided by the boss of mafia, a red-haired dwarf. He uses two silver dice for this purpose. Netheriel never believed and laughed at everyone who tried to convince him about it, but whatever. Even at the very beginning of New Albion a similar argument took place.
The castrate led Netheriel into quite small room full of smoke with several typewriters and the boy could rest easy; even though he would be grateful for manual job as well, this just suited him a lot better. The boss took him to his desk in the corner. It was a cozy space near the window which was very pleasant due to the smoke of cigars. Netheriel smiled gratefully and sad down in his chair. It was made from wood, it could turn around and many other employees covered them in cozy fur. The boy thought about buying one as one of the first things once he gets his salary.  Not because of the cold, it was just more comfortable than bare wood.
The handsome boss explained him his position a he was so nice that Netheriel couldn't stop being red in face. At last he went away because besides being a boss he was also a pilot. Instead of him his colleagues started to appear.