No one remembers the day the world shattered.
They imagine it happened in a flash.
Too bright for anyone to see. Far too quick for anyone to believe. But one thing we all do remember.
It happened.
And since then nothing has ever been the same.
Four-hundred dogged years on this fractured float of rubble we call home. I see more cloud and less land everyday. Everyday more of us are consumed by the white wall.
At first it was wondrous, especially as a child, I remember skyhopping across the clouds with Reese and Van to welcome back the Scouts from their Skywanders. Those memories of home are a dream, but the days we live now are a nightmares.
We live in uncertainty. Fear of the other side. Wondering each day if we'll wake up and see The Spire amongst the horizon, or if our Skyyard will slip into the White Rush.
I've been perched at the top of my outpost for the three hours now – not even halfway through my shift - watching the sun set the clouds a vibrant swirl of purple and orange, while nursing a bitter bottle of Ironeye Whiskey.
The Scouts were due back an hour ago, but less and less come back each day now. It has gotten so bad, they don't even bother to sound the alarm any more. Each time a Scout goes on a Skywander, they go knowing it's likely their last. Returning is a privilege, not the embarking on a Skywander itself.
My mother begs me to leave my job, find work away from the White Rush. Away from The Rim. But even if I wanted to, how could I? I am not of Earthblood. I'll never be allowed to work alongside those at The Spire. They'll never see any of us as their equal.
I'm not even a scout! I'd shout. Then she'd get upset, call Van and claim I don't love her enough. But that's not the truth. Everything I do is to ease her troubles, her pain when the ghost of my father haunts her mind, when the struggles of this life we are forced to live, become too much.
Can you believe she was going to sell her Cloudforge, and give me the raise, just so I could quit? Crazy.
Forging is all she has. Seeking is all I'm worth.
The Rim is where we all belong.
I'm a lookout - an analyst if I'm drunk enough. I spend the bulk of my day lofted at the tip of an outpost, peering into the upside down waterfall of cloud that menaces before me, awaiting the return of Scouts. Though like I said, there has been less returning each day and the pressure on the Vault to produce new Scouts is on the rise. Almost anyone can get in now, since they are hosting express examinations every other week.
Reese is excited, he can't stop talking about it. This is it! I'll finally get to go on a Skywander. I try to convince him otherwise but the stubborn fool would walk into a fire if it had a "not hot" sign on it.
I wouldn't go on a Skywander, not even for all the money in Aer. It can keep all the relics and ruins. This outpost is as close as I'll get to the White Rush.
The Distants.
That's what I want. Somewhere safe, decent, away from The Rim, away from this damned white wall, and out of the clutches of those Earthblood who run The Spire.
"Col," Reese calls from my right as he pops his head from the top of the ladder. "Col, you won't believe this!" He hunkers down beside me in his ghostly grey cloak. "Remember how I told you I was going to sign up for the Scout Regime?"
"And I told you not to, because you'll get yourself killed?"
"Yes," Reese nibbles at his slither of a bottom lip and fights back a grin.
