I’M SO SORRY, but I don’t have anything that I can offer right now… Marcus’ words repeated over and over in Jenny’s mind, lining up perfectly with everything she’d been told since she arrived and attempted to find work.
With every rejection came more misery and a feeling of immense worthlessness. Staring at a large building in the distance (Frost Enterprises), dread crept into her gut as she realized she was just a tiny part in a very big machine. An unemployed woman in a sprawling city that only saw women in limited roles was a daunting prospect, one that made her crave the feel of a shovel or working the unforgiving soil with her bare hands. At least there was some independence.
The barkeep had been much kinder than the others though, forgoing any added insults or outbursts, unlike the man Jenny had asked at the fraternal building a few doors down from the saloon. He just screamed, so loudly that his face became puce, and he used a stiff broom to jab at her like some rodent.
Honestly how did you expect things to be, Jenny? her inner voice gnawed. Different from the Gulch? Where everyone would suddenly be lining up and begging for you to work for them?
Moping through the marketplace, dispirited by her own roaming thoughts, Jenny spotted another structure peeking over the rooftops toward the southwest. Enrobed in a shroud of steam, it was tall and made of latticed metal. She thought it might be the city’s broadcast tower, since it resembled a much smaller version back home, but she didn’t get much time to think on it before a wave of shoulders jostled her. One deliberately hard shove managed to snap her out of the slump and evoke the words of her grandfather, Mr. Johnston, and even Aftershock all at the same time.
They told her simply not to give up and that the current situation was a test of her resolve. Taking the timely arrival of those words to heart, she lifted her head with a modicum of pride. She watched and listened to those around her, hearing dark murmurs about the raiders attacking the Gulch and a lot of choice words about how stupid and deserving the settlers were to live out there in the first place.
Jenny became heated, wanting to tell those women how ignorant they were, but then a cascade of thoughts refocused her and she realized she was at a disadvantage; every opportunity for work and lodging in the borough was exhausted.
Thankfully, she had picked up some leads by overhearing conversations during her search. Unfortunately, they were mostly disreputable and located deeper within the city, leaving her with little choice but to try, no matter how much she wanted to avoid it. Imagining Diablo like some great tree, the outer, inner, and center areas were like concentric rings in its trunk. The outermost edge regions, like Comprass and its sister boroughs, were akin to bark, most rugged and varied, whereas the inner portion was far more uniform and regimented. Much of the support that bore the brunt of society’s weight was there, while the very center, most insulated and hardest to reach, was where the most money and elites dwelled.
Most the work Jenny got wind of were for show and slop shops, producing cheap, bespoke and ready-made articles of clothing craved by the masses to satiate their thirst for outrageous fashion. Uniforms for the clergy, Rangers, and prisons were also coveted, and all detested by legitimate tailors that catered in fine-crafted attire for the wealthy. Not that the idea wasn’t loathed by Jenny as well, with little desire to sweat and sew her fingers to the bone by hand in modest light. However, it was money no matter how pitiable the pay, anything greater than zero being a blessing.
From Comprass she reluctantly headed to the northwest and was soon entering a neighboring borough, passing beneath a large stone arch with a placard attached to it. It said Ganado, or at least did at one time; the letter N was worn away and the O was caked with a layer of grime so thick it was illegible. The sight didn’t do a thing to prevent Jenny having second thoughts about proceeding. Nevertheless, she continued down thin paths no wider than alleyways and with each step the light seemed to drain away while the walls closed in. The color of the masonry also faded as the very warmth was stripped out of the air.
Somewhere, unseen in the distance, livestock brayed between the sounds of jeering men and cracking whips, the noise echoing off the unsympathetic walls before getting lost in the noise of the busy market. Catching a whiff of dung and the blood, its metallic taste hanging in the back of her throat, Jenny shuddered, visualizing a scene of carnage on a scale that was difficult to purge, even though she was used to slaughtering animals from life on the farm.
Similarly, Jenny thought she knew what it was to be destitute, until Diablo challenged her on that front, too, like some sick talent. Gloomy people with obscured faces were crouched and laid in front of similar properties, all alive with insects. The sight made her skin scrawl as she passed by many poor souls lining both sides of the street.
The classes weren’t neatly demarcated in Diablo, or elsewhere in the world for that matter. Workhands, craftsmen, artisans, and even educated working folk were all cowering against the despair of the world, having no hope of earning an assured wage due to illness, disability, or other maladies. One thing was certain among the uncertainty: there wasn’t a single trace of anyone elite gracing those dark roads.
Jenny scurried through the area as fast as she could, feeling as though wandering eyes were on her even though they were all either dipped or hooded. She passed from the frying pan into the fire, entering subsequently seedier areas of town.
The next one was rife with organized fighting; dark-skinned wanderers being pitted against a few raider hostages that day. Emotions and bets were high, as were raised boos, cheers, and fists. Jenny could tell two of the bandits were from the Devil’s Shadow, being familiar with their style of outfits, but the others must have been from different clans.
She moved on and into another commercial zone where clunky, angular robots were being used for manual labor. Having heard stories of marvelous machines that looked, walked, and even talked like people, she was disappointed by what she saw. Those tales were obviously exaggerated, since these things were just glorified tools, beeping and whirring instead of conversing with anyone around.
Reaching a crossroads, two longstanding timber signs indicated she was, ironically, on Opportunity Walk; the other road was called Fisher Lane. She had no idea where these places were, nor where to go for that matter. Looking up and down the intersection trying not to worry, she saw a few recessed alcoves and tight backstreets that were shaded from the bright sun.
Seeing nothing of concern, she chose to go right, gasping when a couple of oily men unexpectedly emerged at the end of the closest alleyway. They loitered in high leather boots and tight trousers, staring at her with eyes full of wicked intent.
“Hey lady!” said a husky man on the left in a pleasant, but obviously rehearsed, tone.
The man beside him was taller and less appealing; that is if the first could even be considered such.
“Are you lost?” he probed. “If so, we’ll be glad to help get you where you need to be…”
“I’m fine,” Jenny cut sternly, starting to walk past them.
No way am I going anywhere with you two, she continued in thought, instantly reminded of Jebidiah. There’s always someone like this in every settlement and in this city, there’s probably so many that it rivals the population of small town.
“Aw, come on,” the tall one persisted, shifting agitatedly on his feet. “I know that you want to.”
“We have a lot of things to offer,” said the husky one, advancing. “You traveling all by yourself? This place can be a maze if you aren’t sure where you’re going.”
He reached down and grazed the front of his trousers before extending his arm.
“Get off!” Jenny demanded, recoiling as he tried to latch onto her.
She flicked her arm hard and it struck his. He stumbled backward into the lanky man.
“Wow! Did you just say no? To me?”
“Pretty bitch did more than that, Garrett,” the lanky one answered, sliding one of his busted-up hands into a pocket. He pulled out a knife, which caught a beam of sunlight and shined. “I think she needs to be taught a lesson.”
“I think that I’ve learned plenty about this place for today,” Jenny told them, “and recommend that you not even try what you’re thinking.”
Both men hooted, Garrett producing a similar blade which he tossed skillfully in the air.
“You hear that Tony?” he said, snatching the embellished handle as it spun. “She thinks she can tell me what to do.”
“Maybe she’s confused by her place,” Tony replied, “thinking she’s got something dangling between those legs? Come here sweet thing, you don’t look like a man to me. I’ve got the proper tools so let me check things out. I’ll promise to be gentle, at first.”
“You heard me,” she warned. “Don’t even try it.”
Tony grunted, moving toward her anyway, a swell now straining against his front. Garrett followed, both so close that their foul breath caught in her nostrils and moved her hair. Tony smiled, flecks of meat crammed in the spaces between his teeth.
He was first to put a hand on her shoulder…
… and Jenny whipped around fast. There was a soft thud followed by a pained groan, her boot having met him right between the legs. He hit the ground seemingly in slow motion, wincing and clutching at his crotch.
Garrett launched himself at Jenny, wasting no time swiping at her.
Jenny spun out of the way of each pass before making contact, smacking his knife arm. The blade few off, clanking down the alley and before Garrett even realized, her fist smashed into the side of his ratty face.
“You stupid whore!” he roared, using a thumb to wipe away the stream of blood that started pouring from his lower lip.
He didn’t remove much, smearing it more than anything. Glancing down, he grabbed hold of a revolver mounted to his belt.
“Now you’re going to get…”
Click.
The all-too-familiar sound of a hammer cocking reached his ears. Lifting his eyes slowly, they met the end of a junk pistol’s barrel.
“I happen to have the proper tools, too,” Jenny said confidently. “So how do you want this to end? By letting me go about my business, or your brains adding a bit of color to this dingy place?”
Tony was still groaning on the ground, his excitement gone, replaced with rage.
“What are you waiting for you idiot! Shoot her!”
Garrett used a forearm to wipe his deepened brow, slinking over to Tony. Hovering over him for a second, he leaned over and eased the man onto his knees, then his feet.
Jenny’s heart was beating fast though you wouldn’t know by her expression, forged well by her encounters with Jebidiah. She traced their path the entire time with her gun, patiently waiting for an answer.
“Garrett, you lose your manhood somewhere?” Tony muttered, turning attention to Jenny as his deep breaths filled the alley. “That piece of shit you’re holding probably doesn’t even work.”
He snatched Garrett’s gun and pointed it right at her.
“This one, on the other hand, just killed a loser far worse than you this morning.”
“Mine works just fine,” she replied calmly, the back of her neck sweating. “I would show you, but that’d just be a waste of a bullet on my part.”
“Better a wasted bullet than you drawing anymore wasted air! I’m done talking!”
Before Tony could act, another voice spoke from behind.
“Are you sure about that?” it asked smoothly. “You shoot and I’m positive you’ll be doing far more talking, but to the authorities. I am sure such fine gentlemen like yourselves wouldn’t want to deal with Frost sentries now, would you?”
Garrett and Tony didn’t turn but Jenny leaned to her left, trying to get a view of who was there. Down in the shadows stood another woman, wearing a lacy black dress and matching corset. Her collared top was tan with short sleeves and its plunging neckline was crisscrossed with thin black straps. She had a rather ornate pistol drawn herself, pointed right at the thugs.
“Evelyn,” Tony sneered. “Don’t you have anything better to do than pester us?”
“Well, that all depends on the answer you have for this lady; she’s waiting.”
Garrett stayed quiet while Tony was visibly annoyed. His teeth were grinding against each other as an eyebrow twitched.
“I really don’t think this should be that hard of a choice,” Evelyn said, smirking. “Or maybe it is, since she addled your lower brain with that kick.”
“Fine!” Tony yelled. “Have it your way Evelyn, just know we’re not going to let this little incursion go unpaid.”
“You keep my tab open, precious. Now, be on your way.”
Evelyn watched keenly as the two men crept by Jenny and raced down Fisher Street. Tony, despite his best efforts, seemed to struggle doing something akin to a gallop.
“Thank you,” Jenny said, sighing with relief. She holstered her pistol.
“You’re most welcome,” Evelyn replied, doing the same. “Sad thing about deadbeats like that is they’ll be back, like some persistent sickness you can’t get rid of. But we’ve wasted enough time talking about them, let’s talk about you for a second. It’s not often I come across someone that skilled in handling the trash, especially one wearing a dress.”
Jenny blushed, finding a little comfort in the complement.
“Not from around here, are you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes, it is and to be honest I couldn’t be happier,” Evelyn said, looking thrilled. “As you’ve probably seen, it’s terribly regimented around the city as far as what roles people play; what they can and cannot do.”
“I’ve seen that pretty much everywhere I’ve been,” Jenny replied, tinted with woe.
“Doesn’t make it right,” Evelyn said, looking at their surroundings. “Come on, though, there are better places to talk than this grimy place.”
Jenny nodded as Evelyn motioned her hand back toward the street and the two women began walking down Fisher, making another left turn a short way down.
“Thankfully I hear it’s not the case everywhere on Eaugen, but areas like Lagos and Barro are few and far between,” Evelyn continued. “What irritates me the most is that the only person who seems to be doing anything to help is Winthrope, though he is still mired in playing elite games and his scope seems broader. As far as the rest goes, inaction when you know for a fact something is amiss is just as bad as the action itself, at least in my humble opinion.”
That was the second time someone had mentioned how good of a person Winthrope was, making Jenny regret her decision to lump him amongst the worst of society. Now, she found herself intrigued, especially having seen him at the market earlier. Though the notion was downright silly, she held onto a small hope that she would be able to meet him one day.
“So where are you from?” Evelyn asked softly, not wishing to jolt Jenny from her thoughts.
Jenny answered with her name, then proceeded to tell Evelyn about her life on the farm outside of the Gulch, and about the horrific raider attack that came on them not two nights ago. Using the captive tale that Aftershock crafted, she omitted his part in her rescue entirely for reasons of trust.
“I had heard of that attack just this morning and can see how someone like you managed to escape their clutches,” Evelyn observed. “Poor souls, the rest of them. We’re living in frightful times if our own borders and the officials can’t keep chaos at bay. So, you’ve come to this city looking for work?”
“Yes,” Jenny answered hopefully, “and lodging.”
“I’ll be honest with you: times have been tough, more than I’ve seen in a long time. I’m not sure if that and the raider attacks getting worse are related in any way, but we’re still affected nonetheless.”
“Are you saying there isn’t any work here?”
“Oh, there is work in Diablo, further in. Good work. There’s nothing left like that in Comprass, the borough you came from, or here in Ganado,” Evelyn stated. “I’m sure you saw the wonders along Opportunity Way. Most of those people have given up with life and are but a whisper away from death. Others that can’t handle the work at the factory houses have turned to other, less honorable means of making money.”
The two entered a wide-open space with what looked like abandoned livestock pens. Deep in their filthy recesses pairs of legs were raised and swaying in tune to the sounds of grunts and low thumping.
“It’s not pretty is it?” Evelyn said. “But, it’s something to put food on the table, especially when the alternatives are so limited and grim.”
Jenny caught a glimpse of several bots, more advanced than the ones she’d seen performing manual labor, tending to some garish men at the back of one of the stalls. There were real women there too, all intermingled in disgusting and smelly glory.
It was off-putting and something Jenny could never see herself doing, but something about it managed to cause her soul to ache.
“Many of the girls here see themselves doing this for a few years, since it’s an easy way to build up finances for bigger and better things.”
“The conditions though,” Jenny said in disbelief. “They’re hardly clean. Surely diseases…”
“Manage to cut those plans short?” Evelyn finished for her. “A lot are. Quite a vicious little circle of hell Diablo is, especially since foul wards aren’t the best place for a young woman to be spotted if she wants any chance at normality after her few years in the game.”
Evelyn noted Jenny’s manner. The reality was hard to swallow and she knew that Jenny wouldn’t go down such a path just by the look on her face now.
“But that’s where people like me come in,” Evelyn continued. “You gave me your name but I’ve yet to give you my full one. Evelyn Richards, owner of Eeevee’s Brothel and Safe House. It’s not the best profession, but is one that gets girls out of places like this.”
Jenny was hesitant to shake her hand based on the discussion they just had, but sucked it up and did so out of goodwill. She imagined Evelyn’s place to match her attire: graceful, comforting, and clean despite the nature of her guests and their clients.
“Every little bit helps,” said Evelyn, escorting Jenny from the pens into another street and even though the passage was tighter, it didn’t feel as confining.
“I think so, too,” said Jenny. “I hope that I can see the day things change for the better, like back home before the fall. It would have been great to not worry about the land being seized just because no men survived.”
“Exactly,” Evelyn said. “We are still human, despite efforts to make us feel less. Hell, none of them would be around if we weren’t! It’s one of my deepest beliefs that all of us share common privileges granted by nature and yes, even other people. If I can convince any one of these forgotten souls of that, then I feel like my work is meaningful, even if not viewed as moral. Our society, the current one at least, values classes, and money, and power over all else, when at the end of the day we never purchased a thing – especially our freedom – when coming into the world, nor will we take anything with us when we leave it. We are all equal in that regard and that fact will always be. Who is then to say that one person is more deserving of a right than another, and if so, on what basis have they been granted such authority?”
Jenny didn’t have those answers, nor thought she ever would. She did have a question of her own, though, developing as they walked for some time with nothing new to see.
“You mentioned something earlier about factories?” Jenny asked at last, having had her fill of stale brick walls.
“Yes, the factories are in a borough called Sucio. It’s three away from here, to the south. Ah! Here we are.”
Evelyn lead Jenny down another alleyway and after much winding, it opened into a brighter and more populous area. Filled mainly with women, they were all dressed well in similar fashion and topped with lively faces. Straight ahead, a handsome building of dark brick and wood rose above the dull cobblestones. Pretty drapes hung in the windows and between them more young girls stared out into the square. The front door was also open, teasing at a warm and inviting interior as the youngest of them swept the foyer.
“It’s getting on a little,” Evelyn said, pointing up to the sky. Some of the women had gathered around, more interested in Jenny’s new face than anything else. “You are more than welcome to stay here with us for the night. Sucio is not far as the birds fly, but by the time you navigate the all the streets to get there, it will close to dark. There are no inns around the factories, either. Only shantytowns, though Winthrope does keep his workers well, unlike Frost, or any of the other proprietors.”
Jenny looked once more at the building then all the congregated faces with respect. They were gemstones amongst the miserable surroundings and she felt genuinely welcome. That alone made her want to stay.
“Jenny, I know you can handle yourself, but please join us,” Evelyn urged. “I can then accompany you in the early morning if you like.”
“Did you say Winthrope?” she asked.
“Yes, he is probably the best person to work for in all of Diablo, not only from the lodging and wages standpoint, since he’s also not that bad to look at.”
Laughter filled the square and Jenny recalled Jesse’s face from the market… there was something about it that sent her heart fluttering…
“Frost is one to avoid,” she continued. “He’s just a self-interested bastard out for himself. It would be a win on both counts if there were an opening at Winthrope Limited, but realize that factory work is not easy work at all. There are long hours without many breaks, and the foreman is one piece of work.”
“What about him?”
Evelyn lifted her shoe, which had collected a thin layer of wet grime on the sole, and pointed at it.
“That’s a pretty good description of the man.”
Jenny didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe, but either way the pros did outweigh the cons in the situation.
“Lovely,” she said, requiring no more to persuading to stay, much to the excitement of the girls. “Evelyn, words don’t seem enough thank or repay you for this hospitality.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she replied casually. “Just remember everything we talked about today as you grow, as I know you will. That’s all that I can ask for. Well, that and if you could please assist Martha with tonight’s dinner. Poor thing; it’s her turn and she can’t cook worth a damn. It might be the anniversary of the Burning, but I don’t think that it’s meant to apply to the food.”
When work was plentiful, workhands and other laborers could make up to five Spurs (half a Gear) per day while craftsman and fine artisans up to triple that amount. Educated workers could earn up to five Gears per day while trappers and hunters made the most of the ‘low classes’ since they also had some of the most dangerous duties. Depending on the beast, earnings could be up to ten Gears per day. The pay scale for elites and government officials far exceeded that of the other classes, ranking at hundreds to even thousands of Gears per day independent of workload.