Chapter I Part IV

Chapter I Part IV

The trip to the workshop was as uneventful as ever, at this time of night both the highways and skyways were pretty clear, which in fact meant that traffic was flowing and not bumper to bumper.

Also at this time of night the Leviathans usually did their manoeuvring, to and from the various types of docks to load up with whatever they needed for their next journey to wherever it was they went to, they seemed to rarely come back. Although Anjali took very little notice of them, the Leviathans did come back, just not in the same state they left in, they almost always needed a refit, though that in turn meant there was always work in the navel yards.

Anjali's favourite part of the trip to the workshop was always up on the skyways, at this time of night she could zip in and out of the traffic, going left and right, over and under, any transports that she came across. Every now and again she might come across something a bit faster than the normal run of the mill p-trans (personal transports), tugs and heavies (heavy transports), and tonight she found herself racing a nice looking low-slung speedster. The driver obviously relished having some freedom to open up his throttle on the skyway, although it wasn't clear if he was actually racing Anjali, or just trying to get rid of the annoying little scooter on his tail. Anjali didn't care, it was fun just tailing the guy for a bit, speeding around the middle and upper terraces of the city. Pretty soon though she had to head back down to ground level, onto the slow moving highways, but only for a short time. Taking the next exit, Anjali took the feed even further down to street level. Down here was almost always devoid of much mechanical traffic, it was all people, and rubbish. Going was even slower down here, but she only had a short distance to go to her Dad's workshop.

As she approached, pressing the button on her handle bar to open the door, Anjali momentarily looked up. It was when she was down here that the city felt so oppressive. That was what made her feel so small, and fuelled her desire to escape. At street level there seemed to be a spaghetti of cables criss-crossing from one building to another, usually with some sort of rubbish caught up in the web or wires, that alone blocked out most of the natural light, but beyond the web were the towers. Each one a mini city in it's own right. At the street level were the slums, workshops, and infrastructure needed for each tower to work, the lungs, heating systems and waste units for the higher levels. Then as you went higher up the tower, each terrace had it's own class of stores and housing, first the black collar workers, then blue, and so on until you got to the very top level, the penthouses of the officers, teachers and preachers of the Makarium. As a whole they were known as the Makariatte, and they saved the best for themselves, after all they were the keepers and protectors of the general population.

But down here, in the Trough, life was a million miles away from those lofty heights. The streets were fogged with both the cold air, and steam from vents in the buildings and the streets. The steam was a necessary evil, it was what kept the place warm, but it was also the source of the fogs. The fog made the streetlights seem to glow, and the ever present Vidiverts for the Makarium and the Forces, they were everywhere. The only other source of light down here came from the buildings themselves, either the street signs for the workshops and mechanics, or from the higher heights, as though it were some sort of artificial day light. Every now and again though, a chink of real light from the Sun would sneak past the buildings, the cables and rubbish, even out shine the Vidiverts, and show the Trough in a new light, even though it lit up all the grim detail, it seemed to make it a little more bearable, a little more human.

Just outside her Dads workshop was one of those spots where real daylight could break through, but not at the moment, it was dusk, and the glowing city was silhouetted against the glow of fog and mist.

As the door to the work shop slowly slid itself open the warm glow of the interior lights drew Anjali's attention, and she was back somewhere safe, somewhere she felt important and normal again.

“Hello Anjali! I am glad you are here, I need your help!”