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by Circ on Wed Aug 22, 2007 6:51 pm
Thick, noxious air billows in a visible miasma over the slums of Careo Fas, accenting with a yellow tinct the otherwise dull umber of the dilapidated buildings. Structures in that part of town are primarily made of crumbling red brick, rusty iron beams, and asbestos siding; compacted layers of grime, dust, dirt, and graffiti cover everything, blending it all into a massive, meaningless assemblage of uninspiring shapes. The people are just as bad to look at, with worn clothes stained with dirt, blood, sweat, gyzym, and whatever other bodily fluids can be sucked out of person. These venal sewer-dwellers lead an explicit lifestyle filled with violence, sex, anger, disease, and poverty. Not the good variety, either.
Between the tavern and the launderette is a building with a handful of apartments, but the number of beggars crammed in there is staggering, especially vis-Ć -vis with the full force of their unwashed, communal stench. In Careo Fas, luxuries like water are only for the wealthy, so ghastly smells are something the poor simply endure; after a while, they donāt even notice them. Inside the complex is a cupboard, deceitfully posturing as a tenement; a mangy mattress, nightstand, and single chair are all one can cram in and, as it is located under a stair, the steeply slanting ceiling has the marks to prove it has felled many a body by the head.
Within this dainty niche lives a young man who abandoned his family for the pursuit of independence, but as those things go, one form of slavery led to another. All he wants to do is get off the planet. As far as he knows and is concerned, the festering, Brobdingnagian turd flailing about in its orbit is not worth staying on and can go to hell, if there is one. He wants to leave, and the damn shame is he canāt.
His name is Spencer, and he is a street performer. He spins and somersaults half-naked on the sidewalk for a few pennies a day, which is just enough to pay his rent and get a few nibbles in here and there; the rest he puts aside for his ticket away.
conditio sine qua non
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