When night fell on the City, it did so wholly, with a sort of monochrome haze that drained the very life and color from everything around it. Not that there was much life or color to begin with—little to see but the shiny metal and glass of modern construction, interspersed with black and white. The occasional faded-out blue or green was a daring protest, really, and of colors like red or yellow or purple, most people could only vaguely dream. There was concrete, and asphalt, and steel and clear panes of reinforced plexiglass, and by and large, that was it. It was a world Stella was quite used to, and one she’d learned to blend with, disguising her own brighter hues so they melded right into the dull watercolor of the rest. To stand out was to invite scrutiny, and to invite scrutiny was often to be disappeared.
Sighing to herself, she fit the key into the lock of her shop, Tree of Knowledge Booksellers, and turned until she felt the catch of the deadbolt. The sign had been turned to CLOSED about an hour ago, but as she’d received a rare shipment of new stock, she’d stayed later than she usually would to take inventory and set everything up to be shelved tomorrow. The shop, as its name, was inherited—Stella had never seen an actual tree in her life, and she doubted the previous owner had either. But it seemed somehow to fit; unlike most buildings in the City, the store still had some wood in it, mostly the shelves and the counter, and though they were a slightly red-tinted brown, they, and the spines of the books they held, were probably the most colorful things in her life, which wasn’t saying much.
The young proprietor shoved her keys into the pocket of her coat—late fall meant winter was approaching, and soon enough, the government Seasonal Climate Program would start to pepper in days of snowfall, ostensibly so it would be easier to forget that they lived in a contained, sterilized environment, where no natural snow would ever reach. Not that she wanted it to—anything from Outside was long toxic and fetid by now. It would probably poison most people. She wondered distantly if it would poison her. It didn’t really matter. If all went according to plan, she’d never have to find out.
One of her hands dropped to the head of the massive wolfhound at her side, and she rubbed thoughtfully behind his ear for a moment. There was enough food for the stray cats around, and she’d changed the water this morning, so that should be fine, too. Everything accounted for, she turned way from the shop and started the trek home. Three miles wasn’t much for her at all, and she preferred it to the overcrowded skytrains, or the incredibly expensive hovertaxis. The walk was very quiet—citizens without actual business were rarely to be seen on these streets at night, since the pleasure districts were a few miles in the other direction. It was all residential neighborhoods here, and individual homes were as a rule so well soundproofed that you could murder someone without the person next door having the faintest clue.
Probably why it was so easy to disappear people.
Pursing her lips, Stella let the cynical thought go with another sigh, curling her fingers a bit in Ash’s thick ruff of fur. He was such a height that it was perfectly comfortable to walk that way, and the warmth of another living being was a comfort, even if she did not recognize it as such. She glanced up, perhaps in hopes of seeing the stars through the Dome, but the night sky was overcast, and she shook her head and dropped her chin so she was once more looking straight ahead. It was then that the first drop of rain hit her head, and Stella frowned.
“Of course.” And she’d left her umbrella at her apartment that morning, and still had two miles to go. Well, she supposed she’d just be getting soaked then—no point in dwelling on it.
Sighing to herself, she fit the key into the lock of her shop, Tree of Knowledge Booksellers, and turned until she felt the catch of the deadbolt. The sign had been turned to CLOSED about an hour ago, but as she’d received a rare shipment of new stock, she’d stayed later than she usually would to take inventory and set everything up to be shelved tomorrow. The shop, as its name, was inherited—Stella had never seen an actual tree in her life, and she doubted the previous owner had either. But it seemed somehow to fit; unlike most buildings in the City, the store still had some wood in it, mostly the shelves and the counter, and though they were a slightly red-tinted brown, they, and the spines of the books they held, were probably the most colorful things in her life, which wasn’t saying much.
The young proprietor shoved her keys into the pocket of her coat—late fall meant winter was approaching, and soon enough, the government Seasonal Climate Program would start to pepper in days of snowfall, ostensibly so it would be easier to forget that they lived in a contained, sterilized environment, where no natural snow would ever reach. Not that she wanted it to—anything from Outside was long toxic and fetid by now. It would probably poison most people. She wondered distantly if it would poison her. It didn’t really matter. If all went according to plan, she’d never have to find out.
One of her hands dropped to the head of the massive wolfhound at her side, and she rubbed thoughtfully behind his ear for a moment. There was enough food for the stray cats around, and she’d changed the water this morning, so that should be fine, too. Everything accounted for, she turned way from the shop and started the trek home. Three miles wasn’t much for her at all, and she preferred it to the overcrowded skytrains, or the incredibly expensive hovertaxis. The walk was very quiet—citizens without actual business were rarely to be seen on these streets at night, since the pleasure districts were a few miles in the other direction. It was all residential neighborhoods here, and individual homes were as a rule so well soundproofed that you could murder someone without the person next door having the faintest clue.
Probably why it was so easy to disappear people.
Pursing her lips, Stella let the cynical thought go with another sigh, curling her fingers a bit in Ash’s thick ruff of fur. He was such a height that it was perfectly comfortable to walk that way, and the warmth of another living being was a comfort, even if she did not recognize it as such. She glanced up, perhaps in hopes of seeing the stars through the Dome, but the night sky was overcast, and she shook her head and dropped her chin so she was once more looking straight ahead. It was then that the first drop of rain hit her head, and Stella frowned.
“Of course.” And she’d left her umbrella at her apartment that morning, and still had two miles to go. Well, she supposed she’d just be getting soaked then—no point in dwelling on it.
“It is glad simply to exist in this world.”
Though most people in the City would never see a tree or a flower, that was not the case for those privileged enough to live and work nearby the Central Authority. The complex itself was an even mixture of civil government, military police, and science, though those divisions remained by and large separate from one another, the building divided sharply into thirds. At the very center of it, though, lay the City’s one and only garden—and at present, one of the few beings who tended it.
Late evening was perhaps a strange time to be out gardening, but Project Zero’s schedule did not exactly align with those typical of more mundane government employees, and her free time—though it would have been an exaggeration to describe anything about her as free—was irregular at best. She’d been tied up, or rather, tied down, in one of the laboratory rooms all day, meaning that her usual garden maintenance had needed to wait until the late hours. She could tell that it was going to rain in short order, as she had access to the Climate Control data several weeks in advance, but rain did not pull weeds or trim hedges, and so that was what Darcia, as she was sometimes called, chose to do now.
Even as the faintest of synthetic rumbles drifted over the air, mimicking the natural thunder that she had studied as part of her acclimatization program, and even as the rain began, light at first, but soon quite the steady shower, she continued her work, more or less impervious to the weather. Her drab gray uniform, more akin to scrubs than anything, quickly soaked through, but it was not as though she was at risk of catching a cold, and so she continued on despite the minor encumbrance. Distantly, she wondered if anyone had to work an assignment out in the City in such conditions, and supposed that even if so, it would make as little difference to them as it did to her. This of course, led her to wonder when she might next be able to see the outside world, but thinking such things for too long did have the tendency to make her a little melancholy, so she chose to concentrate on what she was doing, instead.
Late evening was perhaps a strange time to be out gardening, but Project Zero’s schedule did not exactly align with those typical of more mundane government employees, and her free time—though it would have been an exaggeration to describe anything about her as free—was irregular at best. She’d been tied up, or rather, tied down, in one of the laboratory rooms all day, meaning that her usual garden maintenance had needed to wait until the late hours. She could tell that it was going to rain in short order, as she had access to the Climate Control data several weeks in advance, but rain did not pull weeds or trim hedges, and so that was what Darcia, as she was sometimes called, chose to do now.
Even as the faintest of synthetic rumbles drifted over the air, mimicking the natural thunder that she had studied as part of her acclimatization program, and even as the rain began, light at first, but soon quite the steady shower, she continued her work, more or less impervious to the weather. Her drab gray uniform, more akin to scrubs than anything, quickly soaked through, but it was not as though she was at risk of catching a cold, and so she continued on despite the minor encumbrance. Distantly, she wondered if anyone had to work an assignment out in the City in such conditions, and supposed that even if so, it would make as little difference to them as it did to her. This of course, led her to wonder when she might next be able to see the outside world, but thinking such things for too long did have the tendency to make her a little melancholy, so she chose to concentrate on what she was doing, instead.