The Grand Collective

Noah was glad that she could sew. She wasn't the best in the shop, but she certainly did what she had to do, and stuck to the basics. The room that she occupied was long, with a low ceiling. There were work benches aligned in rows, so that Noah saw the back of the girl in front of her. The building that the room was in was a large textiles factory, owned by a Creator of sorts. There were Earners working here as well, and Noah wondered if anyone suspected her to be an Imitation.

It was raining outside, pouring even. There weren't any windows in the room, but all of the women could here the pounding of the downpour on the metal roof, which made the rain sound louder than it was. Noah focused on the cloth in front of her, it was crimson and she wondered what the finished product would look like. She was in charge of sewing sleeves, which was easier than some of the other women's jobs.

Noah picked up the next piece of red fabric when she hears the bell ring, it was the end of the day, finally. She wrote down how many sleeves she had made that day on the card at the edge of her workbench, forty-seven, and walked out. In the entryway to the factory she turned left and in to the locker room. Noah took her bag from her locker and turned to the front desk to get her pay for the week. After grabbing the envelope and putting it in her bag, Noah prepared herself for the long walk home in the rain. She put her coat on and pulled the hood up, stepping outside. the rain came down in barrels and Noah sighed.

With a running start she bolted into the rain, and since she was in Titan's County, she had a long walk home to the Province of Imitations. She wished she had enough money to take the pin train, but her small pay check was for food and basic necessities only. She wondered if anyone else had to walk to the Province, but decided not to turn and look so that she could get home as fast as she could, besides, there was an Alliance meeting tomorrow and she wanted to be awake and ready in the morning.

WRIGHT's rhythmic footfalls rang through the mansion's lonely corridors.  It was the time of afternoon that he found most appealing; most of the servants had paused in their duties for dinner, leaving the building open for him to wander in peace.  When he was first constructed, people had moved out of his way in the halls and addressed him with care.  Six years on, he was treated more like part of the furnishing than an important asset to the master of the house, and ignored by most.  Which was a shame, because now WRIGHT might have been willing to talk to them.

Further down the hall, a screen of sunlight from the open balcony doors reflected off a gleaming white wall and into his face.  Ceramic eyelids slid shut, giving his ocular sensors time to adjust.  On these bright days, Seraph Chase shone painfully at every window.  Had WRIGHT been built seventy years ago, he would have designed the place more intelligently.  He opened his eyes again and was pleased to find the world rendered in a darker shade, one that wouldn't impact his vision quite so torturously.  On a whim (WRIGHT was still getting used to those), he ventured out onto the balcony and looked down upon Kingwolf.

From the forty-sixth floor, the view was quite spectacular.  Seraph Chase was prime real estate befitting of the Collective Muster's kingpin.  It stood at the end of a long valley, with a wide cobbled road leading up to it.  The road was mostly for the servants; goods were usually transported to and from the building through the underground railroad.  Workers, mostly Imperfect, had toiled long and hard to build the master's home, and their efforts clearly showed.  Encompassing an entire mountain, the white marble mansion stood as a testament to the wealth and audacity of the Luminaries.  WRIGHT didn't think of it in those terms, of course.  It was one thing to analyse his master's home, and quite another to admonish him for it.

A single peal of the grand bell signalled the end of the servants' mealtime.  Soon their shifts would rotate, many of them leaving via the main road on the long trek back to Titan's County or the Province of Imitations.  Many more would be arriving for the night shift, or simply staying in the residential halls.  

WRIGHT had his own place.

Turning on his heel, he marched back inside and through an archway that led down a narrower, even more brightly lit corridor.  At its end was a box-shaped compartment, big enough to perhaps fit a troll.  He stepped inside, punched a number into the nearby console, turned around and pulled a lever.  A grate slid over the compartment's entrance - a little slowly, WRIGHT noticed.  Perhaps nought-point-three seconds slower than necessary.  A better one could be designed.  Eventually, WRIGHT imagined, he probably would.  Then the design would be implemented all across the world, earning the Collective Muster ever more money, and never once crediting him.  He bore them no ill will for it.

With a hiss, the elevator plummeted down into the darkness.

Serafine was ready to work in her own studio like the rest of her family. Too bad her father and older sister weren't as ready to see her work as she was. After her mother died in an accident while coming home from work in the city, Marx has been over protective of his youngest daughter. It doesn't help that she is an exact replica of her deceased mother. Sera had drawings and designs of many different tools and buildings. She hasn't found her niche yet but she knows that she wants to make something that will make an impact on the world.

That is the greatest and only reason at the moment that she had joined the Alliance. Sera's longing for independence and urge to make a difference. Maybe the Alliance will do that, maybe it won't but she was taking a chance. A big one. As Sera paces back and forth in her room she concocts a plan to convince her father that she can work. "Let's hope this works," she whispers to herself and the exits her bedroom. She climbs down to the living room through an assortment of stairs and ladders where her father was sitting and reading. She captures her fathers attention and gives her presentation. It was well thought up and had very logical point but her father wouldn't hear any of it. The talk ended with Sera storming from the room with hot tears in her eyes.

She heads out into the dark night and climbs up to the roof of her house and sits down. The roof reaches just above the treetops so that the house can have sunlight throughout the day. She lays back looking at the stars and wonders what her life would be like if her mother was still alive. How will she be able to make a difference in the world? Maybe she will find out at the Alliance meeting that is being held tomorrow. She now has to figure out a way to sneak away from her family to reach the meeting.

Kyle gritted his teeth and pushed open the door to his tuny flat. His muscles groaned in protest as he limped to his tiny bed and sat down, resting his face in his calloused hands. It had been a long day. Sure, every day was long, but that day had just seemed... longer. At least than most. He leaned his back against the dingy wall of his apartment, moving his hands to his shoes, gingerly removing them. Kyle dropped the boots on the floor, ignoring the hollow clunk and rolling sound as, presumably, another button fell from their leather.
He needed new shoes. His head thumped against the wall as he viewed the subtle humor in that. He needed new everything. New shoes, new clothes, a new job, he reflected sourly as he thought of just how temporary his employment situation was, a new life. And a cure.
He needed a cure most of all, but he didn't see that happening. He didn't see much of anything happening, really. He barely even saw the 'new shoes' thing coming to be. Not on an inconsistent salary. He reached from his bed to the dusty cabinet across from him and swung it open. The hinges creaked, and he pulled out an unmarked bottle. Uncorking it, he eyed the contents as it swirled.
Not tonight. There was an Alliance meeting the next morning. It would be in his best interest not oversleep.
He re-corked the bottle, careful not to waste any of the precious liquid which drained his salary so efficiently, and leaned back onto his bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, as he reached above his forehead, pulling the cord that switched off the single light in his apartment.

[OOC: I'm back from vacation :) ]

Noah awoke early the next morning to her brother standing over her with a frown on his face. She yawned, stretched and rubbed her eyes then turned to him.

"Morning Jon," she said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm hungry," the young boy said, frowning at her and putting his hand on his grumbling stomach. Noah smiled and swung her feet over the edge of her bead to stand up.

"I'll make oatmeal," she said. "And you can have extra brown sugar since it's Saturday." He smiled and ran out of the room, presumably to torture Rumor with a toy of something. Noah walked out of their joint room and into the living space which had a small kitchen on one side. She reached up and opened the cupboard to make the oatmeal. After setting the finished breakfast out on the table and calling Jonathan down, she poured some tuna in Rumor's bowl and sat down at the table to eat her meal.

When they had finished eating, Jonathan did the dished and Noah went into their room to get dressed. She had bathed yesterday evening, after her long walk home in the rain, so she put on a sweater and some jeans and tied her hair back in an elastic. Noah put a pencil and a pad of paper in a backpack. She also packed a water bottle and a sandwich, just in case she had to stay for lunch. Noah placed her I.D. in her pocket and headed towards the door, grabbing an umbrella just in case.

"I'm heading out!" she called to Jonathan. "Stay safe and bring your keys and I.D. if you go out."

"Seeya Noah," he smiled.

Noah was lucky that their apartment was near the Edge and when she saw that no one was looking, she dashed into the forest, so as not to be conspicuous. She made her way over roots and rocks to the entrance of the Alliance's hideout, wondering if Sera would make it today. Noah wanted to hear about her newest projects, she also wanted to see if Kyle had brought any of his drawings along, and he usually came to meetings.

She tried to remember today's topic. It had something to do with job offers, so she didn't necessarily need to come since she had a well paying job, but it wasn't like her to turn away if people tried to help her.

Sera wakes up the next morning to the sun shining in through her windows. When she heads downstairs, she is surprised to find that her family had already left for work. Whew, she thought, at least I don't have to make an excuse or sneak past anyone. Sera is so nervous that she only gets an apple to eat. She tosses the apple away once she is finished with it and then heads back up to her room to dress. The one thing about her designer sister not being there was that she couldn't pick out her clothes for her. Sera finds a simple light blue dress that she liked and quickly put that on. Then changed her mind and put on a pair of black shorts and a red tie-front blouse with sandals. Her hair is then put back with small headband so that her bangs won't get in her face. Once satisfied, she grabs her belongings and heads towards the meeting.

She climbs down the assortment of stairs and ladders to get to the ground and then looks around hoping to not be seen. Once the coast is clear, Sera stealthily walks with her head down until she is out of the "city" limits. Finally away from civilization, Sear relaxes and lets her mind wander on the job she may get at the meeting today. She wonders if Noah will have any stories to tell about her life or any other news. She is most excited to talk to Kyle about art and showing him her newest drawings. She finally reaches the Alliance hideout and enters when she knows that no one was following her.

Kyle slammed his head on the ceiling. It was a rude awakening.
It happened, sometimes, yes, when he'd been sleeping heavily and forgot about his apartment's complete lack of space.

Kyle didn't bother to stand up, preferring sitting to stooping, and felt around under his bed for a clean change of clothes. Anything, anything... he felt his fingers tighten around cloth, and he pulled out jeans and a plain shirt that were considerably clean (at least by his standards) which he pulled on over his head struggling a bit to move around in his tiny flat.

He glanced at the battered silver watch on his wrist and decided to neglect breakfast. With any luck there'd e some kind of available food at the meeting, and it wasn't as if he had an excess of it at his disposal to fill a stomach that wasn't all that hungry.
Kyle stood, stooping, and paused to stare at the pad of paper on his small counter-top. He flipped through the drawings within the booklet, trying to decide if it was worth bringing to the meeting. He remembered how Sera and Noah were going to the meeting (or so they'd said,) and would most likely want to see his drawings. He sighed, and decided that, yes, it was worth it, if only to avoid their disappointment.

Grabbing his leather bag from the floor, he shoved the book in, and felt around in one of its numerous pockets for his identification, both the genuine ID as well as the fake one, issued to him by the resistance, that classified him as an Earner, someone who would be able to travel to the Edge without detection or so much as a second glance. He was probably going to be late. Just like he had been to the last six meetings. He reached into a cabinet, feeling around, and pulled out a few coins. Enough for a one way trip on the pin train, just as far as the edge of the city. Then he would be broke. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He had been broke before. He could manage.

The pin train was fast. He reached the city limits in no time, keeping his head down and slipped way from the stop and into the woods, making it into headquarters exactly two minutes late, which was the earliest he'd been in a long while.

Noah edged through the Edge and made sure that no one suspicious had followed her, after seeing that she was alone, she dashed off. She had always had a thing about being exactly on time, if not early. To put it easily, Noah hated being late, it made her nervous, so she was happy when she checked her watch, seeing that it was exactly ten o'clock.

When Noah entered the headquarters, she was surprised at the amount of people who had shown up, the job market for people of lower classes must have been worse than she thought. She stood on her toes to look for Sera and Kyle, only seeing Sera at first. She headed over to say hello. On her way to Sera she was stopped by Derrick Ackerson, one of the more prominent members of the group.

"Hey Noah," he said, grabbing her arm lightly. "Thanks for coming, I know that you have a job, but we really do need people to support those who don't." He smiled. "I'm just going to let everyone know about the papers that we have collected for openings, I hope we have enough."

"No problem," Noah replied. "Anything to help out the cause. And I'm sure you will, I'll try to look out for more for the next meeting." She moved away from him and over to Sera, smiling widely as she approached the artistic girl. "Hey Sera," she started, "Have you been working on anything new lately? Oh, and is Kyle here?"

As he approached the main boardroom, WRIGHT mentally counted down the seconds to ten o'clock. He reached the door and quietly opened it just as the hour changed, and crossed over to his usual seat. Each of WRIGHT's footsteps echoed through the cavernous room, built in a dome shape with the rectangular oak table in the centre. The seat at the end, a giant and ornately carved throne, was reserved strictly for the master whenever he chose to appear. As expected, the boardroom was empty save for Taskmaster Hecate, with a briefcase full of documents lying open on the table before him. He didn't bother to look up as WRIGHT sat down.

"Good morning, sir," WRIGHT said. A disinterested nod came from the pale man, who reached into the briefcase to pull out a sheaf of papers. He pushed them across the table, and WRIGHT recognised the layout as his own work. 

"Do you remember the designs you made for our optimised woodcutter's axe?" Hecate asked the android in his typical soft-spoken drone.

"Yes, sir." That had been months ago; electricity and the tools that made use of them were complicated and expensive, so the Collective Muster had decided to equip their workers with a time-tested model until they could fund something better. WRIGHT tilted his head at the papers on the desk. "Was there a problem with them?"

"No, not at all," came the reply, a hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of Hecate's mouth. "They were adequate for our purposes, but now priorities have changed. How effective do you reckon your old design is for cutting bone?" He leaned back in his chair, produced a plain black flask from his pocket and took a swig.

"Not optimally, I would imagine." WRIGHT studied the Taskmaster as he drank for a moment. It was rude to ask a person what their species was, but WRIGHT had his suspicions about the exact nature of Hecate's drinking habit. "I do not believe you mentioned this when you asked for the schematics," he said.

Hecate put the flask away with an irritated grunt. "Recently, there's been a few terrorist attacks against our logging crews in the Edge. We don't want to send them under armed escort just yet, so they need to be able to defend themselves." He gestured to the design documents. "Modify them so that they can be used in combat, without entirely sacrificing their effectiveness as tools. Unless, of course, you think they could be used to kill as they are."

"I am not sure, sir," WRIGHT mused. "If you would prefer, I could arrange for some tests to this effect." 

He couldn't quite understand the look that Hecate gave him. "I would prefer to have a revised schematic which the Luminaries can rely on," he replied stiffly, "sitting on this table in 24 hours' time. Whether or not any "tests" are necessary is up to your initiative. Understand?"

"Absolutely, sir." WRIGHT picked the old designs up off the table, turned and headed for the door once again. Inside, he was grateful that he hadn't been told to conduct any harmful experiments, and decided to avoid such a thing if at all possible. Hecate knew that this was what he wanted, didn't he?

Papers clutched in his hand, WRIGHT prepared to go to work.