Mechiverse

Kit Gray had been busy with customer vehicles since opening up shop. For nearly two hours, now, she lay underneath a hover capsule with a broken rear axle, humming to some old tune on the radio while she worked, the only other sound that of her tinkering, until, at long last, she put both feet flat on the ground to either side of the skateboard she'd been using as as makeshift workbench and pushed out from underneath the vehicle.

"I really need to fix this place up," she muttered, looking around at her workspace. She set her wrench to one side and stood up to brush off her dusty coveralls. "Well, that takes care of that."

A bit disoriented from doing the horizontal mambo with her latest job, the mechanic glanced around the garage, searching until her eyes came to rest on the thin stack of shipping and delivery records beside the radio on top of the table across from her. She pushed aside a few odd wrappers and picked up what was left of the morning's mug of coffee to reveal a brown ring marring the corner of the top record. Taking a swallow of the cold, creamy liquid, she licked her fingertip and leafed through the first three pages, talking aloud to herself. "So, what's on the agenda this afternoon? Let's see... Colch, Collins, ah... Caracona." She grasped the page between thumb and forefinger and edged it out, mouth parting into a grin as she recognized the alternate name she handwrote at the top right corner. "Says here, we have a special delivery for you. Shipping is C-O-D, and it looks like you're a long-term customer, so no delivery charge. Due in one hour, hmm? I know just who to call."

Of course, there was no one else to call, but she was nonetheless eager. Eyeing up the stack of boxes in the far corner, she twisted the dial on the radio to kill the volume, and pressed for the big red button on the wall above it, activating the intercom she'd jury-rigged and connected to the apartment. Kit had to admit, she especially loved pressing that button.

"Hey, Speedy? You remember that order that came in yesterday?" She waited only a beat before continuing without giving him a chance to reply. Ricky knew her routine well enough already, anyway. She'd send him off to drop of packages while she finished filling in invoicing she'd drafted up on her little typewriter. They'd sometimes meet and grab a bite for lunch on the way to Ticktock, the weathered old shop where she worked evenings, and if he still had things to do at the garage, he would head back to finish if they didn't already close up shop before leaving their complex. "Get your butt up here," she said in that easy, informal tone she reserved just for him. "I have another job for you."

After gulping down the rest of her hours-old beverage, Kit settled down with a hot, somewhat fresh cup from the copper percolator on her desk, and swiped a bunch of past due utility bills into a wastecan to make room for the garage's repair invoices. Her mind rampant with mass calculations and esitimates of the week-end's net profit, she ran a hand through the disheveled twin plaits in her dark brown hair, briefly considering the addition of 'Hire a Secretary' to her mental list of 'Things to do When I Get Rich.'

Upon receiving the delivery order, Ricky wasted no time in getting up off the bed he was lazing around on. He was down by the time Kit got herself another cup of coffee, eager to finally do something today, which had been rather uneventful so far. The job that his pal had been working on didn't require his assistance, so he just stayed in the apartment listening to the radio, looking at the streets through the window.

"So who's the lucky guy you're sending me off to, Kitty?" the former thief asked playfully. Anyone else who addressed her by that name would've been sporting a black eye by now. Ricky enjoyed having such a privilege.

Without looking up or breaking pen stroke, she said, "Actually, this time, he is a she. You know the girl who works out not too far from the junkyard? Tilletha Caracona, but everyone calls her Tylt, one of our regulars. She ordered some miscellaneous parts from the catalogue last week I had to pay out of pocket for, plus offered to buy out our extra scrap metal from those welding jobs last month. Figured we could use the extra cash to meet our quota."

"If only we had more customers like her, am I right?" Ricky added. He practically knew the route to Tylt's place by heart now.

"Yeah," Kit agreed with a chuckle. She stopped writing and dotted the end of her description for today's job. Finally sitting upright, she gave a rather cat-like stretch and leaned over the back of her chair. Her eyes found the flying machine suspended from their ceiling as she handed Ricky two neatly folded invoices, one for Caracona, and the other for the lucky bastard who had dropped off his hover capsule yesterday. "With any luck, I'll have enough leftover to buy the last couple of parts to get that bird in the air next week... Oh, and speaking of guys, when you stop by to give Mr.-" she took the second invoice briefly to catch a glimpse of the heading at the top of the page before handing it over. "Gerranraip-" she tried the name on her tongue a little akwardly. Gare-an-rape. Guessing at the pronunciation of oddball surnames had never been her strong suit. "-his invoice, you might infer the consequences of his offering to pay to see me take off my overalls and cover myself in grease when he comes to pick up his vehicle tomorrow. I'm a mechanic, not a stripper," she said with a glower. "I don't get paid to dance around and look pretty."

"Don't worry, I'll make him see sense if he tries to make a big issue about it," the mechanic's apprentice said with a certain implying tone in his voice before quickly switching back to normal. "Still, if you were paid to look pretty, we'd have to charge extra for people who stop by!"

Kit turned round in her chair to throw a half-hearted punch at his stomach. "You're lucky I like you."

"And that makes me luckier than any other bloke I know," Ricky retorted, although there was indeed a bit of solemn truth in those words. "Anyway, I'll get going now, shall I?" Without waiting for much in the way of an answer, he started to collect the packages into a small backpack. Both of 'em knew what the answer was gonna be, anyhow.

"What would I do without you?" she said rather quietly with a half-smile, nursing her coffee while he packed. She wasn't much for expressing herself too seriously, but she always made sure to show her appreciation for him in small ways here and there. Since showing up, he'd taken a load of weight off her shoulders, and given enough time, she was sure the two of them could really turn the shop around. "You still want to meet up for a late lunch before I go back to work tonight?" she asked, between sips. "I'm buying."

"How could I resist such an offer?" he replied, grinning. With little other conversation exchanged, Ricky left the garage and bolted down the street towards Tylt's place, dodging and jumping over any obstacles that were in his way with ease.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Tilletha Caracona, or Tylt as she was better known as, wiped her brow with hammer in hand. "Just a few more adjustments, I can't leave you like this while I'm away. Hey Fiasco? Music, please!"

The little bot skated out, dimly-lit golden discs staring up at her. The wide mouth flapped open and let out a whistle and a ring. Twirling on spot, the tiny machina wheeled over to the phonograph and produced an arm to wind it up. The sound of a saxophone melted into the room, bringing in a chaotic flurry of happy, frantic notes. As she pounded away on her client's face, she took a swig of beer. "Ah! That's good, here, down the hatch!" The machine obeyed and lifted open its flap-jaw, gingerly accepting the rest of the alcohol. "Burn that up, it's good for you." She gave the robot a once-over, "I think that'll do, Reg. Give yourself a dunk in that barrel over there." The robot lumbered over to the wooden barrel, paused just a moment, then submerged itself in the tub to harden the heated metal on its face. Rising up with the steam, the robot turned to its handler, snapped a swift salute and chimed.

Tylt put the hammer down and placed her hands on her hips, "Lookin' good, Reg. I guess that's all I need to do, then." She swept her gaze around the workshop, her home, giving it one good, final look. Tylt wasn't at all sure if she'd make it home again...but now was not the time for such concerns. She let out a sigh and knelt down to her knee-high robot, Fiasco. "Take care of everyone, OK?" The little robot let out a sad whistle but rang its bell twice in response. Even the music had hit a melancholy score at this point, a blues-style piano and double bass that pulled at her heartstrings. She patted Fiasco on the head and started out the door, "I'll be back as soon as things get back to normal." She reached up for her satchel of tools and put them on. Next, she grabbed a bag of provisions. It was time to go. She turned back to her mechanical friends, all of which had turned their full attention to her, staring back at her with wide light-bulb eyes. "Be good."

That was it, she had just begun to walk away from her home, possibly forever.

Tylt had only taken a few steps, when she heard the sound of swift feet kicking up dust. She turned sharply to meet the sound and saw a lean, red-haired man in a black coat running towards her at high-speed.

Valerie picked up her gun, aimed, and fired. She shot once, twice, three times. Every target smashed to pieces. She put her gun down and grabbed a knife throwing it at an old chair. It hit dead-on and stuck into the wood. She walked over to it and picked up all of her weapons smiling with pride. She made a quick satisfied "Hmph" as she began walking towards the exit of the junkyard. She never went there for anything other than practice. She didn't need money to get what she needed, she just stole. It was quite easy for her since everyone just thought she was a sweet innocent little girl. People could be so naive.

She jumped down from a pile of old tires and onto the cold dirt ground. As she was walking to the exit she saw a little robot hiding under some old clocks. She picked it up and put it into her bag as she left.

Val continued her long walk going through alley-way after alley-way. She found what she was looking for, she walked into an alley no one knew about, Val had closed it off from all sides except for a little whole in the bottom right corner, she was small enough to fit into it but no one else would try, they'd probably all be to scared thinking rats lived inside. She took the little robot out of her bag and set down her weapons at the door. She laid the robot on the floor next to her bed which consisted of a stolen pillow and blanket, and a mattress. She used to have two mattresses, one for her and one for her mother, but before she realized stealing was an easier option she sold her own mattress for money. She kept her mothers so she would have something of hers. The cops took everything else that belonged to her.

Valerie collapsed in her bed as she pulled the covers over her cold dirty body. She really needed to shower. She decided she'd go down to the river tomorrow to wash up and then practice more in the junkyard. She smiled as she made plans for tomorrow thinking about how she was going to somehow fix that robot, she was going to make it talk because she couldn't. Valerie drifted off to sleep and dreamed about killing her mothers murderer, it was such a happy dream.

Ricky managed to stop just short of crashing straight into his client. Would've been a little bad for business if he did stuff like that, see? Anyhow, no harm done this time.

"Heya Tylt, I've got those parts you wanted right here. So, how's the family...?" His voice started to trail off when he noticed that the inventor also had a backpack. From their past conversations ever since the blackouts started happening, it didn't take too long to figure out what she was up to.

"Finally goin' out there, I see," Ricky said after a while. As much as it pained him to see her go, he knew that there was no way he could change the girl's mind. But wait... maybe she didn't have to go out there on her lonesome. Sure, he'd have to talk with Kit about it, but at the same time he couldn't bear it if Tylt was all alone in the middle of nowhere. She was one of their best customers, too!

"Tylt, I know I can't stop you or anything, but... well, me and Kit almost have our airship done. If you can help us finish it off, then we'll help you. Besides, exactly how far are you gonna get on foot?" Ricky's usual smile started to return after making that little quip. "Anyway, if you wanna take up our offer, just head on over to our garage. You know where it is, right? I'll see you later; gotta finish my deliveries first. Speaking of which..." Ricky fished out a parcel from his backpack that contained some complex components used in the internal systems of more advanced robots. After Tylt paid for the parts, he gave the inventor a quick farewell hug and left, already gathering speed towards his next destination.

Tylt raised an eyebrow at the delivery boy who was a blur only a moment ago. Of course she recognized the fellow, it was none other than Ricky Markev; an errand worker and helper in Kit Gray's shop. Perhaps the only helper in Kit Gray's shop, Tylt couldn't recall ever seeing anyone else there. Ricky flashed a grin and greeted her but his voice trailed off when he noticed her bag of supplies and provisions.

"Finally goin' out there, I see,"

Tylt nodded, a single, emphatic motion, "That's right, Ricky. I would've left earlier if I could, I just had to make sure my 'bots were gonna' be OK." Ricky took in her mission statement with a steady, understanding nod. He then informed her of an airship that he and Kit had been working on. Tylt's heart fluttered. An airship? What a grand opportunity! In exchange for helping out, Kit and Ricky would glady provide transportation.

"Anyway, if you wanna take up our offer, just head on over to our garage. You know where it is, right?"

Tylt smiled and made another affirmation. She paid for the parts, hugged the errand boy goodbye and waved as he started off. "See you there!" she called out, moving her hand up to guard her eyes from the sun as she watched the young man bolt away into the distance. "Golly," she muttered to herself, smiling, "who needs a hovercapsule when you can run like that?" She looked down to the parcel in her other hand, held it up to her ear and gave it a gentle shake. Her expression turned to joy as she heard the satisfying jingle of fine parts.

An airship, what an opportunity, indeed! Looking decidedly content, Tylt made her way for Kit Gray's shop. She practically knew the route by heart now. She had only just set foot out the door and had already found such useful allies.

Kit pored over the numerous calculations and scribbles on the garage paperwork, pausing only to take a sip of coffee or double-check her work. Reaching the final product, however, she realized the projected numbers and what was on the page did not quite match. She sighed in exasperation, ready to go back through and start from the beginning, when she spotted an invoice she had overlooked poking its little head up from underneath the corner of an old receipt. "Well, well, how did you get here?"

Not one to complain over finding lost gold, she added in the missing paperwork and got her hopes up a little too soon, for no sooner did she carry a few extra numbers over from her previous result, than she discovered the addition merely deducted another sum of 100 off the business tax payments, thus increasing the amount owed to those government sods. After all was accounted for, the remainder was the garage's net profit, and the numbers looked small, leaving an otherwise short pay week for Ricky, mainly.

At this rate, they'd have to cut back hours at the garage just to save money. She wasn't about to short her only employee, and, fortunately Ricky wasn't normally one to ask questions about money since she paid him under the table, so Kit took a couple hundred out of her cut and stuffed it into the envelope she had set aside for his pay week. At least, then, he'd have just about as much money as she pocketed. He probably won't even notice the difference, if I don't say anything. The parts for the bird, however inexpensive and simple, were just going to have to wait until next week.

Closing up shop downstairs by turning off the "Open" sign outside the garage, she left the door open and headed up to the apartment to change into something clean for her next job.