Children of The Pipes Chapter 5: On Her Own

The girl that The Boy had unearthed was lost, alone, terrified, and totally helpless. She was wandering aimlessly through the nonsensically laid out streets of Scott. She had a terrible headache that only amplified the weirdness of her strange, fever-dream-like surroundings. The multitude of colored lights cast huge, strange shadows onto the uneven metal surfaces. The chilly air tasted metallic and was filled with particles, making breathing difficult and coughing fits frequent for those not used to it. Strange, furtive figures wandered through stray beams of light that made visible the dust swirling through the air.

Argent quickly noticed that the latex she had been issued and her obvious fright solicited attention from passerby. She was overwhelmed, and wanted only a place to hide away from the world while she formulated a plan.

Argent wandered the city until she found an abandoned building. It was short, windowless, ugly, and small, but it was somewhere to hide. The small 1-story house had been entirely cleared out, except for a broken table and a torn denim jacket that she found in the back room. She gratefully put this on, as she had grown quite cold.

Argent, now a vagrant, felt quite safe here in this backmost room. She curled up in a corner, clutching her still pounding head. It was dark, but some light filtered through the walls of loosely lashed pipe. She was still quite near the center of the city, and could hear a quiet murmur of conversation and movement from outside. She coughed, her lungs attempting to purge themselves of the rusty air. She rubbed her arms for heat as she wondered what her near future would contain.

Some vague time ago Argent had wanted to pursue mechanical engineering, but had only received a very basic education in it. She thought that perhaps even this lackluster knowledge would elevate her above the dirty masses that she found herself immersed in. Even then though, she wouldn’t know who to contact or where to go to secure a job. She also had no savings to rely on as she searched for a job. She needed money immediately or she would starve, just like the beggars that populated the alleyways and streets.

Argent couldn’t think of anything. In this dilapidated shack of a house, the destitute juvenile mulled over her options, but found none of them desirable. In the end, she came to the conclusion that she simply didn’t know enough about this place to survive. What skills and services were valuable? How much did things cost? Simple information like this that she had learned as a small child was now rendered irrelevant, and she needed to relearn it.

The broken, tired adolescent mustered what little confidence she had and ventured outside again, this time searching for a method of survival. Her last meal was still only a little more than an hour ago, but she feared that she would still have nothing when hunger set its claws to her. She wondered if she would starve in this place without understanding what it was or how she had come to be here. It would be a cruel fate, like a fish being cast from the sea only to suffocate on the shore.

---

After nearly 6 hours of wandering the city, only two options had become obvious to the naive young lady, and both would be unacceptable to her if her survival was not in question. The first was to become a filth-coated beggar and attempt to survive off the charity of strangers. This was the option that she preferred over the other; at least until she began finding the corpses of panhandlers.

It seemed that the citizens of Scott had little to spare for beggars, leaving them to die in alleys and on the sides of streets. If the natives could not make a proper living of begging with all of their hard-gained street smarts, then a newcomer with no knowledge of the city had no chance. Where could she buy cheap clothes, food, blankets? Were there any sympathetic souls that could give her bed for a night? She could learn these things over time, but it would be difficult to survive in the meantime.

Argent had discovered her second option while wandering through a busy intersection near the market. Two nearly naked women wearing rags danced seductively on a corner. They were in their 40s, fairly ugly, filthy, and entirely shameless. A man standing near the duo noticed the pretty girl examining his merchandise and wormed his way through the crowd to reach her.

Argent didn't notice him until he was on her. He grabbed her wrist and leaned in close, blasting her with his rancid breath. Reflexively, the girl pulled away from him.

“Hey, relax,” he said as she fought his grip, about to scream. “I saw you looking at my women. You need a job?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. She calmed a bit, realizing that they were in the middle of a crowd. He couldn’t possibly try anything here could he?

“Nah I’ve seen you wandering around. I been out here long enough to know when somebody doesn’t have a place to sleep,” he said, leaning closer.

“I-I’m out running errands,” Argent managed to stammer out. She winced, it was a lame lie.

“Sure babe. If you change your mind and wanna join up with us, I’ll be here,” he said, letting go of her wrist. She moved away from him through the crowd as soon as she could. She happened to look backwards through the crowd to see him grinning at her as she fled. Though she promised herself that she would never sink so low, she made a note of where he was - just in case.

Later, Argent came across a group of particularly shabby-looking individuals crowded around a small building. They looked to be fellow homeless. She guessed that there was someone giving away something or selling it cheaply. She fought her way to the front of the crowd to find a portly woman handing out a watery stew and repeatedly marking a piece of paper.

When Argent stepped forward, the portly woman glanced upwards at her.

“Where’s your bowl?” she asked, “Or is this your first time?”

“First time,” she responded. It had been a while since she had eaten with The Boy, and she was again hungry.

“Here’s the deal: if you bring your own bowl, I’ll give you some food. You only come once in a week. I write your name down on the list and check it off when you come. If you come back and try to get more food than you should then you don’t get any next week. Very simple, got it?” Argent nodded. The woman grabbed her list and pen.

“What’s your name?” she asked, quickly formatting the paper to accommodate another name.

“It’s... it’s Argent,” she said.

“Last name?”

“Uh... I-It’s...” Argent stammered, trying to recall.

“It’s...” she repeated, her eyes widening with realization. She was mortified; she couldn’t remember her own last name. She fell silent for another few moments, wringing her hands. She didn’t know what to say.

“It’s ok honey, I don’t need it,” the portly woman said, understanding in her eyes. Severe mental illness was more than common in the underground, especially in the sizable homeless population. A multitude of stressors and the continual unavailability of key vitamins made it difficult to stay sane.

“Here,” the woman said, handing over her stew in a short pipe with a sealed bottom. “That bowl’s free, just hang onto it.” Argent accepted the charity, mumbled a thank-you, and wandered off. She ate as she walked, pushing her tragic forgetfulness out of mind. She was too overwhelmed with her many other troubles to continue considering it.

The stew was mostly water, but it had chunks of meat in it and a single spoonful of tasteless orange mush that she thought might be carrot. It was difficult to tell from the diluted flavor, but she thought the meat might be lab-grown. She hadn’t seen any animals around, so it probably was.

Argent didn’t feel safe stopping and sitting anywhere, so she saved her soup until she could find a place to eat it. She clutched the warm metal tightly. It was somewhat cold in the underground. Her latex suit was not holding in much heat, and the tattered denim jacket only assisted a little. After searching for a while, she found a suitable hovel situated down an alley and behind a store attempting to sell dream-catcher-like trinkets made out of salvaged metals.

The shack had a few pane-less windows and several scattered and battered sitting implements. Everything was in such disarray that Argent couldn’t imagine that anyone had inhabited the place in a long while. By now she was tired, and hoped that sleeping on her dilemma would provide new insight. She curled up in a corner of the messy room and covered herself with her jacket.

Because there was no sun to judge time by, Argent didn’t know how much time had passed since she had woken up, nor did she know what time it was. This made falling asleep strange. Instead of feeling that the world would continue on as she slept, the lack of movement in the sky made it seem that the city would simply pause, and then resume when she awoke.

She closed her eyes and allowed her sharp hopelessness to fade into a dull resignation. There was so little she could do about her situation, that there was a security in her powerlessness. She fell asleep comforted by the idea that she had nothing left to lose.

---

Waking up to a swift and powerful kick to the stomach is a very unpleasant experience. Argent rolled over and clutched her abdomen, her mind struggling with confusion, surprise, and pain. A rough, dirty hand grabbed her forearm and yanked her up so that she hung awkwardly at waist-height.

“Why’re you here!” a deep voice demanded.

“I’m sorry!” Argent managed to choke out. Her attacker thrust his knee out, catching her again in the stomach.

“Don’t ever come back here!” he yelled as he began to drag her towards the door, her back thumping against lumps in the uneven pipe floor. Dazed as she was, Argent was vaguely aware of several other large men in the room. Why had she been so certain that the place was abandoned?

The man threw her out the door and slammed it shut behind her. She groaned as she lifted herself to a knee, and from there to a teetering and hunched standing position. She was in pain, but it seemed likely that loitering would earn her another beating.

Argent staggered out of the alleyway and down the street, finally collapsing against a pile of rubble. Her abdomen hurt badly, but she didn't think she had broke or damaged anything. She leaned back against the rubble and took several long, deep breaths. She still smelled like cryo-fluid: salty and antiseptic. Being put into a cryo-pod was the last thing she remembered before she had woken up to a stranger insisting that they get a move-on. She didn't know what had happened between those two events. She couldn’t even remember why she had been put in the cryo-pod

Argent was still tired. She had only been sleeping a few hours before she had been woken. In addition, she was now also injured. She needed to find a place to rest, hopefully one that was actually unoccupied. She was also unbelievably thirsty and didn't know where she could get water.

Her eyes fluttered open. Argent had been falling asleep while thinking without realizing it. If she didn’t get up soon, she might fall asleep right there. She struggled upright, wincing as the motion engaged her core. She would have an awful bruise later.

Argent lurched down the street, coming to a small mess of stalls. Not all business was carried out in the central market, only an overwhelming majority of it. A small crowd milled from stall to stall, buying sad-looking vegetables and bundles of mushrooms. There would be nowhere abandoned to hide here, and so Argent began to turn away. She stopped when a familiar face caught her eye.

“Fucking asshole,” she whispered through her teeth. There he was, the greasy, skinny dipshit that had gotten her into this situation. He was arguing with a tall, curly-haired man stood behind a table covered in miscellaneous electronics. She boiled with anger as she made her way over to him.

He didn't see her approaching from behind as he argued, and so she gave him a hard shove, sending him forward to collide with the table and fall to the ground. She would have punched him if she wasn’t injured. He looked up to see her, and his mouth fell open when he recognized her. Argent glared at him as she searched for a word.

“Asshole!” was the one she decided on. She kicked him firmly in the chest.

“Hey it’s not like you think!” he said as he covered his face.

“Oh yea? Why’d you trick me?”

“Uh...” His caught lie earned him another kick. The Boy scrambled to his feet and pointed a finger at her. “You are notmy responsibility. I saved your life. if anything you owe me.”

“Owe you? You expect me to give you something when I don’t have a place to sleep? You’re really a piece of shit.”

“I’m busy with my own shit. I don’t have time to make your life my problem. Fuck off.” The Boy pointed off into the distance to illustrate his desire for her to leave. Argent realized that she would get nowhere with him. Really, he didn’t owe her anything, but that didn't keep him from being a massive dick.

“Fine. I’m really fucking sorry that I interrupted you buying a projector,” she said, indicating the small aluminum block in front of him on the table. Argent stormed off into the crowd. She was out of options. She would have to live out the rest of her life as a prostitute in a strange city she didn't understand. She wanted to cry, but she didn't want The Boy to see her if she did. She made her way through the crowd, looking again for a place to hide.

“Hey," said a voice behind her. Argent looked back and saw that it was The Boy.

“What the fuck do you want,” Argent said, choking a bit despite her efforts to disguise her hurt and confusion.

“How did you know what that thing was?”

“What thing?”

“The prow-jecter,” The Boy said deliberately.

“Because it’s a projector. It’s a household electronic.”

“So you would know what other things are?”

“I guess,” Argent said tentatively. Her confusion had eclipsed her anger. She had very little idea what The Boy was getting at.

“There’s a lot of money in that. People sell stuff and don't know what it’s worth. They’ll pay you to find out if they have something valuable.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She said venomously. She was too angry at him to let him know how much that news relieved her. She now knew that she could make an honest living without selling her body. Argent started to walk away but The Boy grabbed her shoulder.

“Not here though. Maybe a little, but not enough to support yourself for a long time. I can take you to Jerome, that’s where you could set up.”

“Oh really? Let me guess, you expect me to pay you once I have money?”

“Yeah. ”

“And now that I’m worth something you suddenly want to help me?”

“Yeah,” he said unapologetically.

“Why should I make a deal with you?”

“Because I can do it cheap and fast. You also know that I’m not gonna try to kidnap you or anything.”

“How do I know that?”

“I would’ve done it by now. Plus I’m guessing that you have no idea where else to find another guide to take you there anyway.” He made a convincing point, but Argent was still unsure of whether or not she wanted to associate with such a douchebag."You also probably don't have any other options. It’s this or starve to death.”

“Fine," Argent said. As little as she trusted The Boy, she would trust any of the greasy, pale men that wandered the city even less. It also went without saying that this arrangement would be preferable to prostitution.

“Shake on it,” The Boy said, extending a dirty hand. With hesitation, Argent grabbed it and participated limply in his energetic handshake. She was tired, thirsty, hurt, and now engaged in a reluctant partnership with a shady criminal that she hated. She wondered if the rest of her life would be spent in similarly distasteful situations. The Boy gave her a wide grin as if in response to this question.