Chapter 2: Nothing is Right

  Slowly, Bix curled her fingers inward, making sure they were still able to move. The surface below gave way just a bit, dragging, condensing into her palms. She lifted herself and stared at the brown that crumbled in her hands. She quickly shook it away.

  She shifted, sitting back, placing her weight on her knees.

  Bix felt the world swirl around, as her mind couldn’t quite process anything into a recognizable concept.

  The brown that she hadn’t been able to fully get off her hands seemed to be everywhere. It was nothing like the sludge or waste that sometimes built on the metal grates that allowed ever-running furnaces below Detritus to breathe.

  Sprouting up from the brown was shades of what she knew to be green but were nowhere near the shades of green she was used to. They came up in varying little points. Each little point was a shimmering smoothness that wasn’t metal and they swayed with the smallest of movements.

  Her eyes flickered to pillars of varying circumference, in a warping rough looking textures in more shades of brown, leading into a cascade of even more shades of green in the shape of blades. Though they seemed to sway with the air. They reached all the way to the very sky. A sky that was such an odd shade of blue and seemed higher than she ever thought the sky could be.

  Bix used her arm to wipe her eyes, thinking maybe there was something wrong with them.

  No.

  Everything else was wrong.

  None of it was right.

  Everything was saturated; everything was warm. Everything seemed, both brighter and darker at the same time. Bix patted herself, feeling the standard jumpsuit that was still intact though it was now stained with the brown and green.

  The material was relaxingly familiar. It could also be described as brown, but far more muted. It was specifically made to contrast the various metals that always surrounded them.

  So that they could be easier to find.

  They claimed that was for their safety, but Bix was pretty sure that that was not the main reason.

  Bix looked over the bits of string that threaded into her gloves. She'd always joked they held at least close to the existence of every color. She collected them almost solely of late to rework her fading identification mark back into the fabric. Their marks always had to be visible in some way. And if she didn't maintain her gloves she'd be issued a new pair. She though received these gloves when she'd reached the age that she could start collecting all on her own. The older in charge that day had picked them especially for Bix. He'd thought it was fitting seeing as though they weren't the same shade as her unique colored hair, they were close.

  Bix's eyes fanned out and located her sack a bit away; the sash that normally held it to her was snapped. She rushed forward, snatched it up and held it close to her, looking around for any threats. Finding the area empty of anything that moved, at least. Bix checked her haul.

  Everything was still there.

  At least that was fine.

  Bix shifted out her launcher, one of her earliest creations, that had the benefit of many years of steadied improvement.

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  Lately, she'd avoided keeping it latched at her hip, finding that with how often she was meeting with others, it caused more issues to have it out than to keep it tucked away.

  Now, though, she thought the trouble might just be warranted.

  Bix clipped it to her side and evaluated the area, trying to determine what exactly to do.

  She’d been told only about a few hundred times by the Overseers, the Guards, the Elders, and even the Olders, that she was an ideal collector because she could look at an expanse full of dangers and work her way through it.

  Most of the time, she felt they told her things like that to keep her working at the standard they wanted upheld.

  Right then though, she really hoped it was based in truth.

  She needed to find her way back to Detritus.

  Looking around though, she couldn’t begin to think of where she was. Those from the cities couldn’t help but describe what their homes were like, and this was nothing like what they even described. But it had to be something like the cities, right? What else was there?

  Eldra was her closest city, and those she was born to were vaguely considered a part of it.

  Truthfully, though, all who lived in Detritus knew they were never truly “a part” of the cities, just adjacent.

  They were there to organize materials that the cities might find use in reusing. The residents of Detritus were branded with their first closest city and then with their identifications. A list of brands and corresponding names was printed on every nurturing pod. They were the only names available to Detritus, and there was a strict rule that only one could hold a name at a time.

  It was very hard for those of Detritus to end up outside the territory of their city.

  Anyone would be able to see that she was first Eldra, then from nurturing pod B, in the existence of Bix.

  She was only Bix because the Bix before her had died, and once one died, they were replaced.

  If she was found somewhere that wasn’t Detritus or Eldra. Her stomach churned. She didn’t know how she got here maybe that would mean something.

  Or maybe this would be when one of the unnamed children would receive her name.

  While she was so easily forgotten, the thought left her feeling sick.

  But it was the simple truth of it all.

  The truth of what life meant in Detritus was why, when those from the cities came with their pity, their charity, it always hung uncomfortably on the air.

  The City dwellers would teach the young how to read, write, numbers, and terms that only made sense within the walls of the city. They would bring food and the substance of water. They would claim they were saving them, all while knowing when they left, most of the young would never live to be known as an Older let alone an Elder.

  Everything the City dwellers gave was fleeting. They could never truly give Detritus what it needed.

  Only Detritus could do that.

  She had to get back.

  No matter where Bix looked, she couldn’t find any sign of the walls. All she discovered was more shades of brown and more shades of green.

  Really, the walls always seemed so massive—where in all could they be?

  The ground felt strange; it sounded different with each step. Like food and oils waste.

  Not that she dealt with food wastes much.

  There had never been a doubt that Bix's path was Bits and Bobs.

  Though she knew people complained often of how terrible the smells were in those areas, she guessed that it was a relief that nothing here smelled rancid.

  Not that the air smelled right.

  There was no scent of heat. No smoke. No metallic bite or bending plastic. She didn't even smell the oil that she knew stained her jump suit.

  The air was too smooth. Sometimes it spiked and tickled her nose but most of the time it was just off.

  After a while of walking, Bix heard a trickling sound and stumbled upon a line of what she was pretty sure was the substance called water.

  Bix looked around. It seemed to be unattended, which was odd to her. Those of the city were always so particular about how to distribute water. They never left it unobserved.

  Sometimes because what they brought was in fact not water but something they wanted to see how those of Detritus reacted to it.

  Which was one of a hundred reasons that the fruit of Detritus was far superior.

  Bix knelt down, reached out and touched the liquid. It didn’t burn. She scooped it with her hands and sniffed. It didn’t smell off. Bix slowly drank.

  Bix wrinkled her nose. Water, but never as good as the Faerie sweet Fruit of Detritus. Though this was better then even good water offered by the City.

  How lucky for whoever this was for.

  Bix sat for a moment, looking out at everything then finding it all too over whelming so she stared at the water.

  Where were the walls?

  She couldn't remember a single moment of her life in which she couldn't do a quick spin and see them.

  Despair started weighing around her.

  Bix felt for a moment unmoving.

  Where in all was she?

  Bix turned at a cracking sound behind her.