The dark dingy dirty stairs lead up to a bright dingy dirty street.  A packed street.  Dozens of open air stands fill the road.  Dozens, more like hundreds, of people walk, shop, talk, yell, back and forth.

All of them create a wall of noise I felt walking into.

Some wear a lot of clothes.  Some wear a little.  Colors clash but all are as dirty as the rest of the environment.  Heat haze ripples the distance.

The air is hot and dusty.  The funk from the crowds dirt and sweat, powerful.  Buildings on both sides of the double wide street have clearly not seen repairs, or paint, in a long long time.

Some are so run down that they are half collapsed and abandoned.  Most though are in use.  Hawkers stand out front of the open shops screaming at the perusing masses.  Competing with the owners of the market stalls.

*grip*

Get a better view by climbing up the corner of a building.  Yeah, feeling a lot stronger now.  Parkour that shit.  If it wasn’t for all the guns and occasional cybernetics in view?  Might think I was back in a trade city on Ipra.

Of course the clothes remind me more of Earth.  “Modern” looking shirts, jeans, shorts, boots, and shoes.  Christ.  When was the last time I saw tennis shoes?  Most outfits are tailored to be loose and baggy.

(Probably to help deal with the heat.)

It's not hard to avoid the debris thrown at me by a couple of this building’s occupants.  One even waves a gun at me but gives up when she sees I’m not getting any closer.

The buildings here are all three or four stories tall.  Most of the not broken windows are open.  Many have people leaning out of them.  Watching, yelling, waving, at the spectacle of humanity below.

Hawkers offer everything from food to sex.  In fact the structure I’m hanging off of right now seems to have a bar above the basement clinic I was in.  Looks, and sounds, like the higher floors are a whorehouse.

(Or those are some very horny residents.  Nina?  Where am I?)

[Processing…  Data available is limited without payment.  Suggest depositing currency in an account for more access.]

(Bet I don’t have the money for that.  What can you tell?)

[Adapting…  You are on Trade Street in the Mudalk District of the Oberkatsu city-state.]

(City state?  What do you…  Oh.)

Turning my head, beyond the heat haze, I see a wall in the distance.  A big fucking one, good mile or more away.  And in the distance beyond that wall?  An even taller wall.  The horizon is dominated by skyscrapers.

(For them to look that big and tall from this far away?  They must be huge.  What are those dots moving around?  Flying cars?)

What I thought, at first, were birds?  Are moving in way to organized pattern.  They must be huge.

[Correct…  Flying transports can be found in the inner districts of city-states.  For safety reasons they are usually not used beyond the walls.]

As Nina explains, a larger dot rises on a pillar of fire and quickly disappears into the sky.

(Whoa whoa whoa.  Spaceships?  They even have spaceships!)

[Correct…  Orbital transports are also in use.  The inner system has significant quantities of critical economic resources.]

(Sweet.  It's really cyberpunk.  High tech.  Low life.)

[Inquiry…  Your memories do not have matchable data.  Have you experienced severe head trauma recently?  Have a family history of mental illness?  Taken regulated substances without licensed medical supervision or prescription?]

(So you want to know if I’m brain damaged, crazy, or high?)

[Adapting…  Yes.]

(...Maybe?  Well, no, mostly.  I’m just not from around here.  Well this body is.  But I’m not.)

[Interrogation…  Then where, exactly, are you from?]

(Can’t you tell?)

[...]

(Did I just see you thinking?)

[Correct…  Your recollections are impossible based on available data.  The temporal and dimensional travel you experienced does not match any records available to me.  I am unable to reconcile it.]

(So?  Aren’t you just a control module whatchamacallit?  What does it matter what my memories are?)

[Correction…  I am an assistance module.  In order to support you I must establish a base-]

*HOONNNGGGG*

(What the fuck is that?!)

The windows on both sides of the street empty as their occupants leave.  Soon emptying the buildings.  The street crowds shift to the sides and the stalls rapidly pack up and pull back.

(Are they clearing the middle of the street for a parade?  Wait.  Are those train tracks?)

[Adapting…  Yes.  Trains are the primary method of intercity transportation.  They are the secondary method for intracity transportation.]

(So this place is a train stop?)

[Correction…  Train stops are dedicated facilities.  Given the behavior of residents I believe this is a charity transport.]

(Charity?)

Below I see the masses pulling out canteens and mess kits similar to my own.

[In order to reduce the frequency of riots, some city-states contract with civilian agencies to provide a minimum of nutrition and hygiene to underserved segments of the population.]

From the distance a long black line crawls closer and closer from the outer wall.  Vague memories of locomotives pale in comparison to this monstrous machine that just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

(Steampunk?)

A giant engine pulling equally huge cars muscles through the heat haze.  As tall as the buildings beside it.  Hundreds, maybe thousands, of tons of black metal with blue neon highlights, pushing down the street.

The ramming pistons of its engine are so large they send shockwaves through the gathering masses.  Its enormous steel wheels shower the street with sparks as the dozen plus cars grind to a stop.

(Dieselpunk?)

There is another just as big locomotive at the other end.

Besides the black and neon, gold designs appear here and there on the train.  Religious looking emblems that vaguely remind me of christian crosses proclaim its owner.

Many among the waiting act like pilgrims and kneel in prayer.  Grateful for the blessing they are about to receive?

(Train churches.  Well now I’ve seen everything.)

[Clarification…  One of the charity organizations for Oberkatsu appears to be a religious sect.]

(No shit, Sherlock.  Fuck me.  I have a bad history with most things called holy.)

Like, a really bloody history.

A cracking clanking sound is heard and a cloud of escaping steam seen as some of the cars split open.  The sides fold down until they reach the pavement, revealing.

(Hello stormtroopers.  Is that power armor?  Damn, even mecha?  First cyberpunk.  Now Gundam?)

[Adapting…  The soldiers in body armor with rifles are labeled as “members militant” of the church.  The ones in powered armor, both single and dual piloted, are labeled as “members mechanized.”  Additionally, your memories of Gundams indicate they are much larger.]

(Nina, don’t harsh my buzz.  Trying to get my nerd on here.)

[...]

Church troops smoothly march down the sides and form a perimeter around the train.

Cracks sound and steam blows again as more cars slowly drop their sides.  Their contents?  Kitchens, showers, and thrift stores?

(Nina?  What’s up with the salvation army?)

[Adapting…  The clothing items are donations.  Along with basic sustenance and hygiene, clothing helps maintain the slums surrounding the city proper.]

(Maintain?  Why bother?)

[The districts between the city’s outer walls and wastelands are an important buffer zone.  They absorb assaults from monsters and mutants that would otherwise attack the state’s fortifications directly.]

(Ouch.  That seems a bit harsh.)

[Inquiry…  How?  The city-state provides a rallying point for survivors and opportunities for exceptional individuals to rise from resident to citizen.  Those who do not participate or fail can at least help protect those who do and succeed.]

(Okay, okay.  I get it.  Hardly like I have any place to talk.)

[Adapting…  Your memories reveal concerning levels of violence and cruelty.  Have you ever been tried for war crimes?]

(You a funny whatever the hell you are.)

The prayertroopers start pulling and pushing the dirty peasants, which am us, into lines next to the kitchen and shower cars.  Then start shoving the masses through.

(Witnessing the violence inherent in the system.  Help help.  They’re being repressed.)

Some lines are marched through the kitchen cars.  Go up one set of stairs.  Turn in their kit and canteen at the start.  Get handed filled ones at the end.  Before going down another set of stairs.

Industrial sized washers clean the mess kits in between.

(What the hell is that goop?)

[Basic nutritional supply.  Provides essential dietary needs to maintain minimum health standards.  The water has been filtered to remove the majority of toxins.]

(Yummy.)

Other lines pass through the shower cars.  Stripping on the way.  Their clothes and shoes ride on a conveyor belt looking thing though other industrial washers.

Notice that while everyone goes through the kitchen line.  Not everyone queues up for the shower line.

A potato like smell spreads from the kitchen cars while an antiseptic style odor wafts from the shower cars.  Combining to form a strange scent that soaks into your skin.

The scale and organization are impressive.  Hundreds are rapidly being herded through.

(Hey, Nina, wha-)

[Interruption…  Someone is trying to get your attention.]

(Eh?)

Looking down from my perch I see a boy waving and yelling.

“Hey Shank!  Shank!”

*crunch*

Letting go of the wall I drop a couple dozen plus feet to the street.  Landing in front of the boy whose eyes get big as plates while a few new cracks appear in the ancient pavement.

“Whoa!  Bro!  You got the upgrade?  Bones swore you would run instead.”

The child is shorter and younger than me.  Also way too excited.  Almost leaves afterimages as he hops around poking and prodding me.

“Look at these muscles!  Wow!  So hot hot!  Sally’s going to wet herself and Jimmy will get so green!  Cool!  You really got a gun!”

(Do I know this kid?)

[Adapting…  Unknown but his behavior implies that you do.]

Reaches for my pistol so I grab his shoulder to stop him.  Even if I know him, that doesn’t mean I trust him.

“Ouch!  Damn Shank.  So strong.  Go easy man.”

Release his shoulder and he starts rubbing it.  Then tilts his head and gives me a weird look.  His wet clothes steam as the dry heat pulls the moisture out of them.  Guess he went through the shower car already.

“You feeling okay Shank?  You actin funny.”

(Truth or lie?)

[Analysis…  Lying often leads to more lying.  The truth only needs to be said once.  But that doesn’t mean you have to reveal the whole truth.]

(Didn’t know you had a wise and sneaky setting.)

Stare down at the confused kid.

“There were issues with the upgrade and I lost some memory.  The doc said it should come back on its own.”

“Fak, big bro, that sucks.”

You can see the kid putting his thinking cap on.  Finally points to himself with his thumb.

“I’m the hero’s best buddy, Xuso.  Most just call me Digger.  Best scrounger and scout in Tinpan Alley!”

Silence drags on until I motion him to continue with my hand.

“Oh.  More?  Seen brainburns before but I guess yours is way bad.  Uh…  Oh yeah.  Our tribe is the Rockrats and we live in Tinpan Alley.”

More thinking cap time.  Almost hear the gears spinning and grinding.

“Ah!  The tribe went to the Bolster Street train.  Chief sent me looking for you.”  Shuffles a foot.  “Thought you might run too.”

*HOONNNGGGG*

Digger jumps.

“Shit!  You ate?”  Shake my head.  “Me too.  Gotta move or we’ll go hungry and thirsty.”

He grabs my hand and starts dragging me to the rapidly shrinking lines.

(Nina?  Who am I again?)

[Your ident states you are Jaxon Umera.  Exact birth date unknown.  Cellular ageing shows you are around fifteen years old.  You were raised in the Umera Orphanage.  You left the facility almost one year ago.]

(An orphan.  Huh.  Anything else?)

[Adapting…  Nothing significant.  No residence listed.  No next of kin.  No marriages.  No offspring.  Forgive me but this is the typical record of a street rat.  No past.  No future.]

(Ouch.  Again.  Stop with the negative waves.)

Digger alternates between pushing and pulling.  Soon squeezing us into one of the kitchen lines.  I nudge him with an elbow and he barely manages to not be sent sprawling.

“Sorry.”  How do I say this?  “Uh, Digger?”

“Yeah bro?”

“Who am I?”

Xuso turns and looks at me with a huge smile, displaying a set of yellowing teeth.

“Shank?  Really?  Come on.  You are Jax the Shank.  Night knifer.  Bully butcher.  Monster murderer.  You know,-”

On top of his huge infectious grin the eyes show a disturbing twinkle I’ve seen before as he starts hopping a little.

“-the Hero!”

…

(Shit.)