The horizon was carpeted with greenhouses and rain farms. Domes of splotched red and dark blue tinted glass covered wells of dense crops, each topped with several parabolic antennas pointing at the nearest orgone source. Swarms of people and machines ran to each like blood in one’s veins. Time was a limited resource, stolen this cycle. Food needed to be harvested and photosynthetic plants needed to be planted.

Ares reached into his satchel and pulled out a little dark gray case. Unbuckling and opening, he took about a stone colored bar and took a small bite. His face twisted while chewed; his eyes wandered to other rows. Nearly all of the few occupied seats were individuals like him, those that had taken jobs at the edge of the empire. It was lucrative, but wandering too far from civilization was a dance with death. Even a city like Salvar often lacked basic amenities despite the wealth it generated. Security was never absolute.

Directly across the aisle from Ares was a man reading a book. He had boarded just before Ares at Salvar. His heavy coat and gloves were placed on an empty seat beside him; he wore a thin undied korsal shirt and faded brown craftsman’s pants held by suspenders. His dark bronze eyes scanned the page and his fingers played with his curly black hair.

Ares glanced at the small candle-like light above the seats opposite of him. It glowed behind the chair’s back, casting a comfortable draping light. Ares’s head swiveled as he sneaked over to the chair. Under better light, Ares pulled out a notebook from his satchel. 

It was an old journal bound with gray-green mineral leather and filled with a paper substitute known as chartan. Chartan couldn’t last longer than a year even if it was taken care of, but this was a special alchemic variant that could outlast him. He pulled out an inkless metal tipped pen from a little pocket on the side of the notebook and started writing. His writing was chaotic, using distorted versions of the Rudiment alphabet with odd stylization. When he strung them together, no words from Pelevian or any other neighboring language were formed.

There were many drawings in this journal, mostly of different variations of scorch. There were diagrams of their features and anatomy, and several drawings were of dissections, many scorch but a few humans and other humanoid species. Around each of the subjects drawn was a “something.” This “something” had an odd geometry that made one’s eyes flicker. Scrutinizing these “somethings” was like staring into an ocean, not able to see the bottom or the depth. Ares placed his metal pen back into its pocket and stored his notebook in his satchel.

The scene outside drew his attention. The angle of light from Flavius casted the gray desolation in mellow gold. The domes and crowds that covered the dust were draped in yellow. It was a rare moment of beauty, one that could be immortalized in a painting and held in a gallery. Simple pure moments like these never catch the attention of “the artists.” 

His eyes peeled away from the window and wandered down the explored aisles of the train. There was nothing new to see, until his eyes met the man from across the aisle. Eye contact had been made with a stranger; at the same time Ares’s voice had abandoned him. Neither Ares nor the stranger spoke as they looked at each other. Both attempted several times, but only open mouths and swallowing throats proved their desperate struggle.

The awkward silence scratched his skin raw, speared his stomach, and screamed into his ears. Ares’s eyes skinned the room apart for something, anything that could become a distraction, a lure, a weapon. The man, a disciple of a glorious god, broke the stalemate and said, “How’s the migration been?”

“Oh, it has been a…migration.”

“Um. It has been a pain in the ass for me.”

“Very much a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah.” Silence descended like death itself. Within Ares’s heart, Ares knelt down. Clasping his hands together, the first time in years, a prayer was released from his lips to the gods that the man would continue speaking.

“So…What brings you here, aboard this train?”

“I am moving to the Capitol.” 

“Oh, what are you doing in the Capitol?”

“Uh, I am looking to go to a college, perhaps if the Gods will it, the University.”

“Oh really? That’s great! I go to the College of Machina! So you are going for education, what sort of degree are you looking for?”

“Alchemy” Ares’s face broke into an exaggerated smile.

“Ha ha ha, don’t we all! Seriously, what are you looking to go into?”

“I was thinking of going into engineering.”

“That’s great, if machines interest you, shoot for Machina!”

“...I have been wondering, why is someone like you in the barren corner of the Empire? Not to be offensive, but that shouldn’t be a place that would interest you.”

“Ah, me, I am an engineer, I was working for several months on mining and refining equipment.”

“Wouldn’t they hold you at gunpoint and make you stay? The migration is going to be extra brutal this year. They need all the hands they can get.”

“No, I wasn’t completely hired by the companies here. This was more of an apprenticeship for occupation experience. The College called me back for exam season. Even then, I am more of an innovator or inventor than a mechanic.”

“Exam season?”

“Yeah, the end of the dust season starts the final semester of the cycle. Before this semester ends I need to finish the exams. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not to be offensive, but why is someone like you in this barren corner of the empire?”

“I was a bounty hunter near the Badlands.”

The man whistled, “The gods, I never thought I would meet one of you. I heard rumors that most were psychopaths and fearless daredevils. I guess rumors are rumors.”

“No, most of those are true. I am just an exception. I never really took dangerous journeys, I mostly assisted and cleaned up after the more fearless had their fun,”

“I guess that makes sense. Still, it isn’t something that anyone can do and live to tell their story. What is it like near the Badlands?”

“It is devoid of comfort; everything there wants to harm you. There are these weeds covered in barbs that will slash your legs and ravage your clothes. The rocks are all sharp and the air can be toxic.”

“You ignored the scorch. Honestly, that doesn’t seem too horrible when compared to living in a city like Salvar. Most of the factories I have machines that the workers call possessed. These processing equipment have killed several. I, one time, saw a person fall in. I have been able to get a good sleep since. The streets are dirty and only cleaned once a cycle, at the start of the return. And the alchemists. They are always temperamental and willing to kill you if you do so much as look at them the wrong way.”

“Those are more evil than a scorch. Can you tell me about the Capitol?”

“Ah, the Capitol? Of course! It is a wonderful city. I was born and raised there, so there is little I can’t tell you.”

“Great, can you tell me about the districts? I am looking for the Hive. I have a place I can stay there.”

“Oh the Hive! Good luck. It is a wonderful feat of engineering, but it’s a labyrinth. One time I accidentally got separated when my father brought me along to a watchmaker he knew, and it took me several hours just to find my way out. There should be graffiti there to help you navigate. Unless the district council started to crack down on those.”

“The gods, is it really that bad?”

“I am afraid that I am underselling you on how bad it is.”

“Well, this is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Before you go, what is your name?”

“Huh?”

“You never know when it would be helpful to know a bounty hunter.”

“My name is Ares, Ares Arenta.”

“Eburn Carugas.”

The train whistles the approach of the Capitol. The train began to slow, throwing everyone back into their seats.

“Well, may fate bring us together one day.” Eburn gave a smile before gathering his clothes and walking towards the train door.

“May fate bring us together.”