dirt-stained pages. “Are these even readable?”
“It depends on if Collectors can read.” Inna giggles as Neil tightens his jaw. She covers her mouth as she tries to control the volume of her laughter. She knows this is a library after all, but she finds it funny how Neil is always so serious. She calms herself down. “Yes, they’re fine…for the most part,” she says. “One might have to use their imagination for a chapter or two, but maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Why not sell them at your shop? Use the money for rations.”
“I’m not thirsty,” she replies.
Neil eyes her from head to toe: a girl dressed in pieced together recycled clothing with a wagon covered in burn marks, all the way over here in the concrete jungle just to donate a handful of books. “You’re strange, did you know that?” he tells her.
“Says the Collector who mingles with a slum girl.”
Neil recoils back, her joke nearly slapping him across the face. It reminds him of his role and that he is walking a fine line just by talking with anyone that is not related to an assignment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Inna apologizes, sensing that her joke made him uneasy. She returns to their original subject. “These old stories shouldn’t just be left to rot. Books are a window into the times they were written; a snapshot into the soul of the people whether the author intended it or not. We can’t let that type of honesty be lost to time. At least here they’ll be preserved.”
Neil grabs one of the books and stares at the title, A TROUT FROM THE SOUTH. “Soul of the people?” he smirks.
“You know what I mean.” Inna nearly hits him as she returns the book to the stack.
Inna’s positive naivety once again penetrates Neil’s guard. He smiles. While it’s true he is mingling with a slum girl, Inna’s different. There’s just something about her that draws him in to keep coming back and hanging around her. She makes him think differently. She challenges him to look at the old in new ways. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but it’s refreshing. For a moment he thinks of Wade and the path his rookie chose to follow, but then he yells at himself not to allow Wade’s decisions to infiltrate his mind. What Wade did was drastically different. He and Inna are just talking after all. If reported to the Agency, Mazer might give him a longer than normal stare, or pull him aside to whisper a few harsh words, but overall it’s a minimal infraction. “Do you need a ride back?” Neil offers.
“I don’t mind the SectorLink.”
“I have to go that way anyway,” Neil offers again.
Inna grows silent as she knows what this means – that he has to transport another person to their death. But just as she perceived with him, Neil recognizes his words put a damper on her mood even though it was a lie and he doesn’t have any more assignments for the day. He musters up a quick joke. “You have a black hat lying around? At this rate I could be your personal chauffeur.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he grabs the wagon handle and walks off. Inna scoffs as her empty cart is snatched away. She chases after him and reaches to retake the handle, but he evades her.
“Come on, give it,” she playfully pleads. She tries again but fails. They laugh, bickering like school children.
It is a very odd sight indeed in this day and age: a Collector and a slum girl. Perhaps there is hope left in this world after all.
******
Restricted Access
Have you ever had the guts to cross into a restricted location? There are many of them around the city, especially those deemed too dangerous for us to visit, or even worse, those banned under the penal codes.
There are harsh penalties for trespassing so I suggest you think twice before doing it!
-Quado
10
“D o you know of a tunnel entrance near the landfill?” Neil asks as he navigates his utility truck through the narrow pathways of the slums.
Inna
“It depends on if Collectors can read.” Inna giggles as Neil tightens his jaw. She covers her mouth as she tries to control the volume of her laughter. She knows this is a library after all, but she finds it funny how Neil is always so serious. She calms herself down. “Yes, they’re fine…for the most part,” she says. “One might have to use their imagination for a chapter or two, but maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Why not sell them at your shop? Use the money for rations.”
“I’m not thirsty,” she replies.
Neil eyes her from head to toe: a girl dressed in pieced together recycled clothing with a wagon covered in burn marks, all the way over here in the concrete jungle just to donate a handful of books. “You’re strange, did you know that?” he tells her.
“Says the Collector who mingles with a slum girl.”
Neil recoils back, her joke nearly slapping him across the face. It reminds him of his role and that he is walking a fine line just by talking with anyone that is not related to an assignment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Inna apologizes, sensing that her joke made him uneasy. She returns to their original subject. “These old stories shouldn’t just be left to rot. Books are a window into the times they were written; a snapshot into the soul of the people whether the author intended it or not. We can’t let that type of honesty be lost to time. At least here they’ll be preserved.”
Neil grabs one of the books and stares at the title, A TROUT FROM THE SOUTH. “Soul of the people?” he smirks.
“You know what I mean.” Inna nearly hits him as she returns the book to the stack.
Inna’s positive naivety once again penetrates Neil’s guard. He smiles. While it’s true he is mingling with a slum girl, Inna’s different. There’s just something about her that draws him in to keep coming back and hanging around her. She makes him think differently. She challenges him to look at the old in new ways. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but it’s refreshing. For a moment he thinks of Wade and the path his rookie chose to follow, but then he yells at himself not to allow Wade’s decisions to infiltrate his mind. What Wade did was drastically different. He and Inna are just talking after all. If reported to the Agency, Mazer might give him a longer than normal stare, or pull him aside to whisper a few harsh words, but overall it’s a minimal infraction. “Do you need a ride back?” Neil offers.
“I don’t mind the SectorLink.”
“I have to go that way anyway,” Neil offers again.
Inna grows silent as she knows what this means – that he has to transport another person to their death. But just as she perceived with him, Neil recognizes his words put a damper on her mood even though it was a lie and he doesn’t have any more assignments for the day. He musters up a quick joke. “You have a black hat lying around? At this rate I could be your personal chauffeur.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he grabs the wagon handle and walks off. Inna scoffs as her empty cart is snatched away. She chases after him and reaches to retake the handle, but he evades her.
“Come on, give it,” she playfully pleads. She tries again but fails. They laugh, bickering like school children.
It is a very odd sight indeed in this day and age: a Collector and a slum girl. Perhaps there is hope left in this world after all.
******
Restricted Access
Have you ever had the guts to cross into a restricted location? There are many of them around the city, especially those deemed too dangerous for us to visit, or even worse, those banned under the penal codes.
There are harsh penalties for trespassing so I suggest you think twice before doing it!
-Quado
10
“D o you know of a tunnel entrance near the landfill?” Neil asks as he navigates his utility truck through the narrow pathways of the slums.
Inna
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