Feed the Machine

By Mathew Ferguson

Feed the Machine... or die.

Welcome to Cago.

A small town protected by three electrified fences, the people within eke out an existence scavenging in the Scour, the wasteland of ruined junk and twisted metal that is all that remains of the old world. They are forced to feed the Machine to fulfill their yearly quota or be ripped to pieces by the silver mechanical bugs that live within it.

In this broken future, three siblings are fighting to fill the quota, time rapidly counting down to the yearly Feed. If they fail, they'll be forced to sell themselves to Fat Man, a brutal tyrant, to survive.

Their father is long gone, vanishing one night with all their wealth, throwing his family into poverty. Their mother scrapes out a living carting waste for the rich.

Ash is marching out into the Scour, a deadly place inhabited by Scabs, bloodthirsty cannibals, and hazels, monsters of meat and circuitry that stalk the night. A fallen missile is his last hope.

Nola has a plan that relies on seduction or violence - she doesn't care much which if it gets them free.

Silver, youngest and struggling with a mind that turns its sharpest knives inward has a bigger plan than any of them. One that could not only free them but possibly change the world...

A new dystopian science fiction novel from Mathew Ferguson

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mathew Ferguson
• Release date: Nov 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311444219

Mathew Ferguson

Writer/editor since 2003. Worked in licensed publishing writing Disney storybooks, Pixar stuff and a variety of other licensed titles. I wrote the books given out to kids on British Airways and Qantas to keep them entertained during the flight.

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Ash

Look at that motherfucker, Raj whispered into the freezing predawn air, a plume of steam erupting from his mouth.

A few heads turned, people frowning. Ash nodded, not willing to speak, seeing people looking at him as though it was his fault his friend talked too much. He could feel Kin’s warm breath against his ear, his cat’s comforting weight on the top of his pack, his fur brushing his neck, watching. Even Chirp, Raj’s idiot sparrow who only knew two phrases (Fuck yes! Fuck no!) had enough sense to stay silent.

The hazel stalking around outside the three fences protecting Cago was like Kin in shape and color but ten times the size, muscles bulging through black fur. This one was young—only half the size of a full-grown, pushing maybe fifty kilograms.

Everyone stood watching it as it moved around, waiting for it to leave. There had been fighting in the night and an adult hazel had been killed. Its mauled body lay a few meters past the gates, a hundred-kilo bloody mound of flesh and circuitry, wires glistening in the fence lights. As soon as the gates opened, bugs would stream out and reduce it to nothing—not even a bloody smear—collecting the precious organic material.

The hazel stalked over to the bloody mess and sniffed at it, opening its mouth and showing white teeth tipped with glints of silver. Because it was young, its teeth were not fully metal, its saliva still only very weakly acidic.

Stupid hazel, Kin whispered in Ash’s ear, low enough so no one else heard and showered him in glares. They hated the sun but sometimes would hide out in any shadow they could find if they were interested in prey. The guards couldn’t open the gates until the hazels were gone and hours of searching lost while you waited for a hazel to walk off couldn’t be recovered.

Ash reached up and scratched his cat’s ears, Kin pushing his head against his fingers. It was a comforting feeling—his warm fur, the brush of his whiskers, the touch of his breath on his hand—but not enough to shake off the chill that seemed to have settled deep in his bones.

The cold morning was to blame, his crappy hasdee-printed clothes doing little to keep him warm but it was mostly how far subzero his family was on the quota that was pulling him down. With only days until Feed when the quotas would reset and Fat Man would possibly buy all the debts, he and Raj had to have a fucking miracle out in the Scour to get warm. Raj needed less of a miracle though—his family was only minus seven hundred or so.

Ash shook himself out of these thoughts and glanced around at the mass of poor people, plumes of breath steaming from their mouths. He knew their quota debts almost by sight. Hefnan, scrawny and sunburned, his nose blistered red from sun outside and too much alcohol inside was down deep chill, heading to absolute zero. Somewhere down at minus eight hundred. He went cold eight years ago their mother said, spending most of the year paying off last year, never getting ahead because every time he found something worth anything, he went to the pub with it rather than the Machine to trade. Fat Man owned him forever. He was barefoot, his clothes ragged gray, the strips of fabric pulling apart, so far down he couldn’t even print off the cheapest thin-sole shoe. Even the silver collar around his neck seemed dull and worn out.

Ash let his gaze drift past Hefnan to the Los Tantos brothers. They were minus five and they’d clear their quota today. It was easy to get jealous about it. Their friends would be clapping them on the back in celebration, smiling through gritted teeth. It was hard for the cold to be happy for the warm, even if tradition dictated their first day over they’d hand out the day’s finds in little gifts. A screw here, a piece of wire there. Just a drop to pull the quota up. Their dogs sat curled up at their feet.

Ash looked back at the hazel. It was sniffing and prodding at the bloody mess with its paw. As he watched it pulled on a thread of wire with its claws, tugging at it, jumping away, looking so much like Kin playing Ash nearly laughed aloud. Unlike Kin who only gave you light scratches and maybe a bite if he became too excited, the hazel would rip your arm off, lodge its teeth in your throat. It was no pet to sit purring on your lap. It danced around, swatting at the dead hazel, playing with it before walking off to a darker spot of shadow under an overhang to sit and stare at the crowd with its yellow eyes. Some of the junk and rubble had moved in the night and a piece of metal was sticking out. It was pockmarked with holes and it was the collective wish of everyone watching the hazel that it wouldn’t be able to put up with the beams of light streaming through once the sun came up. As soon as it vanished and the gates opened a guard would have to cut the overhang away.

Something brushed against Ash’s foot. A red-striped bug, one of many, making its way to mass at the gate. They were getting ready to travel unaccompanied out into the Scour. As the bugs trickled around them, Ash saw many people look down and the same idea flicker across their minds: stomp them into a paste of metal and goo. It was forbidden to do so of course but out of sight of others, bugs went missing all the time. The rich didn’t care much. When you had five hundred bugs working for you, fifty lost a day was no problem. Especially not with a top-of-the-line hasdee to churn replacements.

At the sight of bugs, Ash touched the bag hanging from his belt. It had ten bugs in it—half their family’s entire stock. His sister Nola had the other ten and they were on strict pap duty, collecting any organic material they could find to make food. Counting them by touch and weight, Ash relaxed. He hadn’t lost a bug for months and he didn’t intend to start now.

Time ticked by, the dark sky lightening, changing to hues of pink and orange and the crowd and the hazel stared off at each other. Finally the hazel stood up and strolled out to the dead hazel, sniffing at it again before jerking its head up as though it had heard something. In an instant it was off, sprinting away from Cago and into the Scour, disappearing over a mound of rubble and junk.

Ash let out a quiet relieved sigh with the other residents.

Wow, did you see that motherfucker run? Raj said, earning himself more glares.

Before someone could tell him to shut his face, the sun climbed over the hill of junk and rubble, the sentry with the binoculars waved his hand and the three gates buzzed open.

The people of Cago trudged out to start another day in the Scour.

Chapter 2

Ash knelt on the sunbaked earth and pulled at the threads holding his pack together, ignoring the sound of Chirp diving at Kin and repeating Fuck yes! over and again. Kin was sitting there stoic but lashing his black tail back and forth.

If he dives me again, I’m going to eat him, Kin said. It was directed more at Raj than Ash. Raj clicked his fingers at Chirp who peeled off from another dive and landed on his pack.

Fuck no! Chirp said and started preening his wings.

You right? Raj asked.

He’d lodged himself under a junk overhang in the only shade he could find. A smooth sheet of aluminum, flecked with white. Probably the side of a fridge long ago.

Just a sec, Ash muttered, trying to pull the threads in just the right way to keep the pack together. It had been his father’s pack long ago, kept preserved, hidden away by his mother even through the tough times when selling it would have fed them more than pap. She’d kept it until he started scavenging out in the Cago Scour. It was used, rough and worn but it was strong leather and heavy fabric, tough and waterproof.

Now it was falling to fucking pieces. Just like everything else they owned.

Kin stalked off and sat at Raj’s feet in the shade until Ash tied and twisted the threads into place. This trip was the pack’s last unless he found a way to repair it. It was scraped, cut, stained and splashed with acid from a close encounter with a hazel six months back.

If he had any sense he’d trade it to someone with the pack plan on their hasdee. Mill it down into components, print another one good as new. But he just couldn’t let go of his father’s pack. Besides, they didn’t have the money.

There’s some more shade down there. We can eat, Raj said. He sipped his canteen. Ash nodded, too thirsty to waste mouth moisture on speaking.

He stood and pulled the pack on, feeling it press against his damp clothing, cool with sweat. From a cold day start, the sun had risen and was blistering down like a motherfucker. There was only so much wrapping in hasdee strips could do to protect your skin from burning. Raj had it far worse though—he was a paleboy, prone to burning rather than tanning. He was wrapped like a mummy. On hot days like this Ash was grateful for his pitch-black father, even if he had diluted his sun-resistant skin with a milky white woman.

Ash followed Raj, Chirp taking off again and flying high to look for any danger. Kin stalked behind Raj, walking in his shadow in perfect time. They were on a strip of hard earth between two low walls of rubble, mostly metal and concrete. Good visibility, no shade. They trudged around a corner, still heading roughly northwest and towards the dark pool of shade that had collected under an overhang formed from an airplane wing. It was the thick bit sticking out of the junk, tapering off as it went into the pile, snapped off the body who-knows-how-many years ago.

As they approached the shadow, Kin stalked forward, looking for any hazels that might be hiding there.

It’s clear, he called and walked into the shade.

Raj and Ash followed. Under the wing the temperature dropped a good five degrees. It wasn’t much but it felt like entering an air-conditioned room. Ash closed his eyes in relief and for a moment was in the Wire Pub. They had cooling—not full strength and amazing like the rich end of Cago—but good enough to put a chill in the air. Ash opened his eyes and licked his lips, wanting a cold golden beer more than anything.

He put his pack down and settled for mouthfuls of tepid water. His canteens were all rough gray plastic with near zero insulating ability. It was one of many dreams to own self-chill canteens. Of course, it was a stupid dream in light of the ultimate treasure that filled the mind of every scavenger: to find a sourcecube. Such things were the nights of hungry children and adults alike filled with. To find a cube filled with plans no one else had. Or even if they did, you got the plans for free, an infinite supply of whatever it was. Beer maybe. Ice cream. Beef, wetly red and laced with delicious fat. Tools, weapons, clothes.

To find a cube meant wealth unending. Why would you want a self-chill canteen? You’d just send your five hundred bugs out for you. Run your hasdee day and night making everything you ever wanted.

Ash sat down on the dirt and opened the top of his pack, careful not to pull on it too much, and took out the top block of pap.

You know, the missile is probably like a few ton. Might be filled with hot stuff or it cut down in the pile so we can find hot stuff, Raj said, showing Ash a mouthful of yellow pap.

Ash looked down at his own pap. It was white with a few traces of yellow, slight additions of vitamins. Their hasdee was the lowest weakest and worst model—all exposed wires and chunky extrusion tubes with only the basic plans in it. Pap you could live on but not really. Pap you could die on.

He put it in his mouth and chewed it anyway.

The missile was all they’d talked about since yesterday. Most days they went out together but yesterday Raj had gone northwest and Ash had hit the east, heading towards the town of Char on a hunch he couldn’t ignore. It had come to nothing—he’d collected the usual plastic and metal—but when he’d returned to Cago Raj had been waiting there, jumping around more than that idiot bird of his. He’d been out far, digging around, when a giant fucking missile dropped right out of the sky. Chirp had flown up and marked a crash site but it was too far for Raj to get to before dark.

Raj had already scouted out other scavengers, listening in on conversations and found no one else had seen it. Or if they had, they were keeping quiet. Ash and Raj conspired to keep it that way, swearing to tell no one except their families in vague terms and made their plan.

It was least a whole day march out. They’d have to hollow out into the pile and seal up for the night. Next day keep walking until they hit the crash site. Most of a day searching, finding treasure, another night sealed up, a day back. Three days all in, walking back into town with plenty of time before Feed. Cash in their finds, pay out the quotas and maybe even buy some meat from Fat Man. End the year warm with a belly full of food.

The missile hadn’t detonated as far as Raj could tell. That was good from the finding-a-deep-smooth-hole-no-one-else-knew-about angle but bad from the exploding-to-death side. Once they pulled out as much good stuff as they could they’d try to blow it. It’d pull in scavengers and Scabs like crazy but everyone knew a bomb going off was the best way to find a cube. Half the legends around rich men started with dead missiles falling from the sky.

They sat there for a while, not talking much, chewing pap and sipping water, feeling their feet throb and their backs decompress freed from the weight of their packs. Ash broke off some pieces of pap for Kin who swallowed them down and then sniffed around for more. Chirp fluttered down to peck at some pieces Raj put out, keeping half an eye on Kin and half on his food.

Ash stood, feeling it in his feet and grabbed his pack. Raj followed. They both knew the danger of too much rest. Sit down too long on a march and soon you couldn’t stand again.

Time, Kin?

Two ten.

About four hours until dark. At three and a half hours they’d have to stop no matter how far they’d come and carve out a hole to seal up in.

Ash pulled his pack on, feeling the straps dig into his shoulders. He should have padded them with cardboard but they just didn’t have enough to spare. It was all going into their hasdee to keep them fed or going into the quota to keep them free of Fat Man’s sweaty grasp.

Ash looked at his friend as Raj pulled his pack on and got himself ready. His family was poor too—not quite as poor as the Rose family who was not just scraping the bottom of the barrel but milling it down too. Anyone rich wouldn’t see the differences but to Ash they stood out. One of Raj’s canteens was metal rimmed and could keep things hot or cold for a long time. The strips of his clothes were wider than Ash’s because their hasdee was bigger. Wider strips meant less sewing by bugs which meant less fabric overall and less chances to rip. His pap was yellow, loaded with vitamins and minerals. You could live on yellow pap, preventing scurvy and every other deficit disease. His shoes were thicker, his pack was newer and the cutter hanging from his belt had a longer and stronger beam, allowing him to cut more easily through the junk. Even Chirp, a dolt of a pet when it came to conversation, carried sophisticated scanners.

They’d been friends for a long time, standing as close as two people on adjacent steps. It stung Ash was always on the lower step in every measure that mattered.

Raj swallowed some water and then hooked his canteen on his belt (a metal clip rather than plastic Ash noticed).

Then they kept walking.

Chapter 3

Three and a half hours later they stopped in place and started looking for a strong hole. The sun was setting, the shadows getting longer and soon the hazels and other deadly things of the Deep Scour would come out to fight, fuck, eat and play.

This looks good, Ash called out, standing in front of a twisted mess of steel rebar. It was the strut of a collapsed building, which meant they could get under it and weld themselves in. It was strong and wasn’t likely to collapse in the night.

Chirp fluttered down and gave it a quick scan.

Fuck yes! he said and flew up to keep watch.

Sounds good, Raj said, dropping his pack. They took out their cutters, turning them up high for quick and dirty slicing and started hacking into the pile. Soon they’d dug down under the pillar, pulling out any smooth flat pieces of metal they could find. There were always flat pieces of metal siding scattered under collapsed buildings. Once the hole was big enough and far enough in, they lined the hole with metal siding and welded it closed, making a somewhat sealed metal cocoon.

Need to hurry, Kin commented from the ledge he’d perched on, looking around with his luminous green eyes.

A faint yowl carried over the Scour moments later and was answered by others that seemed far too close.

We’re done. C’mon, Ash said, pulling his pack into the hole.

Raj followed, Chirp fluttering down to sit on his shoulder as he crawled in. Kin jumped down from the ledge, landing in a jingle of loose washers and bolts piled ankle deep in this area. He slipped past Ash, rubbing against him and walked to the back of the hole. Ash and Raj pulled junk down, obscuring the hole they’d cut before pulling the final piece of metal into place and welding themselves in.

Any hazel wanting in to eat them would have to dig through spiky metal to pierce their sealed container. Apart from some airholes, there was no way for anything to get at them.

The hazels are coming, Kin whispered, his whiskers pressed against the metal wall, feeling the vibrations through the pile.

Ash and Raj had stayed out overnight before but not for a year at least. Most of the time you sealed yourself in, the hazels either didn’t find you or were too lazy to bother. Even if they decided to scratch their way through you could fight them off with your cutter, swiping at their paws. If it got bad you’d burn your way out the back and dig further down into the pile, welding it shut behind you.

Ash sat there feeling his heart thud in his chest as the yowls of the hazels grew louder. The metal cocoon echoed with the sound of their heavy feet as they bounded over the pile and came closer. There were oils and scents you could buy to mask your position or draw the hazels elsewhere but neither of them could afford that cost.

There came a low growl that sounded like it was directly outside. The sound of digging. Metal clinking against sharp claws as the hazel scratched at the ground, following their scent but unable to get closer to them.

Soon there was another yowl from outside, then silence before an explosion of fighting and high-pitched screaming. Something heavy thudded against the pile and it creaked ominously around them. In the pitch dark, Ash couldn’t see Raj’s face but he knew his already pale skin would be turning even whiter. As the pile moved, cavities could open and you could drop hundreds of meters. Or your metal cocoon would start to crumple and then collapse under the pressure.

Stupid hazels, Kin whispered to himself.

There came another thud and scream and then it was gone as the hazels outside bolted.

Ash and Raj sat in the silent dark, waiting for them to come back. After a long possibly forever, Ash relaxed and opened his pack. He pulled out his bedroll and unfurled it. As soon as it was out, Kin made himself at home down the tail end.

They ate pap in silence before Raj took a deck of luminescent cards out of his pack and started dealing.

Chapter 4

Ash awoke in darkness with Kin nuzzling against his face, a low purr rumbling through his body. He reached around his cat and pulled him close, stroking down his back and scratching under his chin.

Nearly day, Kin said, his voice distorted by the purring.

Ash heard Raj stirring, Chirp no doubt fluttering against him to wake him. Today they would find the fallen missile. Today they would find a fortune.

Or if not a fortune, enough to meet the quota.

Lies I tell myself thought Ash.

He stroked the back of Kin’s neck as he snuggled closer, pushing his small face under Ash’s chin, kneading his chest with his paws. When he was six, his father had made Kin and he’d been awakened on that birthday like this—with a tiny bundle of fur purring and kneading at him.

Well, not exactly like this Ash thought. When he was six they lived in an actual house on the rich side of town, hundreds of bugs at their command with multiple hasdees printing whatever they wanted. They were never behind on their quota—their number green on the first day of the year, paid well ahead of time. Now, ten years later, he was in a metal cocoon buried in the pile deep in the Scour, down low on the quota in a family fallen far from grace. A father who’d walked off into the Scour taking all their bugs and wealth with him, pushing them into poverty, vanishing. A mother who carted shit and piss for a living, a younger sister who tended bar, drinking so she could bear it and the youngest sister, Silver, sick as always, coughing and sneezing on a good day, hardly breathing on another, burning alive with streaks of red corruption creeping across her skin.

At the thought of his sisters, the cold tendrils of fear slipped around his heart again. Nola would be at home after staggering in from her late shift at the Wire Pub. Customers bought her drinks or she served herself when Burl wasn’t paying careful attention.

Maybe Silver would be asleep, curled in a ball of bones, her skin stretched tight over her skinny frame. Or perhaps she’d be awake, messing around with scavenged electronics. Trying to repair or rebuild or program something from scratch. There was some business to it but not much. Families with a broken toaster might pay her to fix it because it was cheaper than paying for the toaster tempcube or trading for a new one. But that was a thin slice of people. Rich enough to own a toaster, poor enough to not just mill it to make a new one.

Their mother would be getting ready for the day, eating pap for her meager breakfast if the bloody hasdee hadn’t broken down. So close to Feed they couldn’t lose a day instructing their bugs to mill it down and make them a new one. Despite it slowing down, shuddering and leaking, they kept it running, hoping to get through.

She’d be eating fast, no time to waste between sleep and day, shoving the small amount of food in her mouth before bolting out the door, grabbing her squeaking cart and pulling it off to the first house of the day.

Ash would be up at the same time, eating pap, gathering at the gates with everyone else, waiting for the light and another day of scavenging, hoping today was a good find day but they almost never were. With all the bugs flowing out of Cago, nibbling and carrying, you had to go further and further to get good find. But the more time you spent walking, the less time you had digging so a trip out too far might only result in a half-pack full.

Ash opened his eyes and saw the darkness had taken on a lighter gray. Light was leaking in through a small airhole at the front of the cocoon.

They were on the thin edge of nothing. You couldn’t even say every day was the same. It was the same, largely, but incrementally worse. Slightly less pap. One fewer bug. Silver a little sicker. Their mother a little more worn out, a little more bent over. Nola, running ragged day by day, tiredness fighting with youth but youth would soon give way. And him, Ash, walking further away into the Scour every day just to come back with nothing that good. Only enough to knock a few points off the quota.

You awake? Raj asked.

Yeah.

Kin, how long till dawn?

Ten minutes, Kin said, his voice coming from somewhere under Ash’s chin. His purr was a low throb in the darkness.

Is there anything out there? We need to be ready to go.

I’m busy, ask your bird, Kin said.

Fuck no! Chirp said.

They lay there for a few minutes, Ash scratching behind his ears until Kin’s claws pricked his skin and he felt a patch of wet as Kin drooled on his chest.

Okay buddy time to go.

He pulled Kin off him, still purring and sat up.

I want some food.

As soon as you tell me if there is anything outside waiting for us.

Kin lowered himself to the floor of the cocoon and put his head down so his whiskers touched the metal.

Nothing there, he said after a moment. Do you have fish?

Not today. I have pap.

I guess that will do, Kin said sourly.

Ash and Raj stowed their bedrolls and ate their pap in the gray darkness, sharing their food with Kin and Chirp. Once Kin announced the official sunrise, they took out their cutters and opened the cocoon. As they cut, it creaked around them, the weight of the junk on top of it threatening to collapse it.

Careful, Raj breathed, pushing the metal up. Some junk and rubble had collected on the other side during the night. They pushed it away until the hole was big enough for Kin to creep through.

Safe, he called back.

They cleared out the hole and Raj climbed out, Chirp fluttering into the sky to keep watch. Ash passed out their packs and crawled out, careful not to cut himself on some of the sharper pieces of metal.

The sun was rising, the night chill swiftly searing away. It was going to be another blistering day, perhaps even hotter than the previous. Ash and Raj went off in separate directions to piss into empty bottles which they then stored in their packs. No scavenger would piss on the ground. Apart from leaving a scent for the hazels or Scabs, there were too many stories of trapped or lost scavengers staying alive thanks to drinking their own piss. In a desperate moment you could instruct your bugs to build a little hasdee to reprocess shit into pap too—provided you knew what you were doing and were carrying the right tempcube to reprogram your hasdee. Ash had one of Silver’s stored in his pack just in case.

They covered their cocoon as best they could—they’d be staying there on the way back—and started their long march. Most of the morning they followed a long winding path heading roughly northwest through the junk.

The temperature rose degree by degree every minute, the sun searing down upon them. They didn’t talk, saving moisture lost from an open mouth. They walked and listened. The chances of a hazel attacking in the day were virtually zero but there were other dangers. The uncollared Scabs were first on the list. They were vicious and violent cannibals who loved nothing more than feasting on scavengers. They allegedly owned hasdees—but preferred fresh meat.

The corridor of junk grew narrower and disappeared into a dead end. Ahead of them was a steep sloping wall of rough concrete and iron rebar sticking out, twisted and rusting. At the base of the pile were broken glass pots and a half-smashed pram, one wheel nearly intact. They both had a quick look—sometimes there were broken tablets stuck in pram pockets—but this one held nothing.

Fun, fun, Ash muttered and led the way, climbing the pile of junk, feeling it shift under his feet. Kin climbed next to him, using his sharp metal-tipped claws for traction.

Raj followed after instructing Chirp to fly up to see if anyone was around. He called back fuck no! in his high voice before fluttering back but Ash still wasn’t taking any chances. Scabs often sat out on the tops of hills or other high places, sometimes with binoculars, looking for prey. He reached the top of the pile but stayed low, looking around. No smoke from cooking fires and no movement. Raj climbed next to him and flattened himself to the ground as best he could atop somewhat spiky rubble.

See anything?

Still checking.

Ash squinted across the mounds that stretched out for kilometers around them. In the far distance, the piles grew higher until they were like mountains. One was surrounding a toppled skyscraper that sat on a forty-five degree angle, split open, revealing its naked iron bones to the sky. He knew beyond that was an area marked on all maps as Death. The Scabs lived on the periphery of it, a deep canyon that split the earth. There were a thousand stories about it. Giant bugs lived there that would eat you. The ghost of every criminal ever hung on a rope was waiting to pull the living down to join them. There was treasure but it was cursed. Sometimes bastardos bragged they’d sneaked through the Scab camps and pissed over the edge of the canyon. No one believed them even as they laughed at the story. The plain fact was anyone who went too close died.

Everything around them was in shades of brown, black and gray.

Ash looked south at the white glow over the horizon. Even in the day it was bright, as though competing with the sun itself. No one knew what it was. Perhaps a city surrounded by fences and lights. Perhaps something else. From their vantage point, he could see the Gap and the sharp edge where the junk cut off abruptly. The line of the edge curved until it crossed the horizon, implying a circle of enormous size.

He glanced to the southeast, back at Cago. It was hidden from view by a wall of junk but it was still comforting to know it was there.

Anyone?

Ash shook his head.

Not that I can see.

C’mon Chirp, Raj said. Chirp fluttered down to sit on his pack.

Ash climbed