| Electricity
Chapter 1
Razorr
Just as there is a beginning to all stories, there is a beginning to this one. It begins in the Grand City of Razorr, a city, as the saying goes that never sleeps. At the heart of this grand fortress of a city that is the capital and life force of the country of Hijin, is a Great Orb, as there is in all Grand Cities within the metaphorical sphere of Technology. But the Orb in the heart of Razorr is the greatest and largest ever made by man, and it was the pride and joy of the city. But it was the transportation system the wound and twisted itself around the Orb that is the very beginning of this tale, and it was in Sector F-7 that Syn is found working hard to repair a rail so the next tran, which was the chief mode of transportation around Razorr, could get on its way and so that the obnoxious people on it would stop complaining. The first tran was made so that people could look in at the Great Orb in the center of the city, but it caught on so well that someone got the great idea that there should be an intertwining system of trans so that people could get all over the city faster and more efficiently than they had before, and trans were considerably faster than hover crafts. Now the only hover vehicles seen were merchant’s caravans, various ships found at all times throughout the Ginas Harbor, for Razorr was situated on the greatest harbor on the Niomi Ocean and was a prime center for trade, and obnoxious teenagers whisking by pedestrians heads on their hover boards. And the trans, though bubbling over with great uses, broke down often because of the constant use and the high speeds at which they traveled, thus providing jobs for University drop-outs like Syn.
So there Syn was, crouched over with his sweat soaked, not-quite-shoulder length shaggy black hair falling in his eyes so that he had to pull it back with a bandana. His muscles pulled tight from too much strain and various veins stuck out here and there. He’d taken off his shirt to use as a cushion for his bleeding knees against the hard floor of the tran tunnel. He was a hygienist’s worst nightmare. Though he didn’t smell too bad, but the girls drooling at him from the inside the tran couldn’t exactly smell him either. He could have sworn he’d seen those same girls two days ago when this same tran had broken down in this same spot. And then it had again two days before that. No, that’s not suspicious at all. I need a new job. He thought to himself, or at least a new Sector. Contrary to popular belief, the more a tran broke down, the less the workers on that Sector got paid, so Syn decided to complain to his loyal friend, Ramille, who, after he stopped laughing his ass off, went to complain to their boss.
“Wish I had a bunch of girls breaking down a tran every two days just to see me fix it,” Ramille said, holding his stomach from the pain of laughing too hard.
“No. You don’t.”
“Whatever Romeo.” They approached the Director of Transportation’s office and slowly knocked on the door.
“I’ll wait out here,” Syn said, already turning around to head back. He didn’t get along with the boss very well.
“Hey, I don’t work in that Sector. What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, sir but it seems my friend Syn is having a little trouble with the ladies and would greatly appreciate it if you moved him to a different Sector, please?’” All Ramille got as a response was a less-than-friendly death glare from Syn. “Hey, it’s your job, not mine,” was Ramille’s fast response. Syn sighed but entered with Ramille when a small “Enter.” Could be heard form within the confines of the room.
“What do you two trouble makers want now?” said the back of the chair located behind a desk covered in paperwork and various other implements that looked a little threatening.
“Whoa. Syn, did you know chairs could talk?”
“Shut up, Rami.” The chair swiveled around, the plump little man in it glaring at Ramille from behind circular little spectacles that perched themselves on his pathetic excuse for a button nose. His facial fat shuddered when he talked, making him the butt of a thousand jokes, but next to impossible to look at.
“Did you not hear me, boys? I asked what the hell it is you to hooligans want?” The glare of the glaring little man switched form Ramille to Syn. “What have you done this time?”
“We haven’t done anything. It was all Syn.” The phrases ‘Way to be a friend,’ and ‘Well, now that sounds convincing,’ were intermingles due to simultaneous speech and poor Ramille gets glared at yet again.
“Really, sir” Syn said, “he’s just here to be a pest.” Now it’s finally Ramille’s turn to glare at someone, unfortunately for him, though, Syn doesn’t care. “I’ve had some trouble this past week. As you know, the tran that runs through Sector F-7 has been breaking down on what seems to be a pattern these past few days.” The little man nods, his extra chins bouncing up and down making him look too comical for the look on his face, causing Ramille to nearly burst out laughing, but Syn focused on the clock above the man’s head and continued on. “Well, I believe it to be the cause of certain passengers of that tran who seem to have some, uh,” Syn paused, at a loss for words. How was he supposed to say it without the boss laughing at him? Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, Ramille finished for him. “There are these girls on that tran and they keep breaking it so that they can watch him fix it.”
“Is that so? Well then, the problem with that tran seems to be you. Thank you for telling me. You may go now.” The little man looked straight at Syn then away.
“Well is that all? Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Ramille said, confused. But by the look on Syn’s face, he had already gotten the message.
“I just did. Syn’s fired, and you will be, too, if you don’t get back to work.” The little man went back to tending his paperwork mountain.
“But that’s not fair! It’s not his fault some chicks are breaking down a tran just to watch him! Why don’t you just transfer him to another Sector!”
“Because then those girls would figure out he was on a different Sector and start breaking that one down every day. It would be a never ending process unless I had him switch Sectors every two days.” The little man was glaring at Ramille again, but this time Ramille did not shrink away, but glare back.
“Fine then!” He said. “I quit, too!” And, then, being the incredibly mature half-elf that he is, Ramille stuck his tongue out at the little man in the chair behind the desk in the office of the building that he no longer worked in.
“Well, then, that solves a many of my probl-“ but the little man was cut off by the slamming of his office door. Ramille dragged Syn out of the tran station by his arm and then, when they got out into the sun, stated quite frankly, “That guy is such a fat bastard.” |
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