I’d been beaten up a bit, but it wasn’t too bad once we started walking. The ringing in my ears faded, and having a pretty girl on my arm at the end of a bit of fisticuffs made me feel pretty proud of myself. Even though it was dark now, I was sure that many of the young uptown men looking our way as we walked back to the bay did so with a jealous eye.

Despite my pride, though, I felt confused as well. I knew that the top didn’t like the down. But those workers were no doubt serfs, too. What was wrong with them? I couldn’t just let it sit, so I asked.

“Elli. What was all that back there? Is there something I should know? You know, since I’m bunking with you in Uptown now?”

Elli pursed her lips and blew a raspberry.

“Oh boy.”

What is that infernal noise? Is it not the same noise humans make when trapped in a corner, about to be crushed in the mighty talons of a Resselnacht Mark II Mech? It is annoying. Stop it, CD complained with a high-pitched tone.

I chuckled, and that seemed to release some of the pressure from whatever Elli was about to tell me. Letting go of my arm, she pointed across the mid-tech cobble towards a small little park. It was lightly lit by an electric lamp on either side and had a fountain shaped like some long-gone hero, eternally spilling water from a jug at his waist to burble gently through the small fruit trees that grazed the immaculately cared-for lawn.

Taking the hint, we walked, wordlessly, until we found a neat little bench to sit in. Leaning back, letting the mist of the fountain dampen our hair, I waited until she was ready to talk.

“So, you know how I never invited you to Uptown before?”

I nodded with a chuckle.

“You’ve invited me to your bed many, many times.”

It’s true, CD added. I expected to see little apelets by now.

“CD, can you leave us alone for a minute?” Elli barked.

I was surprised, and I looked into her eyes, spying a hint of hardness I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t know what to expect next knowing CD’s penchant for snark, but it seemed he got the hint, shutting up and letting her continue.

“This is serious. I . . . I’m a mechanic. A machinist. I’m a free woman. But Uptown, they aren’t used to my kind. I’m not supposed to ever make this kind of money. Or at least I’m not supposed to have a place here.”

I frowned.

“But didn’t you inherit that land?”

“Yeah, and what did I do with it? The richers and the poors around here think I should have sold it and gotten a place in Machining. You know, where all us grease monkeys are supposed to live.”

I thought I heard a sharp snort over TUNI, but Elli didn’t react so I ignored it.

“I didn’t know. I’d thought you’d be the toast of the town around here. I mean, look at you!”

She smiled sadly.

“Yeah, maybe if I submitted. I get men sometimes. They come by, asking me to go on a walk with them, to do some courtly whatever. I dunno. It’s weird.”

I grinned.

“Maybe them seeing us doing some courtly whatever will fix things?”

She shook her head.

“No. They’re just trying to make me one of them, really. Probably figure that if one of them can marry me, they can sell off my stuff, lock me in a bedroom, and make the neighborhood normal again.”

I tried to imagine Elli locked in a room, and I really couldn’t see it. She’d have it off its hinges if there was even a hint of a tool left in the room with her. And if there wasn’t, she’d just rip the damn thing apart with her bare hands.

A young couple walked from around the opposite side of the fountain and stopped, gaping, the man almost losing his floppy velvet cap as he abruptly turned them around to walk back in the other direction.

“Kinda feels powerful to me,” I said, the thought suddenly streaking across my mind. “It’ll keep them away from the bays, anyways.”

Elli stared at me, her face unreadably blank until, suddenly, she arched her head back to laugh into the sky. It was a beautiful thing, a mix of unbelieving chirp with the desperate whistle of someone caught completely unaware. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she reached out and hugged me tight, her eyes buried in the shoulder of my serf’s tunic.

“Thank you,” she said. “Al, what would I do without you?”

“Probably create an awesome war mech with the help of an alien AI that you found, become a warlord, and give everyone what they deserve. That’d be my guess anyway.”

Elli giggled and punched my shoulder.

“You really are an ass. Probably why you’ve got such a cute one.”

I laughed, too.

“Well, Elli, I’m here with you. Fuck everyone else. Let’s get back to the bay. We’ve got work in the morning, and then, you know what, things are going to change. We just have to be a little bit more patient. It’s coming.”

We stood, and she held my hand as we gazed out over the neighborhood. It really was quite a beautiful place, despite the ugly people living in it. From where we stood, Uptown unfolded like a meticulously painted landscape, its cobblestone glittering in the beams of the park lamps, shining as if pitted with diamonds. Stately homes stood side by side, their flower gardens and yards longer and wider than many of the homes that I was used to.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

It was marvelous to look at, really. The bricks and stones made in their manufacture were easily more expensive than the serf titles of most of the people I lived beside, and I couldn’t help but wonder why they were so hostile and unhappy.

All through the neighborhood, I spotted ornate balconies, towering columns, and intricate ironwork, forged into picturesque garden fences here, or windows and doorways there.

And past it all, hanging high in the sky, was the full moon, its opulence gleaming over the even more stately spires and domes of the Estates beyond. It was hard to imagine how any other district could be even wealthier than the one we stood in, but the evidence was there.

A muffled and cracked electronic bell boomed over the city and we turned in unison to face the Uptown Clock Tower, watching its eon-old circuitry and old tech struggle as it continued its eternal message of telling workers and their bosses when to rise, work, eat and sleep. We stood in place, listening, until the dings and dongs ended.

It was 9 o’clock.

“Ready to go home?” I asked softly.

“Yeah. I’ve seen enough,” she answered. “But I don’t think I’m quite done yet. Not everyone around here is horrible. I’ve got a friend or two. And one of them shouldn’t be closed just yet. Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

We walked through the Uptown streets, the night growing cooler and more crisp as we did so. The lamplights cast long shadows over us, painting the cobblestones in hues of gold and obsidian, leading us on as Elli took the lead, pulling me through a few intersections before pointing to a small little shop nestled between two newer-looking mid-tech homes.

I stared, trying to make out the flickering electric sign, before realizing that I was looking at a bookstore. It was old-tech, and barely holding on, numerous patches showing on its old and crumbling brick exterior.

“Books!” I exclaimed, meaning it to be a question but I was unable to cover my surprise.

“Yep,” she said excitedly. “This is my friend Chauncey’s place, and if I hadn’t accidentally seen his shop one day, I wouldn’t know half of what I do now.”

“I bet. This is a treasure trove!”

Elli smiled and pulled me along. As we made our way to the entrance, I examined every angle. Its windows were cracked, lit by a soft, flickering light that displayed a selection of manuals with titles like ‘The Alchemist’s Engine’, and ‘Ratchets and Gears’ alongside obvious fictional sagas like ‘Triumph at Atcastle, Book One of the Baron Drecidus series’.

Elli watched me with a hint of amusement.

“Shall we?”

She opened the door to the small jingle of a bell, and we stepped inside. The interior of the shop was a cozy warren of bookshelves, each crammed with volumes, many of them modern as evidenced by their cheap and new-tech make, the paper of their pages and covers flimsy and thin. Some were thicker and sturdier mid-tech, and a chest at the end of the shop suggested that there might even be a few old-tech volumes there for the wealthiest of collectors.

I knelt, checking out some of the titles before sneezing hard, the smell of paper, leather, and dust was not one I was very accustomed to.

A quavering but pleasant-sounding old voice called out.

“Elli! What a surprise! Have you come for the newest Gruetzal release? It’s called Tales of a Strapping Serf Boy, and I hear it is rather lascivious.”

Elli’s face turned bright red as she looked down at my questioning eyes.

“Oh, no need to be silly about it. I know how much you like the free woman, serf boy tales. They certainly have their appeal.”

Elli’s face turned ever redder, and I stood to spy a sprightly and thin man, a shock of white hair sprouting from his head and spectacles perched precariously on his nose. He was standing near a door at the back of the shop, beyond which I could barely make out cracked-open crates and stacks of books. A smile was spread across his face, but it faltered into confusion as I came into view.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry, Miss Elli. I didn’t realize—”

“You must be Chauncey,” I said, smiling wide and striding forward with my hand outstretched. “I’m Alaric. Well met, good sir.”

He took my hand as I came in range, giving it a good honest squeeze.

“Well met indeed. Welcome to my shop. Is there something you’re looking for?”

“I brought him,” Elli said, recovering. “I wanted to show him around town.”

“Ah, Miss Elli. And what a pleasant surprise he is! I expect he is a fellow bibliophile?”

I smirked.

“I’m not sure yet. That strapping serf boy thing sounded fun.”

Elli gave me a mocking glare that I returned with the most sincere look I had in my arsenal. She cracked, straining to hide a grin, and turned back to Chauncey.

“We were just passing by,” she said. “Thought we’d stop in and see if you had any interesting finds.”

Chauncey beamed, leading us deeper into the shelves.

“I’ve just acquired a collection of first-edition tech manuals from the reign of King Baramin III. Fascinating reading, if you’re interested in how we got from there to here. Not so fascinating, though, if you like clever words and good writing.”

I bet. Monkeys writing stories. You must get me a copy so that I might further delve into the implosion of your people, CD said, apparently not capable of staying quiet any longer.

“I’ll take them,” she said, and I could see the annoyance in her face at the AI’s jabs.

Chauncey cocked his head.

“No bargaining, Elli? You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” He turned to face me. “She’s usually quite the blazing beacon when it comes to prices. I’m lucky to make a single cred!”

“I guess I’m just in a giving mood, Chauncey. And we’re not done yet. What else do you have?”

“Ahh! There she is,” he said with a grin. “Follow me.”

Chauncey led us down his meager aisles, pointing out this book or that, often stopping to hold up and brag about them as if they were his prize child. I couldn’t help but feel excited; his enthusiasm for his collection was infectious.

“We don't just have tech manuals and history,” Chauncey continued, noticing my lingering gaze over a stack of fiction novels, their covers hand-painted on. “There's a wealth of stories here that blend the old with the new, the factual with the imagined.”

Bounding from shelf to shelf, we were introduced to such titles as ‘The Mechanical Dragons of the North’, ‘Circuit Farming’, ‘The Knight’s Code’, and, finally, ‘An Artificer’s Love’.

Elli leaned in, her voice low and tinged with excitement.

“Chauncey has a knack for finding stories that make you think, that challenge the way you see the world. It's one of the reasons I love coming here.”

“I bet,” I said, my mind drifting back to her serf boy book.

Chauncey, overhearing, offered a modest smile.

“I believe that books are windows to other worlds, Miss Elli. If I can provide a glimpse into those worlds for even a few people, then I've done my job.”

They began chatting over a different novel and I wandered off, looking at covers and perusing books before drawing out a particularly worn volume, its cover a tapestry of fading gold lettering and the image of some gigantic ice monster bellowing at the cowering figure of three knights. ‘The Chains Infernal’ the title proclaimed, its cover and name promising a story of epic proportions.

“Ah, that's a rare find,” Chauncey remarked, following my gaze. “Written by the seventh prince himself. Would seem that, with inheritance definitely out of his future, he has used his time to become quite the man of letters. A human possesses a demon. It’s quite the read.”

I nodded, my interest piqued.

“I don’t know if I’ll have the time for a while, but yeah, why not? Elli will take care of it.”

We made our purchases, Chaucey handing us a leather satchel to use and return on our next visit, then bid him farewell before stepping back into the cool night air of Uptown. Her eyes rested on my own as I carried the satchel over my left shoulder, her left hand in my right.

“You’re right. This district isn’t total crap”.

Elli squeezed my hand.

“There are good people here. They just don’t make themselves well-known. It’s always the jerks who stick out. Come on, let's head back,” she said, her voice warm and happy. “We've got a lot of work to do, and a lot of sleepy cuddling before that.”

I grinned and shook my head. Elli would never give up, and to be honest, I was rather sure she was wearing me down.