[ this episode includes adult themes and language, reader discretion is advised ]

Season 01 - Episode 05

‘on the edge’

Iz wakes up when someone stands on her foot. She is huddled on the floor, knees to her chest, cold hard brick behind, cold hard metal beneath. She glares after the clumsy stranger but they've already disappeared into the crowd.

She struggles to her feet, continually buffeted by the throng, then joins the flow. Her ragged clothes are stiff and glossy with filth. Their original colours have long since faded towards the same grubby grey as her skin.

Everyone around her is the same, hurrying along, grim faced and hunched. The floor is a metal mesh platform, one of countless in a stack, connected by clanging diagonals, staircases of the same material. Occasional lamps offer thin, tired light but most the of the place is in shadow. The myriad footfalls and voices, above, below and all around, create an endless din.

Iz steps out on the edge of a precarious platform and feels it sag under her weight. There are people here too but there is room enough for her to stretch and scratch and finish waking up. Acrid, orange water falls from above, endless droplets staining everything they touch. It soaks into her hair, slips under her collar, races chilled down her back.

The platforms and stairways cling to the side of a sheer, brickwork cliff face which stretches up, down, left and right, as far as she can see. Over generations, a dizzying jumble of shacks, platforms and makeshift lights have been tacked on and tacked on. The whole, creaking mess is mirrored on another endless wall, about thirty feet opposite.

Between the two walls, a wide open nothing soars up and plummets down for dozens and dozens of floors. It races away into blackness left and right. Occasional, precarious bridges span the void for the brave and the desperate. Periodically, the walls are punched through by doors. These the are the areas of most activity where the crowds churn as counter currents flow in and out, crashing together in a bottleneck frenzy.

Iz watches the closest of these doors until she sees a terrified young man stumble out, swept along on the crowd. Her eyes lock on to his clean face and clothes, not letting let him out of her sight until she stands on his toes. He looks everywhere, yet doesn't see her until he smells her foul breath on his face.

“Looking for something?” she asks, glancing around. He nods and she gestures for him to follow. She leads him through the crowds and down several sets of stairs. He struggles to keep up, unused to the continual pushing and shoving.

Further down the crowds thin a little. Here, Iz drags him behind a rusty panel leaned against a staircase and into the dark little space underneath. In the darkness he looks even more frightened. He wipes the filthy water from his face and stares at his hand, baffled.

“First time on The Scapes?” Iz asks. He nods, dumb with fear.

“Never seen rin before?” she asks, nodding towards his hand. He shakes his head.

“They say it's from us,” she says. “That it rises with the heat of our bodies up the shaft then eventually cools and falls back down.”

“Really?” he whispers in awe, finally finding his voice.

“No!” cries Iz, cackling in his face. “That's a fairy tale for kids, idiot! They're tears, everyone knows that. Life on The Scapes is so hard that The Levels themselves cry for us. You really don't know anything do you? Do you even know what you want?”

He doesn't speak but now stares at her wildly.

“Oh,” she says knowingly. “You want me?” He nods then looks to his feet.

“But I'm so filthy,” she teases. “Or is that exactly why you want me?” He nods again.

“Ok,” she says. “Turn around and let me get ready, then you can have anything you want.” He stares at her desperately for a moment more then turns away.

Iz swings the lump of scrap metal from her pocket with practiced ease. It connects with the back of his skull. He is unconscious or worse before he hits the floor. She quickly strips him and empties his pockets.

“Fucking inners,” she hisses.

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