The place smelled strongly of rust, and you could feel a sense of despair all around.
Welcome toScrapland, the jewel of this irradiated toilet bowl we call an island.
Here, beneath a never-ending blanket of clouds, the half-destroyed city offered a marketplace for anything could be bought, sold, or stolen. I was Fixer, and trading was my game.
I'd built my stall – a wobbly stack of scavenged metal and hovercraft scraps – right next to the market's main entrance. That entrance was a huge, decaying cargo ship, now just a rusted-out shell and the only way into the marketplace.
The place was hopping today. I saw the usual crowd: rough-looking raiders searching for guns or blades, wasteland travelers who looked starved, and tech scavengers, their faces lit up by the little screens on their wrists as they searched for valuable data.
"Fixer! You got any Juice?" A guttural voice ripped through the noise. It was Bruiser, a mountain of scarred muscle and cybernetic implants. His kind never asked nicely.
"Depends on what you're offering, Bruiser," I replied, my hand instinctively drifting towards the taser hidden beneath my counter. "And remember the rules: Data chip only. I ain't got time for bartering trinkets."
Juice. The holy grail of Scrapland. Seven drops of that synthetic elixir in distilled water could keep you wired, focused, and immune to hunger or thirst for days. Perfect for a long raid or a desperate escape. And rare as a pre-Collapse virgin.
Bruiser grunted, slamming his massive fist on the counter. "Got a clean fusion cell. Full charge. Worth ten times the juice."
I whistled. A fusion cell was a prize. "Show me the credentials," I said, activating the chip reader on my wrist. He tapped his own, and the data flooded my screen. Clean. Untraceable. Legit.
"Alright, Bruiser. You got yourself a deal." I reached under the counter, retrieving a small, lead-lined vial containing the precious liquid. Seven drops. Enough to buy a man a second life, or a faster death.
As Bruiser greedily snatched the vial, a skinny kid, no older than fifteen, pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes were wide with desperation and his clothes were patched together from scraps. "Please," he croaked, "I need Juice. Just one drop. I'll do anything."
Bruiser snorted. "Anything? You're worth less than the dirt I scrape off my boots, kid." He shoved the kid aside, disappearing into the throng.
I usually ignored these pleas. Sentimentality was a luxury I couldn't afford. But something about the kid's desperation... it nagged at me. "Hold up," I said, stopping him as he turned to leave. "What do you need it for?"
He glanced back at me, suspicion warring with hope. "My sister… she's sick. Bad. They say Juice can help."
"They say a lot of things," I muttered, remembering the lies I'd told myself to survive. "But Juice ain't a miracle cure."
He looked like he was about to cry. "Please, fixer, just one drop. I have… I have this." He pulled out a tarnished locket from around his neck. It was simple, but the metal was heavy, valuable. "My mother gave it to me. It's all I have left."
The locket pulsed a memory in me that I have forgotten. I am gonna take it I already thought. "Alright kid" I replied. "One drop for the locket. Deal?"
His face lit. We touch our wrist and I took the locket and he took the juice.
The locket and the fusion core are going to be mine. Tonight. After I am done.
The business got busy, I traded some scrap for food, I traded some food for bullets, I traded some bullets for scrap. Everyone wants something and I got things for it.
The day wore on, the sun disappeared from view, sinking below the edge of the world. This made the shadows grow longer and look spooky all over Scrapland.
Time to close shop. I secured my stall, the familiar routine a comfort in this chaotic world. I looked around. Yep, safe.
I followed Bruiser when he left and followed the kid when he left. Both of them went to their respective destination. The kid went to the slums which probably the sister that he was talking about. I will do him last.
I made my way to Bruiser's makeshift fortress, a hollowed-out bus reinforced with scavenged metal. The fusion cell was calling my name.
Cracking the fortress open was easy enough. Bruiser, predictably, was slumped in a chair, half-conscious from the Juice. I pulled out my taser, delivering a final jolt that sent him twitching into oblivion.
The fusion cell was right where he said it would be. I secured it, a thrill of triumph coursing through me. Now for the locket.
Finding the kid was even easier. The slums were a confusing and depressing place.
The sharp smell of sickness helped me find him. He was in a small, rough shelter. His sister was inside. She was lying on a ripped mattress. Her face was pale. The boy was holding her head. He was trying to get her to drink.
He looked up as I entered, his eyes full of fear. "You… you came back?"
"Yeah, kid. I did," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. I grabbed the empty vial from his trembling hand. "Turns out, one drop wasn't enough, was it?"
He stared at me, realization dawning in his eyes. "You… you lied."
I shrugged. "Survival of the fittest, kid. You should know that by now." I pulled out my taser.
"Why?" he stammered, tears streaming down his face. "Why would you do this?"
I didn't answer. The crackle of the taser filled the small space. As he collapsed, I noticed something glinting on the floor, near his sister's hand. It was another vial, identical to the one I'd given him. But this one was full.
Seven drops.
My eyes widened in horror. I looked at the almost dead woman staring at me and then I look at the almost dead kid on the floor. I took their wristband and I saw a message from both of them.
"We are grateful to be part of this experiment and we hope to serve a purpose"
I screamed in horror screaming so loud the whole slum knows that I did a mistake. The twist turns when it is for the greater good of everyone but it is not for me. I murdered people who have nothing but to help. I thought I am doing this for me.
It hit me. I took the vial and drink everything. As I lay down slowly in the ground awaiting death. I noticed something on my wristband.
"Thank you for serving a purpose. Welcome to level 2 of humanity."