A Fine Idea

Posted on Thu Apr 27th, 2023 @ 4:32pm by Glitch & Ebenezer Winch

2,722 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Welcome to the Hometown
Location: Hometown One

Pulse finished his shift on the recovery team a little while ago. It had been an interesting job this time around...some little oddities here and there along with the normal big items. But he didn't ask questions. He just did what he was supposed to do. After getting home and cleaning off most of the sand and dirt from the day's trek through the wastelands, he put some time into his workshop.

Manipulating rusty metal fragments into small gears took some time. He had to clean them first and get them back to a decent polish before sizing them to fit. He'd been working on this project for several weeks in his off time. A project that he wouldn't be able to use, but maybe someone else could. And that meant a good trade in his future.

But now it was time for the evening meal. And he needed a break from the small work he'd been doing. He removed his goggles and leaned back while stretching his arms over his head. Pulse felt his back pop in several places as it hit the top of the chair's back. He let out a contented sigh and sat there for a minute, relishing the feeling. As for food, he'd decided to treat himself at one of the food vendors on the ground level. Who knew what kind of 'delicacy' they'd have this evening.

The "Night Market" street vendors of Hometown One were misnamed as they ran around the clock. No one could really agree how they got the name, but it stuck. Some say it was from all the blackened pots and pans and some said it was constantly burnt food.

A wide variety of stalls were in full swing ranging from just salads to fully prepared delicate dishes of the rarest cuts of meat prepared to order. Only prepared to order in such places that had very little business and the business they did get was with servants who wore the livery of some of the upper echelon that dwelled in the upper levels of Hometown One.

Pulse took in the busy sights of the vendors. There were definitely some long-ish lines in some places, but not at others. He ignored the salads as he'd always been a meat and potatoes kind of man. Well, meat and whatever he could get with it that wasn't salad. He walked up to the one of the vendors with a medium sized line and waited. There were a few people that chatted among themselves, but Pulse kept to himself. If he was lucky, it'd stay that way until he reached the vendor's counter.

The line moved quickly enough as he'd hoped and soon the customer in front of him got their order and stepped away from the counter.

The cook, a big bald mountain of a man with a unibrow, a greasy apron over his bulging stomach and stained t-shirt with a pair of shorts on stepped up from the other side. "Whatchawan?"

"Gimme a slab of beef, if you got it. 'Bout the size of your fist," said Pulse. "What kind of vegetables you got back there?"

"We's gots some tubers, some carrots, lettuce, maters and hot peppers," the chef said.

"Hmm, I reckon I'll take the maters," said Pulse. "Don't slice 'em or cut 'em up. Just right on the plate as whole." He listened to the quiet hum of idle chatter around him for a second as he took in the smell of cooking beef. He inhaled through his nose deeply and breathed out. Looking at the vendor, he said, "That'll be it."

"You gots it, Boss," the cook said as he reached to grab two maters in one big hand and plopped them on a biodegradable disposable tray. He turned and picked up a fork that some would describe as a small trident and jammed it into a large pot on the stove. He pulled up a large hunk of some beefy looking meat and reached for a knife with his free hand. With a measured eyed, he deftly sliced a hunk off roughly the size of his hand and flipped it onto the plate. "Da bill's twenty-five creds, Boss."

Pulse unbuttoned the internal pocket on his jacket and retrieved the creds. "Here ya go," he said, tossing the creds on the counter. "Pleasure doin' business." Whether it was or not, Pulse didn't really care. But he didn't want to get on the wrong side of someone cooking his food.

"Sure ting," the chef said before he turned to another customer. This one was a woman with loose fitting black pants on, a corset top that had a gear pattern on it, black hair pulled back in a bun, and covered from her elbows down in some type of mechanical gloves.

She placed an order for a vegetarian sandwich of lettuce, tomato and cucumbers with house dressing before she turned to Pulse. "You trust meat here?" she asked casually.

Pulse turned to the voice that had addressed him. "As to what kind, not really. You ask for beef hoping it might be from a cow, but realizing it might be something else. Or worse, that it was caught in the back an hour ago. As to whether or not it's thoroughly cooked, I got a way to fix that."

Pulse usually carried a variety of small brass and steel rods in one of his jacket pockets. When it came time for extra cooking of vendor meat, he formed sharp points on both ends of a two millimeter diameter, four inch long brass rod and stabbed it through the meat. Then he applied electromagnetic energy pulses to one end, through the meat, and out the other end with his fingers.

"Caught out back an hour ago would at least mean it's fresh," she pointed out. "I'm just giving you a hard time. I'm Tremor. What's your name?"

"Heh, good point about the freshness," he replied. "No worries either. I've given my fair share of hard times to people over the years. I wouldn't dish it out if I couldn't take it. Tremor, huh...name's Pulse."

She smiled. "I don't think I've seen you around here before, but I doubt we work the same areas. I generally work with crews breaking things down."

He noticed her smile and returned a half smile of his own. "Yep, usually not out and about much. I'm on a recovery team...spend most of my days outside to some degree. So
I typically stay in after the job. How long you been breaking things down, Tremor?"

"A few years," she said. "I was late in discovering that I could even do what I can. Then it nearly cost me my arms."

Pulse glanced toward the vendor to see if his fellow Townie's food was ready. His meat was chilling, but that was okay. His method of ensuring a thorough cook also reheated it. "Sorry to hear about the arms. But it looks like you've got things under control now." He looked at the contraptions strapped to her arms from shoulder to hand. "Do the pistons soften recoil?"

Tremor collected her lunch and paid a fraction of what Pulse did, then shrugged. "Something like that," she said as she turned to look for a table. "Doctor Cipherous explained it far better, but my only concern was to not lose my arms because I couldn't control my own power."

Pulse nodded towards a table and started walking. "Doc, huh. Well, seems he helped you pretty good. How well can you control it now?"

She headed after him. "For the most part, I can control it without worrying. If I push it, I usually have bruises all over my arms for about two weeks."

"Bruises? Dang girl, all over your arms... That must not work well with your job." Pulse sat down at the table and situated himself. "Is there a healing mutant at your worksite that could help? Or Doctor Cipherous?"

"There are," Tremor said as she sat down across from him. "But they're expensive at times. I had to work ten doubles for each gauntlet to be able to afford them."

Pulse sighed as he removed a two millimeter diameter brass rod from his pocket. "Don't I know it," he said as he formed sharp points on both ends of the rod. "I swear if one of them ever comes to me for something, I'll make sure I wind up on the winnin' end of that deal." He then shoved the double spike through the hunk of meat and put an index finger at each end. He applied electromagnetic energy to one end, through the meat, and out the other end with his fingers.

He glanced back over at the gauntlets while reheating and thoroughly cooking his food. "I don't doubt it. Nice craftsmanship and fine metals."

She watched him with a bit of intrigue in her honey brown eyes and cocked her head. "Thank you, but I think I should say you have a very interesting technique there. May I inquire how you achieve that?"

Inquire...achieve..., he thought to himself. Pulse didn't hear those kind of words often. "Sure, you can ask how I do it. It's my mutant ability. I can manipulate metal and electromagnetic fields. Unless you're talking about reheating and cooking the meat. Then its done by using electromagnetic induction and heating the brass." He stopped the process so he wouldn't burn his dinner.

"Fascinating," Tremor said. "A very unique application of power and technique. Why, I do believe you could perform feats that others have yet to dream of, Pulse." Her voice had a touch of a accent not often heard after the Glitch and the way she took a dainty bite of her sandwich indicated that she had some cultured upbringing at some point.

Pulse shrugged. "Just figuring out how to not die from the food." He picked up the tomato and took a bite like it was an apple. Some of the juice ran down the corners of his mouth and caught in his beard. His table manners had never been the greatest. He wiped it off with a napkin and swallowed.

He noticed again the language difference. "Sorry. It can be a long trip from Level 56 when you're hungry. You ever have that feeling, Tremor?"

"A bit, but I prefer to eat like an animal in private," she said with a teasing tone in her voice before she took a dainty bite of her sandwich.

Pulse paused with a slice of the meat in front of his mouth. He looked at Tremor. Then he chuckled. He didn't laugh much anymore. Just a chuckle here and there. "Private, public...I guess I'm an animal when it comes to food. So what kind of unique applications does breaking things apart have?" He put the slice in his mouth and ate it.

She gave a small polite laugh before she dabbed the corner of her lip with a napkin. "Mainly getting into locations others have failed to because they didn't have what it took to bring a wall down or shake a pile of rubble to dust."

Pulse nodded and gave a 'mhm' in reply. "Sounds like you've got what it takes with those powers, then. He paused a moment and thought about something. "I've worked on an Outdoor Farm, the Ironworks, and I'm on a Recovery Team. Don't recall too many jobs that need a wall knocked down or rubble made into dust. Huh, unless you're sent with a Team to take down walls and rubble in an old city. That'd help a lot. You a Teams person, too?"

"A bit," Tremor said noncommittally. "I'm go on some Recovery Teams when needed, With all that you do, I'm surprised that you have time to be awake."

"Oh, uh, I'm only on Recovery Teams now. Those other were jobs I worked so I could get to where I'm at now," he said. "Don't work the farm or the foundry anymore. Just Teams." He took another, smaller bite of meat along with tomato. The combination tasted good.

She took another bite of her own sandwich. "It's dirty work, but the pay is good, I will admit. All I usually have to do is stand back and clear the way."

"You make it easier for the rest of us, that's for sure," said Pulse. "And yeah, good pay. Plus you don't have to be stuck in the Hometown all the time. Gives a chance to get out. Yeah, it's wasteland and destruction, but its different scenery."

"It is and I do wish that I had known what it was like before the Glitch," she said a bit wistfully. "But my parents said it was harder in a different way and something about racing rats. Sounds dreadful. We have to chase them away if the Shanty Towns get too bad as it is. Who would want to race them?"

"I was five years old when it happened, but I don't remember anything about it," he said. "But racing rats? Yeah, I have no idea who'd want to do that. Nasty critters. Though, I bet there's somebody in a Shanty Town somewhere that's still carrying on that old tradition." He paused a second. "Our parents always talked about all kinds of strange things, didn't they?"

"That, they do. I was six," Tremor said. "I just realized that I've been terribly rude. I've given you what I go by but not my name. Formally, I'm Celia Randalls."

"Eh, s'okay," he said. "My birth name is Ebenezer Winch. Folks that know that usually just call me 'Eb,' but there aren't too many folks that know that. Nice to meet you, Celia. Do you prefer that or can I keep calling you Tremor?"

She smiled. "You may call me Celia if it pleases you if I may call you Eb."

"Sure, you can call me Eb," he said. "If it pleases me...I don't think anyone's ever been concerned about what pleases me." He chuckled and continued, "But, it does please me to call you Celia. So Celia it is." He smiled.

Celia awarded him with a smile. "Much better and far less formal than our adopted personas. Wouldn't you agree, Eb?"

Eb nodded and swallowed a bite of tomato. "I'm so used to people calling me Pulse because that's all they know...kinda odd hearing 'Eb' used. But yeah, definitely less formal. Speaking of formal, you sound and eat like you've got some culture in your years."

She looked up at him over the edge of her sandwich and gave a faint smile. "I did if I wanted it or not," she said.

"One of those homes, then. Yeah, I worked with a few people in the foundries that went through that," said Eb. "Anyway, here we are moving forward." He took another bite and swallowed. "Not much to do but work, eat, and sleep," he said. "Unless you've got a side hustle or hobby to take your mind off of things. How about you?" Whether it was personal or not, Pulse mentally shrugged. Social interaction and all.

"I like to just get out and go for a walk into the unknown," Celia said. "The chances that are out there..." She trailed off. "Or used to be at any rate."

Eb sat back and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "A walk into the unknown...that sounds like a good place to find some discarded things. Might have to give it a shot sometime. But yeah, used to be a lot out there."

"Perhaps we could go for a walkabout sometime, Eb?" She suggested.

"Well," he said with a slight pause, "I don't usually get out much with other folks. I can count the number of people on one hand to be honest. But I've got enough fingers left that I reckon I could add another person to that circle with no problem." He smiled at the raven-haired woman next to him. "I think that sounds like a fine idea, Celia. Fine idea indeed."

 

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