Life On the Seaboard

Watching the sunrise was a simple luxury in these times, wasting day light wasn’t something everyone could do. Jezmin sat on their bed looking, through the blown-out wall of what used to be the office of a department manager at New York investment firm, now his apartment. He drank warm water from a mass produced “vintage” camping mug that had likely never left New York let alone been to a campsite. There was real serenity sitting there, listening to sea birds and the sound of waves lapping against the building.   Jezmin didn’t have to rush, though he couldn’t spend all morning watching the sun and listening to the sounds of the morning seaboard. As it was, those peaceful sounds would soon begin to be overwhelmed by the sounds of boat engines, low atmosphere transport shuttles, and if they were so unlucky, the sound of Union Mecha antigrav systems.   Jezmin worked up the will to swing their legs over the edge of the bed, his left prosthetic leg landing against the floor let out a twang as the pressure sensors recognized the surface and took a second to long to react. The motor started to whir as it initiated and the joint of the artificial knee, ankle, and the nearly one hundred points inside of the foot started to tick as they went through their standard startup routine. In unison, Jezmin stretched both sets of toes and rolled them in a rhythmic pattern, pinky toe to big toe, three times each. The twang of metal on wood, mirrored by the thud of slightly moist human flesh on wood. A slight buzzing noise started from the knee of the prosthetic, indicating, a hiccup in the start up. Jezmin slid open a panel on his lower thigh, just below where the prosthetic integrated with remainder of his natural leg. He grabbed a slightly protruding pin, pulled it out about a half inch before he pushed back in until it was flush with metal around it. Jezmin let the panel go, it slammed shut as freshly replaced spring pushed it back into the closed position. The leg let out a ding and played a tune like an old dish washer or washing machine when it was finished a cycle. They sat still for another minute. Nothing left to stop them from getting going except their own desire to call it a day already and go back to bed. That wasn’t an option for Jezmin though, he had it easier than some, but he still had quotas to hit this month and while he was way ahead of schedule good salvage was getting harder to come by.   Pushing the salt water-stained tarp that covered his bedroom doorway out of the way, he entered the large room that probably used to be a bull pen of junior investors fighting tooth and nail to secure new investments. Jezmin imagined the smell of salt on drying fish probably wasn’t all that different then the smell of sweat, desperation, and anxiety, which filled this space over a decade ago.   The offices that Jezmin lived in took up one corner of the formerly 43rd floor of high-rise office building. Now it was the third floor of the Alberta Junk Guilds Ocean Side Recovery Center. The AJG was one of the smaller junk guilds in this region of the seaboard and calling it the Ocean side recovery center implied they had other recovery centers in the city which they did not. Jezmin was one of three AJG member living in the building. The junk guilds in this part of the seaboard weren’t particularly territorial so despite its title there were members of several Junk guilds that worked out of the AJG OSRC, though most others didn’t live there.   Jezmin’s space was barren. Multiple barriers were in place to stop people from walking into other office without floors and since most of the walls were blown out there were layer and layers of tarp acting as semi-insulating walls. On a windy day the room became the epitome of white noise. The previously mentioned former bull pen was Jezmin’s living room and kitchen. The counter tops from the former lunchroom had been dragged into the middle of the room and a propane camping stove rested on one section. The sink had been integrated with a water pump and filtration system that was common on the seaboard. It was designed specifically for pulling up water from the ocean, pulling out the salt and cleaning the water. The drawers and cupboards had all of the original silverware and variety of dishes from the original office. The living room couch was bushed up against the back of the countertops. The couch and its matching chairs had come from the waiting area of a law firm a few floors up. The coffee table between them was a repurposed office desk with its legs cut off. Its drawers held a few mostly complete board games Jezmin had found and every fiction book they could get their hands on. The rest of the usable space was filled with meat hooks, on which salted fish of a variety of sizes were drying.   Jezmin quickly pulled a smaller fish out for breakfast. Throwing a grill on top of his stove he toasted some bread he’d picked up from the sky market earlier in the week. Breakfast was spars, mostly because Jezmin had a terribly hard time motivating themselves to actually get a few more of the resources they needed to eat better. They could afford better food storage, they could contribute to the rooftop gardens and get dividends, they were just satisfied with fish, bread and whatever meal the other Guildees went out for at the end of the day.   After breakfast Jezmin headed out his front door, a pair of heavy metal doors recovered from a school he was pretty sure. He got them to replace the original glass pane doors that mad breaking in about as hard as finding water these day. He headed down the stairs two floors to the gear room at sea level. He unlocked his locker and got into his scuba gear. He did one last full body stretch before he ducked into his exoframe. A humanoid size mobility and lifting assist developed from Mecha technology, his unit rested on his shoulders and had a heavy back unit but no legs. So, the weight was a lot until he got into the water. He made sure everything was reading correctly, his exo arms were properly mimicking his real arms. He stood up straight lifting the exoframe off the rack and leaving the entirety of its weight on them. Jezmin took a few strides and jumped into the open and flooded elevator shaft.   Jezmin just sank for several minutes. The building had been searched thoroughly in the last two years so Jezmin just chose a random floor to swim out onto and just give a quick look. Every once and a while something washed in, and it was good to check to the state of the infrastructure at the same time. They didn’t find anything. Jezmin headed out into the dark waters of the wasteland that was flooded New York City. He returned around 2:30 with a pretty average haul. He found several wardrobe and closets with a variety of decent condition clothing. Those were easy hauls offload and the clothes and fabric were useful everywhere, but he also managed to find the remnants of a mecha arm. Probably first or second generation. He had marked it and the AJG autonomous salvage sub would collect it some time in the evening.   Jezmin returned to the OSRC placing their recovered textiles in a side room to be processed later. Then they started the long trek up. Neither Jezmin nor the other members of the AJG had bothered to install any sort of elevator system into the building to speed up travel to the roof. Like most people in the city living closer to the mainland of Seaboard tended to do. There was always a general concern with raiding and piracy living on the edge of the seaboard, and even though it was considered suicide for pirates to make enemies of any Junk Guild, raids could still happen. It was even more likely to happened to such a small guild with so few members in an area. If the three AJG members went missing, it’d be days before anyone noticed and most would likely assume a salvage went bad. The people in the area would hold a candlelight ceremony and pray they had been overzealous and then go on with their lives. As such they didn’t invest in the location and remained and inconspicuous as possible. No lights on after dark a certainly know motors, generators and other valuable machinery running or exposed on the roof. Just a roof top garden that was managed locales as most uninhabited building rooves had been converted into.   After climbing 15 flights of stairs Jezmin reached the roof and sprawled out on the bench that had been made in between rows of garden boxes near the one bridge connecting the OSRC to the rest of the seaboard. As soon a few other guildees arrived they’d all head inboard to get something to eat.   A few hours went buy while Jezmin lay in the sun with their eye closed, dozing in and out of consciousness. He could hear the sound of gardeners coming across the bridge. They quickly checked the beds, and a feminine giggle was had by some one as they seemed to pass Jezmin. He didn’t open his eye’s. The gardeners left not long after and eventually Jezmin heard the heavy latch of the roof door opening and opened their eyes to look over. Amalee and Jordan had finally finished their salvage for the day, and they were followed behind by a quite and broody Guildee who had taken temporary residence on the 45th floor. They exchanged pleasantries and Jordan made clear he was craving Indian. The four of them started the long trek across the bridges to get to the inner Seaboard and the hustle and bustle. Halfway to their usual stopping point a pair of Union Mecha streaked along the water between the buildings. A couple of intact windows could be heard shattering and the smaller or less heavily uses rope bridges could be heard rattling and shaking and soon after the usual screaming could be heard from locals telling the union to get lost, in far less pleasant terms.   They did eventually make it to the markets and found an Indian restaurant they frequented. The Server, Zoya, ran up to the guildees pulling them to a section that had been recently added, the extension off the side of the building had been green lit as “safe”, and she sat them down Jordan a bit more so than the rest . It came with a great view; they could see clearly into the center of the New York seaboard. The junk guild head quarters, the former Chrysler building, was turning on its light as the sun began set. The green beacon signalling the presence of the Guild for all to see and be reminded that the Junk Guild was leading the charge to returning to a greener earth.   The Guildees’ food arrived soon after and they started to discuss the day's halls and news they’d heard throughout. Jezmin wasn’t particularly social, but many guildees would stop by local gathering spots, to get idea of specific things people were looking to trade more directly for. As such they tended to hear a lot of news and gossip.   Jordan had a bombshell. The Union had been fucked. Even spoken quietly, the several other patrons overheard and a rowdy cheer came from the surrounding tables. The details were still coming in mostly because the union was trying to keep it secret, but tonnes of ships had picked up on distress calls and there was multiple account of the Freedom being seen just drifting and several union repair barges spotted heading past the Boston Seaboard. Rumor was they had been closing in on another IASWW War Hero and even with all the might of their crown jewel the Freedom they'd been absolutely devastated. To top it all off, the belief was it was done by a really small group, otherwise the Union would be trying to use it as spin to make who ever they were after look really dangerous. Jezmin didn’t buy into that.   Everyone talked about Union propaganda like it was some big mind game, but from Jezmin perspective it was just proof that the union wasn’t a cohesive and unified as they wanted people to think. Jezmin couldn’t imagine a world where they would proudly say the Freedom was defeated by anyone. Every god in creation could appear and smite that ship and its captain and the highest members of the union would still say it won the fight. Jezmin knew all to well what that ship meant to the Union and how far they had gone to get it. Calling it the Freedom was the epitome of hypocrisy.   Jezmin just hoped even half of what Jordan had heard was true. The Union needed to be reminded they weren’t in charge of the whole damn planet, really, they weren’t in charge of any of it.   The four drank into the night and were joined by six more guildees as the night went on. Jezmin was getting ready call it a night when one last Guildee came in. The few remaining other patrons settled up as one of the only Orath still in the New York seaboard approached them. The others raised a glass cheering as they arrived, their slow gate making them almost seem in slow motion. They raised one long prosthetic arm to acknowledge the others before making eye contact with Jezmin. The two stepped inside and sat at the bar.   “Kreem” Jezmin spoke quietly.   “Jezmin.” Kreem, the Orath, responded.   “So are the rumors true?”   “Seems to be, top secret request came in around noon, Union identifier. An hour later one of our largest low orbit salvage rigs headed out to sea, south at top speed.”   “Who was it?”   “Well according to broadcast recording we have last from last night they had only one ‘war criminal’ at large but tonight broadcast left them out, just listed who they had custody of. Seems to me the Reaper collected a few more souls today, and the Union doesn’t want anyone to know about it.”   Now this sounded like the disorganized mess of a command structure Jezmin was used to. Anyone sane would have left the broadcast the same a usual and just deny whatever confrontation was being rumored was just a rumor but someone green lit that change and now the whole Union had to deal with it.   “The Junk Guild is prepping to run patrols. Big wigs were wondering if you want to get back in a mecha. They would cover what ever quota’s you have with the AJG and of course your local quotas would be covered and a nice round bonus for you. Someone with your experience you’d likely get to fly one of their brand-new machines. The great factories in the sky are sending new units to all the headquarter in the Atlantic Seaboards. Seems they’ve finally had enough of the Unions shenanigans.” Kreem said.   “Less flybys will be nice, but I’m not going to get in a mecha just to run some patrol’s and look intimidating. And union aren’t pirates so if they do start to fuck around in places no one want’s them, we won’t get the green light to engage. No, I’m good salvaging. I’ve got not trouble meeting my quota’s let someone with less salvaging skill in the pilot seat. Who knows you might have some hidden gems hanging around headquarters.”   Kreem nodded at them before wondering over to join the other guildees, his approach met with cheers and a few hugs.   Jezmin started to head home. As they were crossing the final bridge their smart device pinged. Jezmin checked it, they had received a “text” from the sub, the mecha arm had been delivered. Jezmin picked up their pace. Once inside he slid down a fireman’s pole that had been installed in one of the elevator shafts. Reaching the first floor relatively quickly he headed straight to the large open room they used as a loading bay for boats and the sub. The arm was in rough shape. Jezmin went to work separating the arm at the elbow and wrist to make it more manageable. Grabbing a trolly with a powered winch on it he started letting out cable. After securing the cable to the wrist he slowly dragged most of it onto the trolly before slowly pulling the trolly out of the loading bay and down a long hall and then into a wall of plastic sheets, eventually reaching a larger room located under his apartment. He did the same with the next two pieces.   Jezmin had a focused look in their eye’s as they rolled down thick black tarps around the edge of the room leaving him momentarily in total darkness. Jezmin flipped a breaker and light flooded the space. A generator kicked and several spotlights pointed at the ceiling lit up a torso of a mecha frame hanging through a hole in the ceiling. Jezmin fired up a blow torch and started cutting open the fresh arm.   Watching the sunrise was a simple luxury in these times, wasting day light wasn’t something everyone could do. Jezmin sat on the edge of floor feet hanging into the water looking out the sky lit up as dropped pods descended from one of the junk guild low orbit factories. He splashed water on his oil and grease covered face. There was real serenity sitting their listening to sea birds and the sound of waves lapping against the building getting one step closer to true freedom again.