The JobMature

But that's history. In the thirty years since, we've settled into colonies and communes, mostly underground. People get along as best they can, hydroponic gardens and methane plants keep people fed and electricity flowing but resources are scarce. There is one city left on the surface, World's End. No one seems to remember which city it was before the War, but it doesn't really matter anymore. Whatever it was before, now World's End is the only human settlement that can still see the sky, bruised and ugly as it is. She's my city, my skeletal, husk of a city, and I love her.
    I'm a Fixer, which is to say I fix things and solve problems, which is to say I help people, mostly by killing other people for money. I've been doing this for a couple years, I don't know maybe a decade. Keeping track of time still hasn't returned to priority status.
    My current assignment, which had managed to pull me all the way to the top of my smoking heap of a world, was a little unusual. There were no people to track down and deliver interesting punishments to, no missing property or interest to collect. The assignment was, of all things, a research job. A scavenger hunt. In all likelihood, a wild goose chase. My client had it in their head that there was something in the Ruins that could fight the invaders if they came back, or fix the sky or unite the tribes of Israel or some high-minded, idealistic bullshit like that. The call had gone out to all the people like me, and all the people I hunt, and all the people with nothing but time on their hands that there was Big Money to be had in return for any items left behind by those polyhedral monsters from the War.
     The job was almost certainly bogus. It reeked of scam. But I was curious as to what the client had in mind, and where the hook was. So I crawled out of the warren of cramped, sweaty streets and climbed the Babel to see the unusual activity of people hastily packing up gear and fleeing out towards the ruins.
    There’s no rush, let someone else do all the hard work if they feel like breaking their back for this. It wouldn’t be the first time the only legwork on my part was to the client’s door. Besides, its not like the end of the world again.

The End

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