1 Tangled Reality

The balcony overlooks a strange, murky river. Manmade, you could say, since it was clogged sewers, years of acid rain, and broken pipes that caused this basement-level alleyway to flood. A stench floats up from it, the same stench that has long since seeped into the bones of my home.

I swing my leg over the too-short railing, grabbing a rope fastened to it in my left hand. The rope supports me as I climb down five stories to a balcony just above the water. The door is cracked open, so I slip inside without bothering to knock. It's not like I ever knock here.

The same acidic smell has permeated this apartment as has mine, but it's largely masked by the smell of coffee. I step around a large wooden barrel marked with a string of numbers, craning my neck around a larger stack of four more of them.

"Hey, Ledran," I greet the mop of hair sticking out from behind barrel 408553219.

"Hey, Kena," the hair responds, bobbing a bit. Then it's moving upwards, and there's a face beneath it. Ledran is sixteen years old, but his face reflects the hardships of life, making him seem much older. He acts older too. These probably both come from the fact that he took over his parent's business when they abandoned him at age twelve.

The impromptu coffee bean supplier would probably have been illegal at one point, back when we actually had a government. Right now, though, he's got a monopoly on the product in this neighborhood, and kudos to him for it. He picks the stuff from some old greenhouse laboratory on the other side of town. That's why he has a monopoly—he's one of the few people in the area with a working form of transportation.

His business is why I'm here, mostly. I mean, he's not bad company either, but I do really need what he's selling.

"The normal 2 cups?" he asks, and I nod. I'm a regular customer. I buy in small quantities because that's all I can afford, but I come back every day for more.

He spoons two cups of ground coffee beans into a makeshift pouch that I hold out to him. "Two cups is a lot for a day, you know. For just you and your aunt."

He's said it before, and I know it's true. The truth is, I don't drink the coffee; Ledran knows that. Only my aunt drinks it. She makes it really strong and really thick, and it ends up being about 8 cups a day, which of course is too much.

"You can overdose on caffeine," he warns me when I don't respond.

I sigh. "I know, Ledran, but you've seen my aunt…."

"Addicted."

"Yeah, and how am I supposed to get her off the stuff?"

Ledran runs a hand through his dark, messy hair. "Smaller doses every day? Here, I'll take a bit out, and I'll lower the price even. And then she'll slowly get less dependent, over time."

"You're sure it works like that?"

"Nope. But it's worth a shot."

I shoot him a look, the look he always gets from me when he acts like an expert on subjects he knows nothing about. He raises his eyebrows at me and folds his arms.

"Listen, K, I'd be losing money on this. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't want to help."

That's true. So I pay for the lesser amount of coffee, deciding to trust his logic. I don't leave right away, though. I need some sensible conversation before I head back home.

We talk for a bit, mostly about the families in our building. Nobody here pays rent here anymore. We think the rich owners hurried away from the city after it went downhill, and they forgot about us. So all the rooms are filled with families, big and small, who are grateful for a chance at some free housing.

The conversation dies eventually, so I grasp around for another topic. One pops into my head. It's actually been on my mind a lot recently, so I can't believe I haven't brought it up to Ledran yet.

"Have you heard about the rallies?" I ask him, watching his face for a reaction.

"Who hasn't?"

I shrug. I haven't been out much recently, except to work. You don't hear much news working in a small clothing and textiles shop, working an old loom. I only know about the rallies because I saw one on my way home and asked my neighbor, Cathber, about it.

"Mobs are magnets," she told me. "It isn't like most of them know what it is they're asking for. We haven't had government for a long time now, and I don't know how they think they're gonna come in and form one. The unoffs do a fine job, in my opinion."

The unoffs, short for unofficial police, are pretty good at what they do. It's one of the better paying jobs around, so they aren't short on members. And the higher-ups of the organization are pretty strict, too, so they do keep the peace and maintain order. Only….

I decide to voice my thoughts to Ledran. "The unoffs are great and all, but they can only do so much. We don't have set laws. Think about all the things people can get away with… the things people do get away with." Because I'll be the first to admit that our city has an unfortunately large dark side.

Ledran nods. "I've been thinking about that too, and I've also flipped it around in my head. The leaders of the unoffs could get power hungry and virtually become the government. It could become an impromptu tyranny, morphing even into a broken dictatorship."

Before the city's fall, we had what Cathber calls a democracy. She described it as "the rule of the people," where everyone has a voice. Apparently it worked pretty well, although it's sort of hard to understand how it all balanced out.

Then came the fall of our city. Our city was built on, of, and around néa. I've never seen néa in action myself, since the city fell long before I was born, but I've head that néa was the lifeforce of our city, the energy holding it together. People could manipulate it, each in their own ways. Machines used it to run on a whole other level. Electricity fed of néa, and it was used to build and preserve the entire city. Even the cleaning of the city was done by néa.

Then, the néa just… stopped.

Everything fell apart. With little back-up for electricity, there hasn't been power since. Much of the transportation and machines from that time are useless. Many buildings began to crumble, since they were built to be upheld by néa. No one had ever thought that the néa would ever not be there, but they were wrong.

Most of the rich or even middle-class families began to move away from our city, traveling far beyond the mountains to the east. Some, like my great-grandparents, couldn't afford to up and move, though. So they stayed for what was left of the city. It was a bit of a free-for-all for a while, with people claiming what was left of abandoned homes and shops as their own. Eventually, though, all the pieces fell into place.

We call the city the Jungle now, which is ironic, since no living thing would in their right mind come to this disgusting, toxic place. Even those of us already here have to be half-crazy to survive. Maybe we do need a government.

"Somebody's bound to take over eventually, now that it's all calmed down since the city's fall," I point out.

"True. Multiple people or groups will probably try," Ledran replied.

"Well, I think that we should have a say in who the leader is. I don't want some lunatic leading us," I say.

Ledran grins at this. "So that rules you out, then, doesn't it?'

"No more than it rules you out, coffee boy."

He punches me playfully on my shoulder, and I reach up on tippy toe to rustle his hair out of place. We've been friends for a long time now, probably since we were toddlers. I was there for him when his parents died, just like he was there for me when my aunt's mental health began going downhill. Business is only half of our relationship—friendship is the other.

"I think we can both agree that Tayrosa is the best candidate," he says, expression serious, but eyes shining with hidden laughter.

Tayrosa is the vivacious five-year-old who lives on the third story with her eternally exhausted parents. If she were in charge, we'd probably all be attending mandatory dance parties at the city hall every other day.

"I'd sponsor that campaign," I say with a laugh.

"Right, you'd sponsor and offer up all of your…. What? Textiles and clothing?"

"Mhm, and then Tayrosa and I will quilt our way to eternal glory."

Ledran chuckles. His eyes meet mine, and he holds them there for awhile. Then suddenly there's a strange panic inside of me, and I'm wondering who will look away first, and why I find it so hard to look away, and why somehow I need to look away. I'm tensing up, but I force myself to stand.

"I should probably go. You know, get ready for work," I say. It's a dumb excuse; he knows I work an evening to night shift. The owners of the factory rotate out workers so the looms will be working at all times of the day. But I don't wait for a response, but instead turn on my heel and heading towards the balcony.

I can hear Ledran sighing as I begin to scale the wall.

What just happened?

"Kena? Kena?"

My aunt stumbles out to the balcony, hand on her forehead, looking pale and dazed. I'm a bit late with the coffee, so this isn't unexpected. I'm a bit distracted at the moment, though.

"Morning, Aunt Bayilka," I say automatically, my mind still on what just happened.

"Kena, I need my coffee," she says, her words slurring together as she slumps against the railing.

Unfortunately, she did, so I did my best to force Ledran out of my mind for the time being as I made the first pot for her. She sighs as she takes the first slurp, not even waiting for it to cool down. I wince. That must have burned her throat.

And then my mind drifts back to Ledran. I have known him since we were kids. When he had parents, when Aunt Bayilka wasn't a coffee addict… we knew each other then. I used to think of him as my brother, and then as my best friend. But does he think of me as something more? Do I think of him as something more?

It's true that he's handsome, with his dark, wild hair and the muscles he's built up moving coffee barrels over the years. He's smart, too, smart enough to run his own business. And it's fun to joke around with him. And when his deep brown eyes were locked on mine….

"Kena, get me another cup, won't you?"

I'm snapped back to reality, and looking back at my fantasies I wonder what's happened. When did I start thinking of Ledran this way?

It's a strange, foreign concept to me. This has never been part of the life I've lived. I've only ever tried to hang on, to stay alive. I've worked hard to get a job, to keep that job, and to live off my meager salary. Romance isn't on the agenda for me.

Or, romance wasn't on the agenda for me.