Zov’ha watched as Sinovan disappeared into the crowd. The late noon sunlight glinted on the glossy strip of his hood as he hobbled away in a hurry to get the mysterious crystals to the KOE. 

Feeling an intense sense of loneliness, Zov’ha fought back the urge to call out to him to make him stay. She had been alone for so many years in the wilderness, and yet she felt out of place when Sinovan was suddenly not around. 

It’s this city! It seemed strange that one could feel so lonesome in a city so full of people.  

Zov’ha kneeled to hug Efiros, and then they made their way apprehensively into the neon-lit building, which served as an office for the Rover’s Guild. The moment they stepped in, they were greeted with the waft of cool breeze from the air-conditioning. 

A large, circular room occupied the whole floor, which was illuminated by ample sunlight flooding in through sizable windows, and a glass ceiling. The central lobby was furnished with wooden tables and leather couches, where guild members sat chatting idly. 

Contrary to its shoddy outdoors, the interiors were decorated with intricately designed tapestry that adorned the walls, and furnished with rich fur carpets. The backyard, which was visible through the windows, had a well kept garden with arcing trellises.

Butler-bots hovered here and there, carrying on their trays glasses of dark amber-coloured cloudy ale that filled the room with a heady, citrusy fragrance. 

Directly across, under a mezzanine balcony, what Zov’ha assumed, was the reception. A curved desk with a glass separator, and the Rover’s Guild pink-and-orange flags fluttering above; it had to be the welcome centre. Behind the desk was a large egg-shaped glass apparatus with metal scaffolding. Approaching the reception, Zov’ha observed something swirling within the strange object. 

Then, a light blinked on from inside and the glass frames parted, and out of it emerged a membranous sac filled with a transparent fluid, held to the metal frame by gelatinous tendrils. Floating within the sac was a young girl, whose torso and limbs were stunted and underdeveloped, but whose face and head were that of a mature woman. 

She wore a bodysuit that covered every inch of her body except her head. There was a transparent mask attached to her nose and mouth — some kind of organic breathing apparatus, which had several cords and veins connecting to the back. Her golden hair swirled in the liquid, shining wildly in the sunlight. Dark eyes gazing curiously at her guest, she cocked her head and smiled. 

‘G’day, travs!’ came her voice, which sounded slightly muffled as it emanated from an amplifier somewhere on the metal framework. When Zov’ha only stared back in wonderment, the woman continued very animatedly, ‘Wha’? Have’n ya seen a Xalian b’fore?’

Xalians, the fourth sub-species of humans. They were technically not a species, since any Calcar, Poban or Mechanov, or a mix of either, could be born tragically underdeveloped, which would then entail the excruciating process of converting the infant into a Xalian — a being that spends the rest of its life within an egg-shaped portable incubator.    

‘Ah mean,’ the Xalian went on, her golden brows knotted and colourless lips taut. ‘Yeah, there are just a handf’l of us… but that does’n mean ya have ta stare! That’s jus’ plain rude! I’m twen’y-five years ol’, ya know?’

‘Are you… Thalina?’ Zov’ha managed, slightly embarrassed as some of the other patrons began looking their way. 

‘Well, ‘course I am,’ cried the Xalian, in a petulant tone of voice. ‘And who might ya be?’ 

‘Zovhara Ashfrost,’ Zov’ha muttered hurriedly. ‘I’m from… I’m new to Aeroz… and so is Efiros.’ 

Thalina’s mood changed back almost instantly, ‘Well then, we’ll get ya signed up ‘n ready for your participash’n in Aeroz’s fin’st guild! Now, do ya have a wristban’?’ Zov’ha raised her left wrist to show the wristband that Sinovan had gifted her, though she had no idea how to use it. ‘Goo-ood, that’s the mos’ import’nt gear. Keep that wid’ja at all times. Ya pay and get paid with that and it’s whatcha use to chat with your frien’s, search city-net, yarah, yarah, yarah… Get me so far?’

‘I think so…’ Zov’ha nodded in agreement with the irascible Xalian even though most of what was being said went over her head. 

‘Excellen’,’ squeaked the Xalian. ‘Now let’s get a chip hooked up! Ya should be good ta start takin’ up jobs from the local regist’r. We’ll then sign up your bear-frien’ and any other possesh’ns you have.’ 

Jobs? Zov’ha was reluctant. But if that’s what it took to stay in Aeroz long enough to make sure Sinovan was alright, and explore the city of course, she would have to follow the rules. ‘What kind of jobs can I do?’ 

‘Uhh mostly odd ones. Helpin’ the aged, social welfare, yarah, yarah, yarah… but ya might come across some in’erestin’ ones that take ya on adventures, so hold on to ya pan’ies!’  

‘The chip,’ Zov’ha crossed her hands and watched as the Xalian busied herself with a screen on the desk. ‘Does it hurt?’ 

‘Wha’? The implan’? Ya won’ feel a thing!’ 

The chest implant was as painless as the Xalian had promised. All Zov’ha had to do was lie down and wait for a robot with an atrociously long needle to punch a transdermal chip on the left side of her chest, just below her shoulder. 

She examined the shiny coin-sized disk in the changing room’s mirror. It had three slits — memory banks, the Hyperprothetist had said, each holding a chip that recorded different types of information about herself. 

It itched a little. She had gone through worse while living in the wilderness — allergies, frostbite, eczema; this was nothing. But it was unnatural. Part of her wanted to rip it out and then abscond into the forests of Morowyth. 

Curling her hands to fists, she took a deep breath and got dressed. 

The heart scan was as painless as the robotic surgery. The Hyperprosthetist asked her very little, in accordance with Aerozan laws, dodging anything related to mechanised body parts, bone deformities or other irregularities — mostly only about sicknesses that could spread and cause a pandemic. 

She was cleared.   

Zov’ha and Efiros then spent the rest of the day going through the formalities of becoming official visitors of Aeroz. She looked through the local register on her wristband, which Thalina taught her to use, and picked up some odd jobs to do for the rest of the week, which would pay for her food and rent at the inn. 

Now all she had to do was make her way towards the city centre, hoping to get a view of the magnificent ports before it became dark… and make sure Sinovan was alright.  

Glad to be out in the open again, she led Efiros out of the alley and onto the road. Conscious of the itchy implant, she distracted herself by observing the nuances of the city. She passed by a couple of ligneous cottages, toward a less congested street. 

A couple took photographs of themselves next to a fountain. Both women were Calcars — baring their yellowed teeth, they hugged each other, carefully avoiding the spines jutting out of their dark red skin. 

A beggar sat huddled against a postered wall, hands cupped, head bowed. Zov’ha held Efy by the collar so he wouldn’t go sniffing around the poor man. A barber shop, a butchery, massage parlours, a shady mechanical body parts store (secondhand); she passed them all until she came across a lane that opened up into the magnificent view of the city centre. 

Golden glass towers embraced the horizon; oddly shaped, but perfectly constructed. Some were so tall they hid amongst the clouds, shying away from the light of the setting sun. Shadowed in purple and grey were smaller skyscrapers behind the magnanimous towers, their neon signs lighting up the sky like candles on a mantlepiece. The meritorious cityscape was a wonder to behold, even to those who had lived all their lives in Aeroz. 

The perpendicular street that stretched in front of Zov’ha from north to south ran alongside tracks that were meant for the city’s internal railway system. Crossing over to the other side, she came to a stop at the bannister that overlooked the tracks. Leaning over, she breathed in the urban air that she was unaccustomed to. 

This all seems so much better than… A view of another city flashed for a moment in her mind. A city covered in snow, brightly lit but haphazardly constructed. Broken buildings, twisted iron rods, broken trash cans; and people dressed in dark clothing wearing helmets with glowing faces… she felt a chill run down her spine. 

She could not recall any more of it… her mind was empty. But the memory left her with a sense of longing that she could not explain. 

Going east, by the walkway over the tracks, would take them to the ports. She wanted to see the sea — a sight she had been robbed of living all her life in the mountains. And ships!  

Just as she detached herself from the bannister to head towards the walkway, there was a loud explosion... The ground shook and her gait faltered. She tried to regain her balance, but a shockwave knocked her off her feet. 

Efiros scampered towards her, whimpering and pawing her face. 

A few minutes of deafness followed as she attempted to straighten up. An intense anguish bubbled up inside her, and she felt her body altering; a similar feeling when she had summoned frost blades and ice shields while fending off the raiders. 

No, no, no… not now! Not here!

Thankfully the sensation ceased, and after a few minutes, when everything stood still, she pushed herself up and embraced Efiros. 

The befuddled citizens on the road started to scream and scatter. Scurrying for cover like frightened sheep, they rushed for safe zones like buildings and under bridges. The chaos turned into a stampede. Shocked by the incident, people were running helter-skelter… they were running anywhere except north, from where a plume of smoke could be seen rising. 

Sinovan!