The Layer Of Existence That The Worms Dug Up

Loretta pinched at Somen's sleeve, "So what now?" She asked him. The same question he needed answers to.

So what now?

He held her hand and guided her through the market, several pairs of curious eyes dawning on them. It is just the merchants. They want to sell us something. Somen thought. No, he begged the gods, hoping that was the case.

There isn't time to waste. A job. I need a job and a place to live.

Then a realization struck him. He needs to talk to the right people first. With his ability to regress, that wouldn't be a problem.

He shoved an elbow to her, making her recoil in response, and have her hush a, "What?"

He whispers, "I will try to meet some people. That means I will also need to regress. I need you to just stay put."

She gives him a light jab and asks, "About what?"

He huffs through the pain and grouches, "I need someone we can sell your trinkets to."

She throws him a heavier jab, "They are not trinkets!" She insists. 

Somen releases his hold on her hand and says, "I know! Now just be safe, alright?" 

"Fine."

I need to go to the tech part of town, Somen thought.

Somen walks up to a stall selling jewelry. Holding the shop was a big, hunky man with a shaved head and Buddhist beads adorning his neck.

"Aye sir! Would you fancy this bracelet? It's been enchanted by the winds of Soltrus. It will bring you mighty fine luck through your journey indeed." The vendor prattled. Somen knew these types of people. They were just like him--conmen.

Somen ignores his offer and asks, "Do you happen to know where the tech-savvy vendors are?"

The vendor clicked his tongue and pointed to the left and told him to go up at the end. Somen thanked him and moved to go where he was instructed.

He looked over the array of vendors organized in a straight line. This is going to take me years, he fretted. He tried looking for the most popular vendors, but they all had too many customers to even talk to. He was sure people like that would swat him away.

The remaining option was to try and talk to the ones that haven't gotten much notoriety. He just needed a place to settle in for now. The rest of the thoughts can come later.

In the farther end of the aisle was a shop selling about as much as they could, clocks, watches, sound systems, monitors, cameras..

They hadn't gained much attention yet due to the swarm of people flocking the early parts of the aisle.

The vendor was wearing a long draped cloth over their head and a digital mask made of lights to conceal their identity. This might have been a bad idea.

With a brutish voice, the clerk demanded, "What do you want?"

Startled, Somen had to finally face it. He started first with a question, "Would you be interested in an offer?"

The masked figure turns their head away to show their lack of interest.

Somen takes off his watch and dangles it in front of the figure. 

Click. Clack. Tick.

It was a watch that moved using an older style of technology. Using band loops moved by a small nudge of a wheel with a set timer. Every minute, the watch would tick and the number would be replaced by a number on the loop.

Somen hadn't really understood it all too well. He wasn't gifted with ingenuity. But what he knows is that its rare. Most technology work nowadays through the integration of magic. This was old fashioned clockwork, and him having this watch would be a sign that he had more in store.

He can see the clerk's interest peaking.

They leaned over the counter, and with a avoidant tone, they asked, "You.. Know who made it?" 

Somen smiled innocently, "If you can provide us a roof to sleep under, I'll introduce you to them." 

The clerk rested their back on their chair and with an aloof voice said, "Alright."

"Bazoonga."

****************

"Are you in a rush again?" The Handler jabbered, as if trying to get their words out before Somen goes and disappears. "She'll be there, you know. Standing at the crossroads."

"Every second matters.." Somen repeats to the Handler.

The Handler stood up and rushed to Somen's side, "You're immortal. Kick back and relax." 

Somen cupped the sand and hovered it over his stream. "You wouldn't get it."

Then he disappeared as fast as he arrived.

A small tinge ached in The Handler's heart. To think Somen would accuse her of not knowing him when she has watched him since his birth.

****************

Somen found himself back again at the crossroads where he had his first existence laid in the soil. This was what constituted as a fixed point. Right after their grand escape.

And he had realized. This is his second regression. It doesn't bring back clothes. He needs to go get new clothes.

****************

The Handler mused, "Back again so soon--" Then panic seeped into her voice, "Hey, calm down! At least eat with me!"

Quicker than last time, Somen waved goodbye once again, "See you later." 

"... Dang."

[Heaven pities The Handler for having such a troublesome child.]

She swiped the message and cried, "Shut up!"

***************

Alright. Back here again. Everything is ready. Somen thought. He gave Loretta her clothes and puffed his sleeves.

"Loretta, there is someone interested in your work--"

In a sudden instant, Loretta was inches away from his face, interrupting him with a quick, "Who?" 

Somen sighed and chuckled lightly to himself, "You'll meet them soon." and took her hand and guided her through the entrance gates once again.

Without skipping a beat, Somen had now been standing face-to-face again with the vendor. The only difference now is his ungodly smart sister is right beside him.

With the same orc-ish rashness, the clerk asked us who we were. I told her about my sister, and they got chatty real quick. I can't even narrate it. I don't remember what they said. Something about springlocks, nuts, bolts.. Screws! Yes, screws, I was the one who drilled them in.

After their conversation ended, the clerk still tried to keep up a cold and indifferent attitude, but it didn't really suit them. If I had to be honest, the way they were talking about it felt like I was watching my sister talking to her clone. I shiver at the thought. What would be my purpose then?

Anyhow, they lead us to a different part of the lower city. We were taught that the lower city is named Pildom. We had only known of the upper capital Maltrom because the tax collectors would always flaunt about the grace of their king of Maltrom, the Monarch. 

Pildom consists mainly of commoners and merchants trying to get a pass into the middle capital, where nobility resides, Seldom. Pildom is split into the market and the residency. The clerk let us use a spare room they have in a small 1 story house similar to our own, except it wasn't similar at all. The house was clean! Radiant! The air didn't smell like rat feces and human drool! In fact, it was NOTHING like our old house. We have soft surfaces like beds and pillows here! 

Ahem.

I can't be spending my time gloating about this. We committed a felony when we escaped the slums. The laws dictate that anyone who is born there, dies there. 

We will be found soon, by the ones who dig the dirt for worms. I cannot sleep. I cannot rest for now.

They soon will find out that we have escaped, and the fact that I have tased a guard.

They always said this name.. What was it.. What was it..

Someone knocks at the door and the clerk says they'll be there in a second. They knock again. I can't think. What was their name?

"Clean-up crew!" 

My blood freezes. That is the task force sent out by the upper capital to eliminate the weeds who try to suckle on society. Their calling card is a loud shout and a visage to mask their purpose.

The clean-up crew, The Gardeners.