The sun is in a territorial dispute. Many of the gang members remember such fights. Meetings in a secret underground room, hackers on standby to block broadcasting signals, and coated in lead deeper underground. They'd have maps drawn out of the city, occasionally printed if one of the organizations had stolen a printer from a nearby factory. They couldn't risk bringing electronics into safe rooms. Within the lower echelons, territorial disputes were in the streets. During the latest hours of the day, before the neon signs ignite the city, and when it was at its darkest. Nights were brighter than the day. In Neo Elysium, the sun would never be present for a territorial dispute.

Today, the sun is winning. Gale wonders if the sun's rays could be sticky. He would have to work up the courage to ask Faris later period.

"Still not used to it," Faris chuckles, Holding his hand over his eyes. An umbrella for the sun. "Ozone's real thin back home."

"Tan suits you well," Ronny, that's his name, says.

Faris Has never forgotten a name or face, but children are running, women are clucking, and chickens are gossiping. So, this is either Ronny or Ronny's twin brother. He can't remember the other name.

"You proper look like a farmer," Ronnie chuckles. "Not pale like the miners. Poor Mullins burns like a city boy."

"Ah, he's not so bad," Faris laughs. "He puts up with too much. Just this week, I asked him what ginger was if not a descriptor of Rhiannon Rose."

A lie, but the twins burst out laughing.

Yeah, Gale definitely can't ask what is likely a silly question now. He looks on at the groups of delinquents and farmers, unsure of where he can take his place.

~~~

The cane works well in the grass, which makes wandering easy for Harvey. No icy rain, damp ground, bone-crushing cold bothers him here. North Marcanty should pivot away from farming; they'd make as much as Hell's Haven on tourism. Perhaps they could have spa resorts, filtered glass ceilings to block out the harshest of the sun. Canopies and tunnels taking people off planes so they aren't forced into the sunlight. The planes that land in Underpass City have those.

Certainly though, if Harvey has thought of this plan, Faris is already executing it.

"Grey boy," a creaky voice calls, and Harvey knows before turning that it's calling him.

The woman on the porch has wrinkles. So do many of the farmers naturally, but Harvey has never seen a woman with so many. Deep dark alleys at the corners of her eyes, slicing her mouth, divvying up her forehead. People who can afford to get old can afford not to look it, and so Harvey couldn't guess how old she might be. Do they live to be over one hundred here? He's never known anyone to live over one hundred and twenty. They've tried everything to push it, everything including experimenting on MFZ residents. This woman may have cracked it.

"You look lost, grey boy."

Harvey smiles. She doesn't flinch like most people.

"I'm Harvey," he approaches her, struggling up the steps just so he can stick out his hand for her to shake it. "And you are?"

She chortles, which quickly becomes a cough. Her rocking chair tips forward so that she can shake his hand. The squeeze of her fist is shockingly firm.

"Holly Lee," she says. "Nobody's asked me my name in years."

"Well, I am nobody."

She chuckles at that, a wheeze comes through, "I'm old, grey boy. Not a fool."

The woman's hand isn't steady. She reaches forward, as if to point, then reclines again. She furrows her brow, wispy, coarse and white.

"You're dismissed," she waves him off. "I'll see you soon."

Harvey's brow creases before he can stop it. He backs off, leaning into the mid-day sun.

~~~

Rhiannon Rose wouldn't even burn Benji alive. As a death, it seems far too pleasant. Rhiannon Rose has no masters but the ending of all materials. She prays at the feet of the altar of combustion.

No, she'd shank Benji.

"Now Bobby," Katie puts a hand on her husband's shoulder. "We talked about this, remember? Just this morning, with Sue Ellen?"

Bobby just grunts.

Eurydice has her mouth clamped shut. If Benji hadn't expressly told her when they first arrived to speak to these freaks, she wouldn't have bothered telling the man her name. Now, this brute with fingers as thick as the animal intestines he's planning to feed everyone seems to think she and her 'Old Gods' are barbaric. Whatever the Hell that means.

"And they call us backwards," Bobby mumbles.

"Now Bobby-"

"They worship Zeus, Kate!"

Rhiannon Rose and Eurydice roll their eyes in sync. They both catch the gesture on the other, and quickly look away.

"Could just be a name, right girls?" Katie flashes them a smile. "Doesn't have to mean much, right?"

"Rhiannon Rose is the freakish name," Eurydice snaps. "Mine's perfectly normal."

And fairly common too. Rhiannon Rose is an odd name. In The Arch, Rhiannon Rose knew two Tituses. Cosmia is fairly common too, but Eurydices are almost as common as Orpheuses.

Rhiannon Rose's shoulders raise. A bead of sweat slips down her spine, "it's rose like the verb."

It isn't but it's harder to explain why the Armitages all have strange olden names. Her father's name is the same as Benjamin's, although he goes by Min, which is more acceptable. Her mother is called Dria, her sister Hinny, her brother Vik. Only Rhiannon Rose dares to be Rhiannon Rose fully always. If her parents don't like it, they should have broken out of their stubborn ways.

Eurydice scoffs, "it sounds like the flower."

Bobby flips one of the sausages and the smell of dill, peppercorn, and basil wafts out.

Rhiannon Rose leans in to catch a glimpse at the licking flames. They hunger more than her.

"And what a lovely flower," Katie says. "Holly Lee grows some in her garden. Red and beautiful, like your hair."

Even messy. Rhiannon Rose touches the strands. She loves her hair more than anything but heat. Next to her, Eurydice looks stupid with her messy bangs.

When she starts to comb them with her fingers, Eurydice rolls her eyes.

~~~

Gale lingers by Kae and Titus for a second, because despite his argument with Titus and Kae, it certainly seems better than being around an open flame with Eurydice and Rhiannon Rose. Titus quickly shakes his head though and Gale slips off.

"You know, you could get good money for this," Jeremiah taps his own wrist bone. He looks at Kae.

She sits on her hands. They've gone numb, slow. She was forcing herself to smile through the feeling, so sharp it almost became metallic on her tongue. At Jeremiah's address, she looks down. The charm bracelet peaks out just under the fabric of her dress.

"What could something like that get you?" Titus leans in slightly. The way he's seen his father move, with heavy gestures and reclining posture, feels inappropriate. The sun is too hot for Titus to bathe in. His Silver father has golden enemies.

Out of the corner of his eye, Titus can see Faris entertaining the twins. They laugh and chortle, and their eyes seem to gleam. Faris has hunched shoulders and lowered eyes. He should have been an actor. Maybe Faris is the son his father wouldn't have beaten.

"Reckon eighty dollars if you sell it right," Jeremiah looks at Kae's wide eyes. "I know, I'm a good sell. That's got to be, what... fifty PLUS-M credits?"

Titus has never heard anyone refer to the Adam Collective by its acronym. Neither has Kae, but Titus can't know for sure since she's perpetually shocked. Her dark hair makes her look even paler, but Titus suspects if she bleached her hair like his mother she would look like a ghoul.

"Well, purchasing power is different," Titus shrugs. He looks to Kae but she doesn't meet his eyes. "A proper loaf of bread would cost one-hundred-and-twenty-five credits. But here, it's... what do you spend on one?"

"No more than a dollar," Jeremiah grins. "And that's if you get one with fancy fruits and nuts. But you know George Rooney, beautiful fruit. Twice ways, if you get me. But grains's always cheap. Just ask the Greens. Or Benji. He wanted to pivot to grain, but the Lord wouldn't have it."

He is trying to listen, absolutely, but Jeremiah jiggled when he planted himself on the chair next to hers. The inter-farmer relations and negotiations aren't interesting anyway. She didn't do business. Not like Titus did. Her father had only just purchased a home in The Arch when she left. If she had grown up in that life, pinned to stiff black chairs in cold boardrooms, she might still have failed. People would sit next to her, people with things in their briefcases that they'd rest on the wooden flooring. Quiet note-taking, abandoned property.

She could reach into Jeremiah's pocket, but only with her charmed wrist.

"Well out there, moving around is cheap. 3 credits for the underground. It used to be two but you know how Lords are," Titus hopes his smile pushes into his cheeks and eyes.

Jeremiah laughs. He slaps his knee and something jingles. A quiet high-pitched groan slips out of Kae's mouth. She and Titus make eye contact.

"Boy, don't know what an underground is other than somewhere to store my grandmother's heirlooms," Jeremiah wipes a tear from his eye, "but I do know Lords everywhere. You ever met our Lord? He's a moron let me tell you."

And he does, never letting Titus get another word in to ask about North Marcadian cards. The whole time, he gestures so wide he jingles.

~~~

"Now now Benji, don't be modest," Felly Green gestures with a flick of her wrist. "You've already done two corn harvest, haven't you?"

"Just the one," he grits his teeth a bit.

His grip on his beer is tight. Cosmia watches at, growing sharper. She's never had a real one before. This is her first time sipping a real coffee too. It's bitter, pungent, and smooth on her tongue. It might soften her teeth.

"Really?" Mark Green asks. "Don't tell me your new labourers aren't pulling their weight."

He winks at Cosmia. She smiled with her mouth closed.

"How did you get the young workers grant?" Felly asks. "Was it based on need? You know, with both Emma and Mae, I've been fretting about you. It's time you got what you deserved."

"Oh, we all have been worried," Mark nods in agreement. His salt and pepper hair is cropped tightly and seems brighter in the sunlight. "George Rooney especially. He's such a kind young man."

Cosmia feels the flames licking her neck. For his part, Benji always looks pissed off. When trucks carrying manure drive by, there is no break in his expression. Cosmia isn't particularly practiced in the art of reading people, but she knows him. She knows Benji's twitching nose, his tight grip. Worse, she knows the way his mouth creases down. It happened when Rhiannon Rose collapsed, and when Titus iced his reset nose, and it happens whenever Gale shrinks as Eurydice enters a room.

And Nightingale doesn't feel sad. She feels collected and purposeful.

"Well, I should update him about Mae more often," he says. "He was awfully kind to her. I should tell her to write to him."

Felly's smile is plagiarized, "that you should."

"It's so unfortunate they couldn't come back here," Mark seems to agree. "Well, shouldn't be surprised with Mae out in the fisheries. The mines aren't too far, but you know how busy they keep you. Although, Emma never could miss a party."

"She's grown up a bit since you last saw her," Benji says.

Though Cosmia has not heard Emma's name before, she has heard mention of Mae. The boy, Dawson Green as it happens, said she was a Mullins. Cosmia's seen the family portrait, two little girls with brown hair lighter than his, so small even next to a little Benji. And Cosmia is good at puzzles, she loves wiring robots, and she misses her sister too. Her brothers as well, and Cosmia knows that ache.

She misses wanting things to be better. She misses the time she wanted them healthy, not wanting them back.

"Will she be back for Mae's wedding?" Felly asks. "Or is Mae not getting married?"

"If she does, might be awkward either way," Mark tuts. "Unless Benji's got someone on the horizon... well, it won't be the lack of grain that takes the farm."

Benji's freckles are barely visible now. His face is red.

Cosmia steps forward. He grabs her arm, holding her tightly. Her hands are shaking.

"Maybe he does have someone, Mark," Felly looks to her husband.

~~~

Gale retreats. He couldn't handle the Greens, and he doesn't want to be collateral when Cosmia inevitably explodes. Like Benji, Gale considers touching her arm and pulling her with him. Instead, he narrowly avoids the teens gathered by the shed. He dodges running children, and hides from aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins.

Hiding from family remind scale of home.

In the kitchen, he grabs a glass of water. Standing over the sink, he chugs it. The water slips down his chin.

He was starting to like it here. It's too hot.

"Oh, sorry."

Gale turns around. In the doorway, George Rooney tilts on his feet. Light leaks onto the table through the gap in the blinds, drizzled honey, and George is in shadow.

He steps into the light. One line slices through his face.

"We haven't, uh," George looks at his hands, wiping one on his pant leg. It looked clean before. He holds his hand out. "I'm George Rooney. The fruiter. I mean, I run the orchard. It's just up the road."

"I ate your peach," Gale says.

He feels suddenly aware of his cheeks. Much more hollow than the red, freckled-dusted ones on George.

And George has his eyebrows raised.

"I mean... fuck." Gale scratches his neck. "Sorry, I shouldn't... you dropped them off. After Benji sent Cosmia and Calath to... I'm sorry. I'm Gale Hatcher. I work in a factory, in packaging."

There's a smile on George's face. He starts to laugh, soft and steady, a hum in the empty house.

"Do you like it here?" George asks.

Gale looks around the room. He doesn't want to punch anything, "it's perfect."

George scrunches his nose. He takes a step closer to Gale and the sliver of sunlight on his face becomes a gash, "for some people, but it can be hot here. And crowded, too, really crowded."

Gale chuckles. This house, which according to Calath and Kae has half a dozen empty closets upstairs, is vast. The cornfield squeezed him, but they've replanted an for now the land feels barren. Today the sky is cloudless, but even when there are clouds you can see the blue sky. The colour is hard to describe. It is similar to his faded hair, only brighter, but not neon. It must have its own name.

"You don't know crowded until you're on an underground train at the end of a factory shift," Gale smiles.

So does George, and then the gash of light no longer matters. His smile enough is illuminating.

~~~

"Okay fine, one hundred then," Norbu covers his eyes and begins to count.

Each round, Norbu finds all of the children within three minutes. Calath Has been counting.

Beckett Is always caught first. He mostly just stands behind things thinner than him. His head isn't taller than the trellises, but he stood in the middle of the alley. Beckett was caught immediately, since Norbu had a perfect line of sight.

Calath will remember that when she runs from a man with a gun in nine weeks.

For now, she chases after a little girl with a gaze that never meets the other children's eyes. Calath doesn't ask her name. Rather, she helps her into the fruit crate in the back of George Rooney's truck. After ten minutes of searching, Norbu panicked and huffing, goes to Benji and everyone will gather and look for little JoJo Flemming, and it is Eurydice who finds her. In nine weeks, their game of hide and seek will be less successful.

~~~~~

Did voice-to-text fail me this time? Likely, but I'm just happy that I pushed this out of my body. Setting up some important little things, some plot shifting as well. Oof, I'm excited.

Any character who you'd like to have as your cellmate? Obviously not in the panopticon, but somewhere that you could talk haha.