Men's Second Style

It was a hard life, living in the Wastelands. No one denied that. In fact, it was one of the hardest lives one could be born to. It was even harder living on the edge of the Great Fissure. No one quite believed that, unless they themselves had been born to it. Or exiled there.

Hard lives breed hard people. The people of Gravatia, having been bred and born to hard lives, were among the hardest people one might ever hope (or hope not) to encounter. Their town, if such it could be called, straggled along the rim of the Great Fissure, its ramshackle buildings of wood and stone perched precariously bare feet from the edge, and in some cases seeming to spill over into the gorge on tenuous, crumbling stiltwork.

Koji was not particularly happy to be in Gravatia. Not that he would ever mention that to the Overseer; no, indeed not. He was always pleased, speaking officially, to do his official duty, and to perform any additional tasks that were deemed properly his to complete. By “pleased”, it was well known that he was bound by sworn obligation of indenture; that his “official duty” was to enforce the laws of the Prefecture, without question; and that “additional tasks” could be almost anything, depending only and entirely on the whim and pleasure of the Overseer.

Although Koji’s nominal purpose in Gravatia was indeed one of law enforcement, he suspected that there was an element of whim-indulgence as well. The Overseer was not one to be overly communicative, but he had been deep in his cups when he had received Koji to give him his despatch orders, and his words had flowed near as freely as the wine. It came down to this: there was insubordination in Gravatia. If left unchecked, it would not be long before insubordination simmered into insurrection, and insurrection boiled over into open rebellion.

But wherein lay the whim? For Koji was certain the Overseer’s plans were not exactly and only what they appeared to be. There were too many machinations, too many machinations, and far too much double-agent mischief for Koji’s taste. In his experience and considered opinion, simpler was always better. He was not the Overseer, and not a political genius, but he knew how people worked, and he knew what he saw. And what he saw seemed clear: he had been sent not to suppress the incipient rebellion in Gravatia, but to encourage it. But why? The ultimate result could be nothing short of anarchy, and anarchy had a way of spreading. It would do so without a doubt, even from this far-flung, almost-forgotten corner of the Protectorate.

Koji wondered, had he been tricked? Was he being manipulated? It seemed not at all unlikely. But to what end? Why would the Overseer choose to foment rebellion, even so far from the Center? What was there to gain? It seemed there was a larger picture than Koji could see from his own point of vantage. This did not surprise him, of course, and yet it bothered him—not that it was true, but that it seemed to matter so very greatly.

Well, he had a trick or two up his own sleeve. He was quite certain that the Overseer did not know of, or at least had put from his mind as of no import, the Visionary who had been exiled to Gravatia some half-dozen moons past. Koji had his own special “sight”, not a gift from his mother or his father’s mother, but a bio-technological enhancement. But in this matter, he knew that he needed something more. He would find and consult the Visionary—no doubt payment would be required—and learn what could be discerned of the truth. Unfortunately the circumstances were complex, and he knew that there might well be too many threads of alternate possibility to settle on any one truth. He would have to do his best with what he found.

Koji sighed as he looked out over the Fissure from the edge of town. The sluggish river moved slowly, far below, but his thoughts raced like heat lighting. The purple nebulae in his eyes swirled as the bio-linked circuitry processed incoming sensor data and fed impossible volumes of collated information into his brain, just below the level of conscious thought. Instantly, without even thinking, he knew where to find the Visionary, so that would be his first stop. As the information ebbed and flowed, new connections formed, relationships were identified, and probabilities calculated and predicted themselves in ever-refining spheres of accuracy. He now had what he was sure was a fairly complete picture of the socio-political structure in Gravatia, which meant he was a good way toward understanding the power dynamics. Hopefully the Visionary would be able to help him refine and perfect his comprehension. Even the smallest bit of additional insight could make a world of difference.

He raised his staff and held it at one angle, then another, trying to find a more stable signal relay from the intel satellites. Though they were fabulous tech indeed, his eyes were far less useful without the constant flow of new data. Koji sighed again. There was no reason for the poor signal quality, even this far out from the Center. Was the Overseer intentionally trying to keep certain information from him? Again, he knew without even thinking: the probability was appproximately 0.85. This did not make him angry, but it annoyed him, and he did not like to be annoyed, for it disrupted his calm.

Koji took a deep breath, composed his conscious mind, and set out to find the Visionary’s shack, at the far end of the Fissure. The Overseer would yet regret that he had attempted to turn Koji into a pawn in his selfish game of power. Koji would not be played for a fool.

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NeverLand 2049 Boy outfit by June Dion, Bare Rose
The set includes base garments in a variety of colors and styles; flexi shredded cape, scarf, and netting; sculpted body and leg armor, goggles, and supply belts; all highly detailed.
Event Horizon eyes by Kehl Razor, Razorblade Jacket
“MUCA” hairstyle by Cheerno Destiny, CheerNo
Staff of Gravatia by Perefim Cao, OMFG

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Photographed on location at The Great Fissure (The Great Fissure 134, 107, 69).