Overwrought, fine detail engineer now sifter extraordinaire... beautiful (if one can look past the metal abominations) brilliant.. manic depressive. What more could you want?
Purchased: age 12
Stats: 6ft, 285lbs, blonde, blue eye, no moles or tattoos, brasswork stamped GW C619
Retro: Fine tool arm(L)- refit at age 16, micro/macro vision(L), Rail adaptation – half appendage(L&R) – standard sterilization
Evaluation: Accuracy 8/ Completion 8/ Timeliness 7/ Comments: Belligerent, moody, smart mouthed, inappropriate humor, highly skilled and produces excellent repairs and products when motivated
Standard Contract: 10 yrs/ Complete
Wages: paid in full
Store Credit/living expenses: 4800 royals – OVER DUE
Post to retrievers… Return regardless of condition to Gaunt Whistle for finders fee
Twelve is a shitty age to sell your kid. Okay. Any age is a shitty age to sell your kid, but hey, it is how the world works. I should have been sold to the sex industry, hell I could still make a good living at it if I wanted to… it takes all kinds of pervs, and some guys get off on the brass… but… long legs, small waist, pretty face and cascades of warm tarnished brass colored hair don’t cancel out the backlash and noise from the two voices in my head. Once my nature was discovered I was as good as poxed to all the Houses in the area.
It’s not my fault that there is war being waged inside my head. I didn’t invite Suicide Sue in, and I most certainly did not ask Crazy Manic Happy Ass to move in either… but… it would seem that my thoughts, with little nudging from me swing back and forth between these two extremes. It only takes a few days with me, usually, to realize I’m not right in the head. It was easy with the railmen. They didn’t care. Just kicked my ass around until I learned to cope with whomever was showing their ugly faces on any given day, during any given hour. It didn’t take long for me to learn that they wanted the job done, on time and accurately. So long as I didn’t let the moods take over the working arm, I was good. Didn’t really matter what my mouth was spouting, or that my real eye could no longer see because of tears.
It is not so easy out here. I probably should have signed on for another ten years, but, the debt I was accruing was never going to get paid. It is still not going to get paid, but, at least it isn’t going to get any bigger.
Now to find a way to make a name for myself. Sifting is well and good and keeps me mostly unmolested by the general populace that wants nothing to do with this metal, mental monstrosity, but it is unsatisfying and lonely to say the least… and I am never going to get rich like this… and unless I find something extraordinary out there in the barrens, I am never going to do a damned thing about the world today. Kids should not be sold. People should not be made into monstrosities. CHILDREN should not be forced to watch as their bodies are altered and geared and customized. How I’m going to fix the problems, I don’t know. But. I do know I will have to be a force to be reckoned with if I want people to acknowledge that I exist, acknowledge that I have a voice, acknowledge that things are wrong as they stand and that we can do something about it.