The cabin stopped with a loud thump, and the mechanic frowned.
The new office building had appeared just over a year ago, replacing the crumbling skeleton of the old Police Ministry—burned in the military coup, looted in the civil war, and bombed in the invasion. The place had been as good as haunted, with its secret underground passages, rotting bodies in the cellars, and rat hordes feeding on God-knows-what.
Stepping into the shiny cabin, the mechanic poked around with a metal stick. An engineer by training, he had forgotten almost everything during the last decade, spent in the corrective labor camps. After the invasion, the prisoners were set free, but he had nowhere to return to and spent his days drifting between jobs.
Everything seemed in order, and he frowned again. The marble floor outside echoed with the click-clack of female heels, and he turned to the plastic wall. Strangers were often scared by his face, distorted and scarred after the torture.
The mechanic inhaled a sweet smell. A corner bakery, where before all the wars he had bought pastries for his girlfriend, had also emanated an aroma of sweet vanilla. The shop, his house, and the whole street were gone, and his girlfriend had disappeared along with her entire family just after the coup—when people vanished into thin air and nobody risked searching for them.
“Is the lift working?”
She spoke his language, and the mechanic turned around. She dressed like the occupants, but the bracelets on her well-cared-for hands and the valuable rings were local—blackened, beaten silver, brimming with opaque gemstones from the mountain mines.
She had dyed her neatly cut hair blonde, but her chestnut eyes remained the same—almond-shaped, languid, and serene. The last time he had kissed them was ten years ago. He had heard about people escaping via the sea, in rubber dinghies, starving on the way and drinking rainwater.
“Is it working?” she repeated, looking at him with a mix of disgust and pity. The mechanic was used to that.
“No,” he managed. “Please take another one.”
The hissing doors obscured her slender back, and he was alone again.
The new office building had appeared just over a year ago, replacing the crumbling skeleton of the old Police Ministry—burned in the military coup, looted in the civil war, and bombed in the invasion. The place had been as good as haunted, with its secret underground passages, rotting bodies in the cellars, and rat hordes feeding on God-knows-what.
Stepping into the shiny cabin, the mechanic poked around with a metal stick. An engineer by training, he had forgotten almost everything during the last decade, spent in the corrective labor camps. After the invasion, the prisoners were set free, but he had nowhere to return to and spent his days drifting between jobs.
Everything seemed in order, and he frowned again. The marble floor outside echoed with the click-clack of female heels, and he turned to the plastic wall. Strangers were often scared by his face, distorted and scarred after the torture.
The mechanic inhaled a sweet smell. A corner bakery, where before all the wars he had bought pastries for his girlfriend, had also emanated an aroma of sweet vanilla. The shop, his house, and the whole street were gone, and his girlfriend had disappeared along with her entire family just after the coup—when people vanished into thin air and nobody risked searching for them.
“Is the lift working?”
She spoke his language, and the mechanic turned around. She dressed like the occupants, but the bracelets on her well-cared-for hands and the valuable rings were local—blackened, beaten silver, brimming with opaque gemstones from the mountain mines.
She had dyed her neatly cut hair blonde, but her chestnut eyes remained the same—almond-shaped, languid, and serene. The last time he had kissed them was ten years ago. He had heard about people escaping via the sea, in rubber dinghies, starving on the way and drinking rainwater.
“Is it working?” she repeated, looking at him with a mix of disgust and pity. The mechanic was used to that.
“No,” he managed. “Please take another one.”
The hissing doors obscured her slender back, and he was alone again.
