Flock

Chapter 1: Kryifem

"We don't speak of the Before. Not if we can help it. It was only because of our drive to rule the earth that we became greedy, selfish, hungry-for-more creatures—and so we took what we wanted, and if it wasn't there to freely take we created it and sold it for more. We don't create anymore, not if we can help it. Creation only serves to foster competition. We do not fool ourselves by thinking we can compete with the greater beings that reside here beside us," Mayor Oswald nodded towards our esteemed guests. "All that is needed, is provided by their generous hearts."

He was sweating profusely, the underarms of his shirt wet down to the waistband of his too-tight pants. His swollen belly jiggled with each magnificent gesture of our unworthiness and I had to physically suppress a mocking cackle. If it weren't for the visiting party of Kryjia, I would have booed him, like I normally do during our general meetings. His sausage-like fingers wiggled in the direction of the Kryjia, as he praised the leaders of our governing capital, but his eyes found mine.

He stared in warning. I knew what the Kryjia were capable of. I knew how dispensable we were to them individually. So, I nodded once and disappeared into the crowd. My dirty overalls clinked as I walked, little metal stones jingling in my pockets. We weren't supposed to take anything from the mines. Unless we were removing dirt, but I couldn't help it.

These metals were of value to the Kryjia and I wanted to know why. Science or any form of intellectual discovery was forbidden and without proper approval, even touching these little metal shards could be punishable by death. If you could even hold the metal long enough. That's why I needed to know.

I was the only human I knew who could freely touch the Kryifem without serious injury.

It wasn't soft like gold, but it wasn't stiff and hard like the steel tools we were provided. It was bitter cold no matter what as if it were actually generating the cold. I had been experimenting at night with my candle. A candle that was direly low, and with rations still a week away. But, even held over the flames the Kryifem never warmed.

If the metal was actually generating the cold temperatures it could be why so many of the Kryjia carried it around with them. They preferred the colder climates, which at least encouraged most of them to stay away from us for the most part. The only cold parts of our city were the mines; almost as bitter cold as the Kryifem gently knocking about in my pocket.

I slipped my hand in to rest amongst the cold stones. Holding them in place as I passed security check-points on my way back to my tiny flat. A room really, with a moth-eaten mattress on the floor, a few ratty blankets and my rations hidden beneath a floorboard near the never-used radiator.

I had saved a particularly large piece of tack for tonight's dinner. And while I didn't necessarily enjoy the brick-hard bread, I had some experimentation ideas to mull-over. It wasn't until I left most of the crowd behind that I realized I was being followed.