An Old Purifier

The biting wind swept past.

Sitting on the edge of the building, Karyl slowly began eating the nutrient paste from his plastic tray.

He ate the black stuff expressionlessly, appearing unmoved. But every time he swallowed a mouthful, his throat bobbed for a long, long time.

He ate in silence, with grim determination. Even when his tongue went numb and his body protested, he never stopped.

He needed to eat to stay alive.

"."

After the last bite, Karyl put away the tray, then closed his eyes in silence and waited patiently in the cold wind.

He had to make sure the paste had really gone all the way down. If it hadn't, he might suddenly throw it up a little later.

Karyl didn't want that to happen again. Wasting food once was bad enough.

Still, the real reason he threw up wasn't just nausea and disgust. More than anything, his throat and stomach instinctively refused to accept the stuff.

They didn't recognize it as food.

Every time he ate, his body's instincts wailed for something other than that paste, but Karyl paid them no mind.

On Nostramo, nutrient paste was the only thing he recognized as normal food.

It tasted awful and looked awful, and smelled more like a chemical product than food. Yes, its only redeeming quality was that it filled your stomach. But at least it wasn't made from rats or whatever they sold at the butcher's.

Karyl slowly got to his feet.

He was certain he had finished the task of "eating." Now all he had to do was keep methodically taking care of each thing in turn.

Standing at the edge of the building, he rolled his shoulders. Without a cloak, his robe, woven from scraps of cloth, fluttered in the biting wind. The sound even had a strange rhythm to it.

As the hem billowed, Karyl casually flexed his hands inside his sleeves. His body heat was fading, and his hands had already grown a little numb with cold.

Still, that was a good thing. These unpleasant sensations always helped keep him alert.

He needed to stay alert.

Every scion of the Skolevok Family had died, along with the Glory Warlords, their agents in Quintus Underhive.

That was no small matter, not even for the Skolevoks.

Suffering such a major loss on the eve of the Great Purge would undoubtedly leave some of them burning with rage.

But this family wasn't as loose-knit as Tremor-Tooth. They were highly disciplined. Without an order from their family head, the Earl, no one would act on their own.

In other words, if the Earl was the calm sort, they would have to change the next step of their plan.

At the thought, he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. The Skolevok Family could wait. Tremor-Tooth still hadn't come.

He had no idea whether they had forgotten or simply didn't care that one of their newly acquired slaves had died.

Karyl suspected it was the latter, and that disappointed him greatly.

After all, the Great Purge was only a month away.

When it came, the commoners of the Underhive would stay behind closed doors, huddled and trembling in the Shantytown or their crumbling apartments.

The gangs would start slaughtering one another without restraint, abandoning every rule and principle to secure gains for the nobles they served.

The nobles wouldn't come down to the Underhive at a time like that. And after the Great Purge, anyone with a shred of sense would give up on finding the culprit in the chaos.

Tremor-Tooth might be crazy, but they weren't stupid. And if they didn't send anyone—

Tsk.

Would they really just give up like that?

Karyl had no answer. But he did remember something else about the Great Purge.

"Great Purge" was simply the name everyone had settled on. Everyone else on Nostramo called it that, but the nobles had their own little distinction.

Whether they were conversing elegantly at a ball in their finery or trading bloody favors around a conference table, they called the brutal affair "the Purification."

That was what they called it in all their written documents.

Purification.

More amusingly, for a time, they had even advertised it everywhere.

"Purify the Underhive and free the people of Nostramo from corruption, poverty, and violence."

Those words had once appeared day and night on the floating billboards near the factories.

Karyl couldn't help smiling. The whole thing seemed so ironic to him that it was almost absurdly funny.

The workers couldn't read. Who were they putting those slogans up for?

Purification. They certainly had a sense of humor.

I really hate that kind of humor.

"Karyl!"

Wraith's voice came from behind him, bright with unmistakable excitement.

"I found a purifier nobody wanted!"

Karyl turned and saw Wraith wearing an unmistakably happy expression. He was holding a heavy machine in his arms. Its surface was covered in rust, and its shape had warped.

Clearly, someone had thrown it away because it was broken.

"Can we use it?" Wraith asked hopefully.

"Maybe. But it'll take a lot of work to repair." Karyl nodded noncommittally. "Where did you find it?"

"In the factory dump in the center of the New District."

Wraith answered rapidly. "I spotted it while making my rounds today. It looks like it's been there for days, but nobody's picked it up!"

You think you got lucky, don't you?

Karyl smiled to himself.

But you're lucky because nobody wants a broken Old Water Purifier, Wraith.

These machines were absurdly heavy. You were probably the only one who could carry one in a single arm. And they broke down at an astonishing rate. They'd been obsolete for ages.

Most old purifiers disappeared into some forgotten corner of the city after being discarded. Over time, they were gradually buried under sludge or corpses.

It was always the same.

Always buried, always ignored, always forgotten.

Karyl blinked. As his thoughts briefly stirred, he took a deep breath of the cold air, then slowly began to smile.

"You're lucky," he said with a smile. "I've never found one before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Put it on the ground. I'll see if it still works."

Wraith immediately crouched and carefully set the purifier down.

Karyl stepped forward.

He crouched and tapped the purifier's surface with a finger. A dull thud followed, slowly fading across the rooftop.

"Does it still work?" Wraith asked hopefully.

"...I only tapped it."

Karyl couldn't help laughing. "How could I know what shape it's in just by tapping it?"

Besides, we don't have any electricity, Wraith. The Rainwater Filter works because it's an incredibly simple little thing—so simple it doesn't even need power.

But this huge thing you brought back is a power-hungry monster.

"Oh." Wraith nodded, disappointed. "I thought you'd know."

"How could I know everything?"

Karyl answered casually as he rubbed the purifier's side with his sleeve.

There was usually a label here with the date and place of manufacture. Once they figured that out, they could find compatible replacement parts at the corresponding shops in the city.

The shops that dabbled in—or, more accurately, specialized in—the black market sold just about everything.

Machine parts, bullets, organs. They dealt in almost everything. They didn't compete with the butchers, but otherwise they did it all.

At that thought, Karyl's hand paused. They had no money, so the parts might be a problem.

And replacing the parts in an old purifier came with another condition.

Never mind. He'd look first.

Without letting anything show, he continued rubbing the purifier's side with his sleeve. The grime soon came away. In the light of a neon sign sweeping over them, Karyl made out the words engraved on its side.

He examined them closely for a moment, then looked up and shook his head at Wraith. "Looks like it can't be repaired, Wraith."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because the factory that made it closed ten years ago. There were lots of different models of old purifier, and the one you found was one of the less effective ones. That's why the factory closed."

"It didn't sell well, and few people wanted to buy one. The officials and other factory owners had better options, so not many were ever made. You really were lucky to find it."

Wraith blinked, then asked, disappointed, "So we can't fix it?"

Karyl gave a slight nod.

"Can't we use parts from another purifier?" Wraith pressed, unwilling to give up.

"The inner workings are different in every machine. Even if parts from another purifier could be made to fit, there's little chance it would work like it used to."

"...Sorry, Karyl."

"Hmm?"

Wraith crouched down, crestfallen. "I brought back something useless and wasted your time."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because..." Wraith mumbled. "Your countdown."

Karyl fell silent.

The cold wind swept past.

For the first time, he didn't know how to respond to the innocent creature in front of him.

He couldn't help thinking of the past.

Long, long ago, back when he was a ghost, darkness had already shrouded the skies of Nostramo.

Crime ran rampant. It was the foundation of the place, and every corner of the Star of Eternal Night seemed diseased, depraved, and deranged.

Every second that ghost drifted over Nostramo, he heard countless screams. The wronged dead were beyond counting, yet the people responsible went unpunished. "Justice" and "retribution" never came.

They wouldn't even be late.

Then, after a terrible stretch of years, that ghost became Karyl Lohars.

The ghost lowered his head and sighed.

"Karyl?" Wraith called to him anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Karyl answered softly.

"But your countdown."

Yes, my countdown.

As long as I don't use that power too recklessly, I can live without trouble. I might even live for a long time.

But I can't, Wraith. I have to use it.

I'm the only one who knows what's wrong with Nostramo.

"Wraith."

"Huh?"

"You don't need to worry about my countdown," Karyl said calmly. "I'll find a way to deal with it."

"Really?"

"I've never lied to you. Besides, how about we talk about what we're doing next?"

Wraith looked at him, then nodded.

Karyl smiled faintly.

"The Great Purge is only a month away. As usual, the nobles will soon send a representative to give a speech in the center of the New District. It's a pompous and utterly meaningless tradition, but it works in our favor."

"At least, not yet."

"First of all—I don't write tearjerkers."

"Then—that's it. I wish you all good health and happiness."