Third World

by Rubinia

You are everywhere I go. You follow. So-called human beings serve you even as they think they serve themselves, so pride and so blind. The third world is my hive. Here you are not allowed. And there is a third world inside it, like seed in a fruit, like chestbuster in man's chest. You're half me and I'm half you. I thrive.

She was strong and resilient, so she didn't need any tools other used. Bare-handly, Ripley ripped apart tangled wires of different colours and retrieved shining copper from inside. She precisesly, swiftly removed tiny cubes and marked lids, crushed them and with use of her fingernails she placed bits of mercury, platinum and other rare minerals on scraps of glass made from broken bottles. She piled up several piles of different types of plastic each. Slender, strong fingers twisted off numerous screws and broke through artificial material-made external covers as easly as fangs would through man's skin. Here or there corpses of technology unexpectedly took revenge, as human would call it, for its bretheren being disassembled.

Sharp cut on finger or sudden, red rash appears when toxines make little hair on her arms rise from chemical-induced chill and fastened heart-beating. Red, dense blood slip off the fingers. Ripley leans hand far away, ensures that red drops don't fall upon metal and plastic parts, over-done fruits of human technology. Blood marks an old rag and makes it rise a soft, white smoke. Artificial cotton slowly deteriorates with a hiss. Wound closes itself within half of a minute. Ripley runs fingers through hair, for a moment looks up at the peak of nearest monumental trash-heap and rests her sight on gleaming, blinding shine of glass and metal upon hot, yellow sun at noon.

Ripley appreciates burning kiss of earthly brightest star upon her back and arms. Hair are as hot as a pancake-pan after gathering waves-delivered energy for hours, yet her mind still, clear and cool. Slender and reasonable moves, delicate-in-look but strong hands are her only tools as Ripley resumes the work. Recycleable materials scavenger. She is glad she has this kind of prey.

She never had a serious sunburn even having but a tawni complexion, so bright when compared to skin of others. Even more surprising with her using no sunblocker, as sunblockers tend to boil and waporate quickly as soon as she sweats.