Chapter Thirty-Three: A Cup in Time

I soon found myself alone in the meandering crowd on the streets below, and casted a glance over my shoulder at the large window above; yet, due to the position of the sun a heavy glare was created off the glass, and when a slight griminess was added on top of it all, I couldn't make out what was on the opposite side of Manheim's office window. Despite that, I felt like I could see him staring down at me from the other side of that dirty window, my senses just screamed out that I was being watched at all times.

A question lingered in the air, or at least it floated around my head: would getting farther away remove this sense of unease? With a heavy breath and a sluggishness weighing down on my bones, I began to shuffle amongst the people and set out to explore Siman's Ridge. If I was lucky, I'd stumble upon that bathhouse – considering it was recommended by the leader of the settlement, it had to be good.

Following the flow of the people, I moved toward the northeast. The lightly cobbled-together buildings soon began to become stacked upon one another and much more densely packed, the materials looked far more reinforced, too; in part, it had to be to hold the additional weight, but perhaps it was meant to be a holding point for if the walls fell. The grey and greens of the metal even started to take on new shades as layers of paint had been placed and splattered across the surfaces, no two surfaces matched and some looked like they were thrown up by children. Despite the more chaotic nature of the area, it held a slightly calming air and, more importantly, it gave the place a sense of character.

It wasn't much longer before I was practically pushed aside by the growing mass of people, I must have gotten close to one of the living districts, as a number of children were carelessly running about. Yet, the adults were the ones with warm smiles plastered across their faces as the children laughed and played. It was around that point that I saw one of the runts fall down, he smacked face first against the solid, hard ground – that caused me to realize that at some point the dirt had transitioned to concrete or asphalt (not that I know the difference) that had layered the bridge – and after a few moments of sniffling back tears, he hung his head low.

Looking around, none of the people around me seemed to react to the child. It was as if he hadn't existed. Compared to his peers, he looked like an orphan – dirt covered, roughly patched clothes, and clumpy hair. I couldn't sit back and do nothing, this bothered me.

Pushing through the crowd, I soon came upon the kid; his ginger hair was the first thing to come into sight, followed by his trembling shoulders. I reached into my bag as I knelt down before him. His face was covered in dark freckles and an even greater amount of dirt. As soon as he noticed someone stopping in front of him, he shot up with a fierce glare – or as fierce a glare a child could muster.

I smiled back, pulled out my book and pencil, leaving them atop my bag, then my precious cup and set it between us; before finally giving him a little wave. His hostility turned to confusion, and his small voice called out, barely reaching my ear, "What d'ya want?"

Plucking up my book, I wrote down: 'Are you alright?'

"Why d'ya care?" he slightly shifted away, rubbed his nose with his arm and winced; but quickly threw another glare my way, as if he remembered he was trying to be tough.

'You're hurt. No one was helping.'

"I dun need yer pithy."

Does he mean pity?

I shook my head: 'Not pity. I want to help you.'

After slowly working through my writing, he scoffed and batted my knee with a tiny fist, "Uh-huh, right." I winced at the impact, as I felt a shock zap down my leg. "Huh?" He looked down at his balled up hand, then toward where he hit, then back to his fist.

I simply smiled and grabbed my cup, offering it over to him. His growing confusion took a massive leap as even his face twisted up, a thousand thoughts must have been swirling inside his head. I showed him the next phrase, something I had written at the start: 'My treasure, a gift to you.'

Cautiously, he reached out for it, poking it with a finger, then flicking it. I did everything in my power not to let the humor of the situation surface, and moved the cup closer toward him. He eventually took it, still questioning what was happening to him – his pain from falling already forgotten, due to this seemingly crazy lady giving him a cup (of all things).

"Yer wired." With that, he nodded to himself and then ran off. I reached out to stop him, but he got outside my reach and escaped.

There goes asking for directions...

Putting my book away, I stood and brushed myself off. With only one clear course of action, I continued down the way. Eventually the buildings started to hang over the walkway and created a canopy above – thick beams ran up to meet them. While this gave a small sense of claustrophobia, I could spot occasional breaks between buildings; little alleys that led to yet another house or door, one likely hanging off the side of the bridge, as it was quite evident we were above the water now.

After about four minutes, I stopped before a building; it had a teal coating and a mass of red and green and blue and yellow handprints slapped across the surface, enough so that the teal appeared as if it were more a background color than the primary coloring. Two signs described the place; one seemingly bolted right into the floor (or ceiling) of one of the places above, it read: 'Spoon Repose.' I didn't try to understand it. The other sign, meanwhile, had a symbol that must have represented water and steam and simply read: 'Bathhouse.'

It was clear that this was my destination, so without waiting another second I headed to the door. I stepped inside after pulling the handle and was immediately greeted by the heavy scent of bath salts, soap, and poppies. My ears were met with hissing and creaking as hot water rushed through piping, and conversations drifted in from the outside; once the door shut, it was as if the outside world ceased to exist and an almost eerie-quiet fell over the place as only the pipes remained.

Inside, there was a hardwood floor with some sort of fur carpet resting in the middle, past that a large counter with an overly large and muscular man sitting behind it; he had a handlebar mustache and curly blonde hair, and he sat in such a way that it looked as if he were trying to make himself look as small as possible – had it been out of consideration or another reason? To his left and right of the counter were a door on either side. To the far left was a small seating area, perhaps somewhere to wait, while on the right was another door, this one being marked as no entry allowed. A wilting flower of some sort sat in the corner of the room, its once vibrant colors having faded.

I strode over to the counter, and as soon as I stepped up, the large man placed a paper on the top and slid it across the way. Looking down, I saw it spelled out the various services offered and the prices; massages, baths, special baths, and special massages; and one final option that was incredibly pricey that seemed to use a lot of flowery words – I didn't understand it all that well. Each service costed bottle caps, just like with the merchant. At least I had enough to get the basic bath, but it was close.

I twirled the paper around and pointed toward the bath option on the top, the large man nodded and pointed toward the price – fifty-six bottle caps. I produced my bottle caps and placed them on the counter, he slid them toward himself and started moving things from one pile into a new one – counting them out. After a few moments, he seemed to have finished and dropped them below the counter, based on the noise it was safe to say they landed in some sort of bag.

With that, he nodded, confirming the payment, then gestured toward the door on the left. I gave him a gesture of acknowledgement, then proceeded through the doorway. On the other side, the scents perforating the bathhouse grew dozens of times stronger, it made my vision swirl for just a moment as I was buffeted by the scent-thick air.

Taking a deep breath, I breathed in the aroma and suddenly found myself even more light-headed, and just like that my stance began to teeter and tip. A hand caught me just before I fell over, despite the circumstances the first thing that I noticed was how firm it had been. The second thing I noticed was that my vision had become unfocused at some point, had this been a result of the fumes as well?

"—ight?"

I gripped my head just as a voice broke through the fog. I looked toward the source and what felt like a few moments passed before things came into focus, a pretty face stared back at me – she was looking down upon me. She was at least half a foot taller than me and covered in a simple blue robe, she had short chestnut hair that seemed to only draw my eyes toward her own. Two glassy orbs that looked as if they could see into my very depths and unravel me at a glance; but that idea soon caused my cheeks to redden as I realized that couldn't possibly be the case.

"Ahem. Are you alright, dear?" I blinked a few times and she released me, "Wonderful, it seems you've recovered! Entering the baths can be a little overwhelming for newcomers." She smiled and took a few steps back, offering me more space, then gestured behind her, "Over through that curtain is the women's side, just find an empty room and enjoy the bath to your heart's content! Just let me know if you need anything!"

In half-a-daze I nodded, not entirely certain what she had just said but somehow parsing enough of an understanding to start toward the next stage. It wasn't until she started to walk away that I noticed the immense pain radiating from my shoulder, and I couldn't help but grimace and start toward the curtain.

Pushing past the red curtain, I came upon another hallway which ran parallel to the first. This one was lined with solid wooden doors, several of which were left open. Picking one of the rooms at random, I approached and found a moderately sized space sectioned off into two areas; one with a bench and locker, and the other with a large tub.

It didn't take long for me to shut and lock the door, place my things in the locker, and start to undress; yet my clothes were half-sticking to me and it was a struggle to take them off. I'd either need to replace them or get them washed – likely multiple times.

After a bit more struggling, I strode into the bathing half; the tub was large, occupying the space wall to wall and looked fairly deep. Steaming water was already sitting inside and a small stream continued to move water in, from the angle I stood it was hard to tell how it wasn't overflowing. But I pushed those thoughts aside and stepped inside.

The water was soothing yet almost harsh, perhaps it'd truly been too long since the last time I took a dip – or maybe it was the barely-sealed wounds causing massive amounts of discomfort – that I tried to simply push through. Whatever the case may have been, I let myself sink into the tub, the sounds of water splashing out reached my ears. It hadn't taken long for a sense of warmth to have permeated through my body and for a sense of rest to overtake my muscles, despite the unease of the wounds.

I don't know exactly how much time passed, but I eventually got out of the tub and moved back into the space with the locker; sitting in a basket beside the locker was a pile of neatly folded towels. I grabbed one and carefully dried off. Soon after I was getting dressed and pulling on my equipment and bag. My clothes were still a mess, but I'd have to get that sorted out later.

I pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, moved back through the curtain into the main hall, and made for the last barrier to reaching the front room. However, with each step I felt a sense of vertigo start to take hold. With each step I saw my vision dance. With each step the sound of the piping gradually became muted. Then with my last step I heard a voice calling out from miles away, and a thousand tiny motes of light danced before my eyes – it was blinding.

-Data Look-up Failed; Transmission Terminated-