Vignette:An Elektivouder's Commute

An Elektivouder's Commute
 * via Meiko Aitzema in Elektivoud, Izeryk

he crack of sparking overhead wires jolted Meiko awake. His eyes fought against the sharpness of day's light—it had still be night when he got on the tram. Although Meiko had boarded an empty car on the city's outskirts, when he awoke he was met by Elektivouders cramed in shoulder to shoulder. With every jerk of the tram, people would slide almost on top of Meiko's seat before recoiling back. Looking across out the window, the sights of Elektivoud shot past. Dirt footpaths lined the tramway, feeding into loafty wooden highrises embedded into colossal elektic trees. The overhead wires powering the tram fed directly from these trees, as did most other buildings and lamps in the city. Aside from their enormous size, some piercing up to 200 meters into the sky, they were elektic, acting almost as conduits channeling the power of the elektia ore deposits deep underneath Elektivoud. Although the city's outer suburbs had expanded away from those deposits—and thus abided by more conventional construction—the centre of Elektivoud was designated a protected place under Izeryk law due to its unique "treehouse culture". Such protection was perhaps the only thing that saved it from being dug into an elektia quarry.

The enormous power hidden beneath Elektivoud was behind another fundamental aspect of the city's culture; something that attracted Meiko's family and thousands of other families from around Izeryk. It was the reason why Meiko always wore his black leather gloves when on the tram and why Elektivoud was the heart of Izeryk's Elektia exploration and metallurgical industries. The forest city was the centre of Izeryk's Voelist population, largely because of the sensation that elektia-charged soil gave to their ancestors. Voelism was a trait innate to many throughout the world and honed by some. For unknown reasons, being born as a Voelist made a person highly sensitive to elektia and certain metals. So much so that, if trained from a young age, Voelists can use their skill professionally to aid in exploring for elektia deposits, find imperfections in metallic structures, or even determine the nutriousness of soils for agriculture. Meiko was a junior quality assurance technician at a rebar factory in northern Elektivoud, checking the reinforcing steel bars for impurities that could compromise strength. He made the same commute almost every morning, working a tiresome 11 hour shift on the line six days a week. But, although some would use their Voelism professionally, many more remained untrained, but still retained a heightened sensitivity to elektia that made Elektivoud an unmatched novelty. In Elektivoud, one could tell the Voelists apart by the common practice of walking in barefoot stockings, with just a piece of leather drapped over the top of the foot and wrapping around the toes. This couldn't be done in any other city; at least not comfortably. But in Elektivoud where the streets were built around the Voelists, it unlocked a new set of sensations. Meiko wore black stockings on his commute to inject a little excitement into his day before inevitably being trapped on the harsh factory floor all day.

The tram screeched as its steel wheels grinded around the final turn before end of the line. The sun, in alignment with the main thoroughfare at this time of year, was blocked out by the giant elektic woods and their outgrowing structures. The blueish glow of the passing cars' elektic reactors became even more prominent, contrasting with the warm street lighting. Each tree acted as a central pillar for each hardwood-crafted skyscraper, with glass-paned shops lining the ground floor. That early morning, thousands were swarming to get to work or grab breakfast. Like a bruise on a banana, every so often a cluster of drained dwellers dominated a section of footpath, meandering their way from the night shift to the metro stations.

The tramline terminated at the base of a steep avenue, leaving the last and most grueling part of Meiko's journey to the foot march. As he leaped off the tram, a cloud of elektia dust wofted over him, tingling his face. It came from a preacher standing on a tramstop bench.

"I have the sight! We all have the sight!" she chanted. "They want to keep you blind, but I can show you the way!"

This sort of prosthelytizing was common throughout Izeryk. Voelists with certain sensitivities to elektia—usually elektia dependents themselves—claimed to be able to see the souls that flow through the substance. It was all a little much, though; a confronting performance that typically attracted the attention of the law without delay. So, Meiko averted his gaze and moved on.

Meiko's trek was lined with commerce and only a sparse sowing of elektic trees—far too scrawny and few in number to power the tram organically. The unpaved footpath was lined with freshly churned soil, a Secretariat on Works enrichment program for the city's Voelists. Although providing a sense of calm within the bustle, this was quickly muddled as Meiko walked past his first shop. On the ground, shopkeeps strewed a mixture of powdered elektia and salts in an attempt to appeal to the senses of Voelists. However, particularly in the commerce districts, the powder amounted to an an overbearing noise, similar to how the urban cacophony blends into a non-destinct loudness. This is because the owners of the mainstream shops were largely not Voelists themselves and all purchased their street powders from the same cheap wholesaler. They all felt the same.

The sole exception was Meiko's favorite brewshop The Nest, run by its wholesome engineer-turned-brewmaster Voelist owner Valrav. As Meiko approached The Nest's threshold, a warm, comfy sensation climbed up his legs, overwhelming the noise of generic eletronics store #7. The specific feeling would be hard to articulate to a non-Voelist, but it felt cosy and inviting in the same way the scent of freshly baked cinnamon treats might. The shop window was stacked with plenty of tastey treats—chocolate-filled bagels, delicate pastries, sausage rolls somewhat ominously coined Valkorian Finglets—and silos of coffee beans and food-safe elektia powders (for those Voelist customers) towered behind the brewers' counter. Very tempting; the morning never felt complete without a lightly elektic brew. But, after a brief pondering, Meiko continued his stride up the slope. He was trying to cut back on the brews afterall, and the social inconvenience of the morning patrons was enough to keep him on track.

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