Steempunk-Net Female Adventurer: Spark a new Life

(This is a possible introductory/starting text for the female adventurer of Steempunk-Net or another class originating on Ground Zero. Find the roadmap of the game development here)

“Try it again!”
The young girl with the short red hair had to shout at the top of her voice. The words echoed around the many corners and through the pipes, cables and other stuff that filled the dark and stinky room.

Not many people would have found even one thing they liked in here. But the girl didn’t mind the smell or the grease or the danger of the electricity flowing through shaky cables. She was used to it. She was the electrician of this street. No one would have called here that, since nobody had ever met a real electrician. She just always tinkered around with anything technical she could lay hands on and the people were glad for it.

Her father had taught her a lot, probably the most important thing on his last day: that however skilled or experienced you are, if you are careless, you die.

But that was several years ago and the girl only thought about him when she did work as the one she did now: making a connection to the big cables that supplied the big city above their heads to get a few sparks out for themselves.

The Skypeople would call this stealing, but down here nobody thought about it that way. They were just taking their part, to make their lives a little bit less hard. Nobody would come down here to make a proper electricity access anyway.

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“Do you hear me? Try it again!”, the girl shouted a second time, well aware that her customer probably didn’t.

But then the little LED on her pad lighted up, showing a working connection.

“Wooha!” Excited, but still careful, she gathered her tools, put them on the various places of her sleek body they belonged to, and made the way backwards out of the room, through the tunnel that was less then a meter in diameter. It was a maintenance tunnel to be used by robots, but the last maintenance robot had died before the girl was born. It was safe to use if you know how the alarm system worked.

The girl had the knowledge. That was all that kept her alive.

“Well done, thank you Pat!”

The old man, he was nearly sixty, the second oldest in this street, helped her up. Patricia, as only her father has called her, didn’t need that help. But she knew well that it was part of the payment, the respect that showed in those little gestures. Often respect was all the people here had.

Up on her feet Pat stretched herself, exposing her breasts in the rotten tanktop if she had any. She was fifteen but most people assumed she was twelve, and that was based both on looks and behavior.

“Whenever you need me!”, she shouted and patted the old man on the shoulder with a grin that could cut off heads. “What about the payment?”

In the top world that may have sounded rude, but down here it was normal to get to the point. Being friends was one thing, but this was business.

Out of the deep pockets of the man came two packages.

“Here, two Lentsoy Orange XL. I will never understand why you like that stuff, but since you are the only one, at least I have a use for them.”

“Just keep them coming, and Pat will be your best friend!”, grinned the girl and took the white packages.
“See you next time!”

With a big wave and a jump the girl turned and run away, back to the place she called home.

Some minutes later she carefully wedged herself into the little gap between two buildings. A few steps around a cage-like heap of rotten materials and then she was at her den.
Intensely looking left, right and at the wall made sure she was alone. Then she pressed the wall here and here at the same time and something went click. With just one hand she moved an innocent looking part of the wall inside, revealing a tiny, empty room followed by a big room full of stuff in what once was probably a basement.

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Now it was Pat’s den, her home and hiding place. Here she was safe.

Inside she was greeted by a mechanical dog which had only one ear left, the other one was made out of cardboard. He was decades old junk and totally disemboweled when Pat had found him, but for her it was love on first sight, so she repaired him with parts she found or traded in.

His enthusiastic bark made her laugh, and happily Pat patted the dog on his head.

“Have you been a good boy, Tesla? I see you were! You have protected my home, good boy!”

With a wide grin the young girl placed herself on the only chair in the room, cross legged. The chair had lost his back, but the girl was okay with that. It made things easier. She could just swivel around on it. And that she did, when she took a pot from her left, got water from the right and placed it on the stove in the middle.

Then she turned fully around and rested her eyes on her latest treasure: a broken Steempunk-Net corporation implant.
Pat had never seen one before, but she knew the descriptions and what that thing did.
She had four minutes until the water boiled and six more until one of the fresh Lentsoy Orange XL meals was ready to eat.

Ten minutes to get around the last firewall. That was a challenge Pat liked. She was determined to win.
And then, after the meal, she would see what this baby could do for her.

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Posted on Utopian.io - Rewarding Open Source Contributors

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