Black Mould - Thirty - The Gutter-Side Market

Black Mould - Thirty - The Gutter-Side Market

Black Mould - Thirty - The Gutter-Side Market

Debra and I followed the river. Or at least the road on the rivers edge. There was a small half-wall right along the banks, preventing anyone from falling the half-dozen metres into the Gutter.

I suspected that the river was artificial. Its width was too exact, and there were large bricks making up both sides of the river, most of them stained brown by the splashing water, though those higher up along the edge were more of a cement-beige.

Big pipes poked out of the sides of the river, some of them disgorging a constant stream of brackish water. Others were quiet until they suddenly spat out some unidentifiable liquid.

Little islands of foam swam across the surface of the river, often getting caught next to the pillars holding up one of the bridges that crossed it.

If I was a betting personand had money to bet withthen I wouldnt put any on there being anything alive in that water.

Where does this all flow to? I asked.

The ocean, Debra said.

Are we on a continent, or an island? I asked.

Debra shrugged. Were in City Nineteen. I never saw why anything beyond that would matter.

It was weird. On Earth, Id kind of taken a lot of things for granted. I guess having TV and the internet for most of my life, as well as a somewhat decent education, made it easy to forget just how much information I was given so casually.

We continued on at an easy pace, ducking under a few pipes that led out into the river, from some factories just off the shore. It seemed like a popular place for them. I had to wonder what the city was producing so much of. There were hundreds of factories, most of them relatively small. What was it all in service of? If they were making cheap goods, then I expected to be able to see those.

Id have to ask my mom and dad what they made at work. It had never come up.

The Gutterside market was, as the name suggested, next to the Gutter.

There were two rows of shops, boxed in by the river on one side and a busy street on the other. The space was a wide cobbled area, with stalls sprouting out here and there where lone salespeople hawked goods to potential customers.

There were lots of folk around, either navigating the rows of stalls or just milling around with the stuff theyd bought.

A tram car rang as it came to a stop just outside the market to unload a bunch of people.

There was a strange mix here; I saw folk like Debra and I, shoeless and in clothes so stained that no cleaning would make them nice, but there were also other people in dresses and suits, with hats on and who walked and talked with a strange formality to them.

It reminded me vividly of images of places like New York in the late 1800s. There was a very formal aesthetic among those who could afford it. It set them apart from the rest of us, though in this place at least, the common worker-type outnumbered the fancier sort.

I dont even think they were necessarily richer. Not if they were all buying from the same place. Just a different class of people, maybe.

Hello little one, he said after eyeing me for a bit. Need something?

Yeah, I said. Im looking for an oil stove. Something to cook with.

An oil stove? he asked. Dont think Ive ever seen one before.

All I need is a flame to warm up a metal plate, really, I said. Like a bunsen burner.

Never heard of that brand, he said. Weve got Rederics here. Good, handy things, with glass flutes. Theyll light up a room as good as anything.

I noticed a little sign that said he did lamp repairs. If I ordered a lamp turned into a stove, do you think you could do it? I asked. If I bought one off of you and all?

He frowned, but there werent any others at his stall, and judging by the amount of stock he had left, he wasnt selling much. I think I could tinker something like that up, he said.

How much would it cost, you think? I asked.

He named a price, which was considerably more than what a lamp cost. I pointed out that I didnt need any glasswork. Hed get to keep that part, and I bet it was the most expensive one too. He conceded the point and lowered the price by a couple of pence.

How long do you think it would take you to make something like that? I asked.

Bout a week, I suppose. I come over here once a week.

Okay, I said. How about I come back here next week, and then well see about that commission. I want some time to think about it, and youll probably want the same too, in case it proves trickier to make than you first think.

He harrumphed at me, but we agreed to see each other in a week.

I was pretty happy. The price was a bit steep, but not unaffordable.

I started to look for other things Id need. I would need a small table of sorts. Garlic too. That I found at one of the stalls near the back. It was a bit green on the edges, and had some sprouts poking through, but it was cheap. Maybe I could grow my own after a bit? It would save on some overhead.

Then my attention was caught by some chanting.

Dont tax us, tax the fog!

A black eye for black lungs!

Well, that was interesting.

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