Rector was fascinated. If he’d had any more energy, he might’ve stuck around to ask questions. These were the source sacks, their contents almost certainly collected from the deepest Blight-hole, down by the old financial district. Every pathetic little powder-runner knew that much. Rector also knew there was some system, or apparatus, or device … something that concentrated that soup-thick air down to something thicker still, until it could be poured like water.

Raw, unrefined Blight.

He’d never seen it before, and a lingering curiosity made him want to. But no, the exhaustion wouldn’t let him. He struggled to recall the directions he’d been given mere seconds ago and remembered enough to find that other hall, and the second door on the right. There wasn’t really a door there at all, which was fine by Rector, who knocked on the wall beside it to announce himself.

A dark-skinned man looked up from a desk covered in small glass vials and pots, many of which were bubbling effervescently. The lower half of his face was covered with a blue cotton bandanna, but even with this treacherous work, he didn’t bother to put on a gas mask.

“Hey there, Bishop. You look like you’re ready to take up train robbing.”

James Bishop pulled down the bandanna so it sat around his neck. He pushed his chair back and viewed Rector with no small measure of surprise. “Wreck, what are you doing inside the wall?”

Rector grinned, and hoped it didn’t look forced. “Working. For Yaozu.”

“Really.” Bishop said. It was a counter, not a question. “Yaozu.”

“That’s right, the man himself. I’m on a mission, but that mission don’t start until morning, and I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go tonight, or what I’m supposed to do. And the truth is, I’m god-awful tired.”

“Not to mention a bit banged up, by the look of you.” He pointed at Rector’s leg.

“Yeah, I had a hard time getting inside. Fell down a chuckhole.”

“Brilliant.”

Rector was determined not to take offense. “Well, it was dark and all. Anyhow, here I am. I thought maybe I’d look you up, see if I could bother you for a little favor.”

Bishop scratched at a spot behind his ear where the goggles he often wore had rubbed a track in his curly black hair. “I just bet you did.”

“It ain’t no big favor, I promise.”

“They never are.”

Exasperated, Rector threw his hands up and limped into the room uninvited but unopposed. He found an empty chair and flung himself into it. “Man, I don’t know why you’ve got to be like that. I’m tired, and I need a place to bed down for the night, and I don’t know hardly anybody down here.”