Skylar didn't like his day job, and he didn't like his night job, but for completely different reasons.
Skylar Cavan was a second level bioengineering administer in the forth district wheat production harvesting department. It was a nice long name that meant absolutely nothing and everyone knew so. People of Skylar's position were more often simply referred to as millers and left at that. His responsibilities were simple, oversee the machines that did all of the real work, and not let a single grain go to waste. He wasn't even responsible for fixing the complex harvesting machines with their miles of wiring, tiny computer chips and shiny casings of metal. He was simply to watch it and to clean it so that no percentage, no matter how small, of the product would go to waste.
He was one of many such millers that worked in the forth district wheat production harvesting department. Their building alone occupied enough space for four residential complexes, and towered as high as any of them. There were floors upon floors of harvesting rooms, each filled with the special lightening and right percentage of humidity to keep the product growing, but to not to go to waste. On each level there could be up to twenty millers working at a time, each watching over and tending his or her own little wheat field. During work hours there was very little contact between any of them however. One machine and one man was enough to farm a field a mile long and a quarter of a mile deep.
Skylar knew the names of every other miller on his floor, however, since he liked having some one to talk to when he wasn't working. And everyone else on the floor knew his name, as well, since he knew how to fix the harvester machines without anyone else having to know they had stopped. Which was good, because the machines never worked like they were supposed to, and it was the miller who was always blamed if they did not.
But Skylar had a talent for making reluctant steel move again, and computer screens to come back to life. It was the only part of his job that he actually liked. The harvesting machines had a surprisingly complex design, but he knew it inside and out by the time he was promoted up from first level to second.
That's why he wasn't surprised and was instead relieved when he saw Amalie hastily scooting down the row between his field and Emmet's. She nearly tripped twice in the narrow space, but didn't stop moving until she had reached him, about halfway down.
"It started making that noise again!" She blurted out in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was far too high pitched to stay quiet. "And then it just stopped!"
Skylar smiled reassuringly at her before glancing back at his own machine. He was just finishing up a routine sweep of the main cycle. It could work on its own for a few moments once he had that done, long enough for him to go see what the problem was this time. It was probably the fan belt again. It was getting thin and would have to be replaced soon. But if he could coax it into running a little longer, Amalie shouldn't get too much grief over putting in a request for a new one. She'd get docked pay until it was installed, of course, but they couldn't blame her for it if the last belt was in tatters by the time she had to go to them for a new one.
With one last swipe, Skylar slapped down the access panel and hit the online button again, and typed in his code quickly. The five numbers he used were almost completely faded from the key pad, which always made him wonder why they were needed. Who else would be using his machine?
Amalie was shifting from foot to foot by the time he turned back to her. Her wide brown eyes kept darting between the door, and her field, waiting for a manager to pick such an unfortunate time to make his usual rounds. She didn't have to worry though. The manager always came at the same time, and even though there were no clocks in this room, Skylar knew by feel that they still had plenty of time before he'd stroll through.
"It's the third time this month." Amalie pointed out in a little voice as they both made their way back down the row to the main walk way. "I just don't know what I'm doing!" She wringing her hands again, spinning the tiny plastic band on her left index finger.
"It's alright." Skylar replied. "Happens eventually. Things can't run forever without some trouble. I'll get it goin' again."
She smiled at him in relief, and it made him feel like he had a purpose doing this hatefully boring job.

His night time job wasn't nearly as boring, but it was distasteful in its own way.
It paid three times as much, however, and that made it worth it.
The only trouble was, it didn't pay regularly. Not nearly enough. So he had to do the day job to cover up when the night job wasn't going well. But he had survived this long, and he figured he'd always find a way to keep surviving doing as he was taught. There were benefits ton his night job, even if it didn't always bring in the money he needed. At least with the night job he had something more than being a second level bioengineering administer in the forth district wheat production harvesting department.
Supposedly, Freelancers were one of the oldest institutions known to man. They had been around at the beginning of civilization, and were as much a part of it as the hundred of faceless people that made up the districts of Delian and the upper levels of Gavivi. They were selective, talented, and well paid. They were almost always hired by the wealthy of Gavivi, and always came from the underbelly of Delian. Each Freelancer had the right to negotiate his own contract, demand whatever amount of money he wanted, refuse what ever job he wished to (though this one happened only rarely) and was allowed to take on one apprentice. The only way a person could become a Freelancer without having been the apprentice of one was to prove him or her self to every other Freelancer, which usually meant a tournament. It didn't happen often, and that kept their numbers down. Thankfully, an apprentice didn't have to participate in such things.
Skylar's Uncle Raimi had been a Freelancer, and he had been the one to pass on the title to Skylar. He had taken Skylar on just after the boy's parents and siblings had died, and over Raimi's own offspring.
"He's got the spirit of a runt that's learned how to fight for himself." He had said when ever anyone had questioned his choice.
Skylar had been a runt, and still was smaller than most of his peers. He may have grown some from the years under his Uncle's care, but the small boy could still be seen in him. He was short, with thin bones and scraggly dark blond hair and wide grey-blue eyes. He had long thin fingers though, which were good with machines, and his Uncle always said he could see better than a cat at night. He had been the youngest of eight, and had learned quickly how to steal for his dinner.
Uncle used to say things like that when talking with his peers. Skylar hadn't been a logical choice, but Raimi was respected for his experience and no one had challenged Skylar's right to bear his Uncle's title after the man had been shot in action. No one had moved to help the teenage boy who was suddenly responsible for himself again, but no one had challenged his right to accept work as a Freelancer.
As a young man, he was doing slightly better than he had those first couple of years. The day job helped fill in what he couldn't earn in the night, and once he showed he had a talent for something, he started to get contracts.
But only every now and then. Most people didn't have a use for a Freelancer who didn't know how to kill anyone.
"They're puttin' a job together in Gavivi again." Was the rumor that found its way among the Freelancers. "Lookin' for anyone not already tied in. Certain conditions though, 'cause you know they ain't going to be givin' out such good money without wantin' something more than the ordinary. Have to be able to take orders. Is what they say. Not goin' to find too many Freelancers that're goin' to like the sound of that."
Skylar didn't mind the sound of it, and moved from the bar to the side of Styx understood to be the gathering place for freelancers looking for work. There were a fair number of them in that night, drawn out by the rumor of easy money.
Chung was presiding at the moment, having just returned from his own contract negotiations, and proudly signed off for the next year. An entire year! It was almost unheard of for a contract to last so long! Six months was considered a long term job, it was hard to imagine a whole year bound to work on one job and for one client. Chung was quite happy about the whole arrangement, however, and while he wouldn't say how much he was being paid (it being a taboo to announce such a thing) he was heavily hinting that it was great deal more than he'd make doing any other kind of job.
Skylar scooted a little closer, slipping between some of the younger Freelancers that where about his age. Freelancers tended to group in order of seniority, but Skylar was thinner than most and could squeeze in a little closer than his peers.
"It's some Capi in Gavivi, got more money than he knows right what to do with." Chung told them lazily, sitting at the table and speaking as if only to the men seated with him. "He's got some big plan or another, and needs a little manpower to make sure everything runs smooth like."
"Miller-watchin'?" Someone called out from behind Skylar, making him wince. He really hoped none of the other Freelancers figured out he was still having to resort to being a miller on the side to pay for his essentials. He might just end up being the first apprenticed Freelancer made to do the tournament.
No body was thinking about that now, more focused on what Chung had to report. "Naw, not exactly. I mean, we'll probably have to do a little of that and everythin', but it sounds like the ol' boy's a little worried about some of his competition gettin' out of hand." Chung grinned, making it quite clear that he was hoping that would be the case.
"Well that's nothin' new." The Freelancer next to Skylar muttered to himself. "They could keep half this city in control if it wasn't for us keepin' it that way. Maybe it's about time they started payin' us more for it." Some of the others around them murmured in agreement.
It wasn't such a bad deal. A little extra money right now was exactly what Skylar needed, or at least the promise of more money. His landlord was going to be knocking on his door any day now. There was only one thing that was keeping Skylar from going right now to find a contract.
"They're even offerin' to put up the money for your things and such." Chung added on cheerfully. "New handguns and rifles for each man that signs on, along with access to housing in Gavivi and anythin' in pa'ticular you might be wantin' on the job. Not to bad, is it?" He finished proudly, leaning back in his chair and taking a slow drink.
Skylar slouched his shoulders, and started edging backwards. The men behind him were more than willing to let him back out, and one of them, Ormand, even smirked knowingly as he shoved past.
Skylar didn't like his day job, and he didn't like his night job. He just couldn't figure out which one he liked the least.

Skylar didn't find anything that night, and gave up on it once the others started clearing out, the majority of them following Chung directions on where to meet this Capi's man. Skylar turned the other way when he left Styx, not heading towards the point of the district and the rows of elevators there that went up to the area called Gavivi. He headed towards the back of the forth district of Delian, and the residential complex whose owner he owed.
It wasn't a fun walk, and it had him thinking more of when his Uncle was alive than he like to. He didn't know whether or not his Uncle would have taken the job. Raimi was one of the best Freelancers in his generation, but he didn't like being controlled, and he didn't like following orders. There's a reason we're called Freelancers, he would point out when ever he and a client had a disagreement on terms in a contract. Always be suspicious of the man that asks you to go back on that tradition. But would Raimi's suspicions have held him back from such an amount of money? It had been easy for Raimi to talk about Freelancer tradition and pride, he had lot more choices considering his belly was always full and he didn't have to worry about where he was going to sleep that night. His life had been steady, living off of his talents, and he had made Skylar's life just as steady.
But there was no such thing as an old Freelancer. There was the new generation, and those that hadn't been killed yet.
Skylar stood outside his complex, watching the window left of the front door. There was no light on inside, and after a while, he decided that there was no one home. He slipped inside, glad to be out of the wind that was starting to get a chill to it. It made his fingers cold enough that he rubbed them against the side of his leg as he tried to take the stairs two at a time, before eventually gave in to having short legs and scrambled up them one by one. It was eighteen flights up, nine floors, a hundred and sixty-two stairs to his floor.
He had to work in the morning, back as a miller during the day and looking for a contract during the night, and he hated it.

He was laughing, though, the next day as he spoke quietly with his co- workers during break. Their entire floor was allowed one break, at the same time, to eat whatever they had brought with them. It was a time primarily for socializing for Skylar, and less eating. He never brought much with him, but just enough not to shameful. He preferred to talk, and tell whatever stories he had thought up during the first half of the work day. They were rarely good stories, and he could never tell them right, always forgetting some important fact, or mixing things up, but the others listened politely and preferred his chatter to the faint whirling sound of the machines a level above.
Amalie was one perhaps the only one who listened to ever word he said, often forgetting to eat her own lunch until only a few moments before they were due to return to working. Because she listened so avidly, he started to modify his stories till they had all of the things she liked most. Stories like a rich Capies, that suddenly turn generous, or like a boy in one district falling in love with a girl in another, and all of the elaborate schemes they concoct in order to see one another. She liked those kinds of stories, and he liked to make her smile.
She always looked kind of pretty when she smiled.

He was in the middle of telling one such story when the managed came onto the floor.
Everyone stopped talking once the door hissed opened. Even Skylar trailed off mid-sentence, making Amalie turn around to see who was coming in. The millers exchanged nervous glances, and wondered if they had all managed to some how miss the bell that told them to get back to work. It didn't seem likely that they all could have missed such a thing, but as the manager drew closer, they all stood.
Since Amalie was the only one standing in front of him, Skylar was able to see the manager when he came around from around the last field and into the slightly larger alley in the back were the machines were stored when not in use. It was only because Amalie was a small girl that he was able to see the miller walking with the manager and see the dark brown eyes he remembered from the time when his Uncle was still alive.
"Rale Hinjin, new first level bioengineering administer to be assigned," the manager said loudly, gesturing to the young man behind him while at the same time pulling a sheet of paper out of the folder in his hand. "Replacing second level bioengineering administrator Emmet Gillihan. Assigned to field 4.07." He paused for a moment, as if anyone would have anything to say in response, then nodded his head once and lead the young man down to his assigned field to code him in for his machine.
No one said anything even after they had left, most too nervous to talk freely with a manager on the floor. Emmet had been transferred after his level had been changed to another floor. It was a good thing for Emmet, and might mean good things for the rest of them. Especially Skylar. He was due for another promotion soon, being one of the oldest in his level. Amalie glanced at him with a small smile, but he didn't see it.
He recognized the new miller. His face had changed somewhat since the last time they had meet, grown older and lost some of the softness of childhood. The sharp features, the sunken eyes, sallow skin. How many times had he thought he had seen that face, only to realize that the eyes were the wrong color, or the nose did not fit what he remembered?
But the other young man gave no sign of recognizing him, as he turned on one heel and followed briskly after the manager. He didn't glance back; his eyes did not linger on Skylar's face as if he too was trying to determine whether or not this was a childhood friend returned yet again. He simply walked away, and Skylar began to doubt what he had at first believed without question. Perhaps he had been fooled again. By all accounts, Réven should still be dead.