09-18-2013, 02:39 PM
Pops crackled through Jensen’s apartment. He frowned and leaned around the shower curtain to observe the damage. Yeah, the whole place was dark. He hung his head and rivulets of water streamed down his face. He had seconds before-
There it was.
The water turned ice cold.
He yelped and quickly fumbled with the knobs to shut down the streaming torture stabbing the front of his body. The hot water tank was electric, and when it came to electricity, the Ascendancy wasted none. Which meant even the ghettos were required to have tankless water heaters. Texas had no such laws. Natural gas fired traditional tanks were the norm back home; the state left homeowners with the freedom to make such decisions. That, and, gas was cheaper than electricity.
The remains of soap and wash coursed down the drain, and Jensen stared at the shadows of his feet. What I’d give for barbecue right now.
With a sigh, he stretched out into the chilly air for a towel, snagged the closest one, and managed to get out of the shower without falling and breaking his neck. The bathroom was a tight squeeze to be sure, but busting his head on the porcelain sink was not his preferred activity for the morning.
Of course this meant a trip to the basement. Again. Though it was probably best to not go down in but a towel. Digging around the basement buck naked and dripping wet probably sent the wrong kind of signals, after all. And it’d be cold.
So, with wet hair dripping droplets from the ends of every curl, the undershirt he’d tugged on quickly pebbled with water spots across both shoulders. At this time of morning he was unlikely to run into anyone, at least anyone who’d give him a second look. It's not like he needed a suit and tie to flip a breaker. Good thing, too. He didn't even own a suit anymore.
He bypassed the elevator doors in favor of the stairs. Which was simply prudent planning. The inspection papers were so old on that thing that the date had rubbed off. Which was not a good sign of safety. The cables were probably all chewed to twine by rats, too, Our Father feeds the birds of the air as well as the rats of the ghetto. He smiled to himself as the verse from Matthew came to mind. At least the rats had something to eat.
Speaking of eating, his stomach rumbled, a mini- thunder in the darkness as he reached the basement.
The space stank of mildew and rat droppings, and probably feces from a much larger animal as well. Dogs he told himself, heart sinking at the thought of homeless that had burrowed their way into these corridors to escape the elements. It was the duty of the church to care for the needy, but the church’s presence was thin at best in Moscow. Then again, he’d lifted no hand in aid either. Who was he to judge?
Shone by the light of his flashlight, the breakers were unguarded by man or beast. He flipped open the first panel and leaned in close to seek out blown fuses. Droplets from the shower streamed tiny rivers down his neck, continually soaked up by a now soggy collar.
There it was.
The water turned ice cold.
He yelped and quickly fumbled with the knobs to shut down the streaming torture stabbing the front of his body. The hot water tank was electric, and when it came to electricity, the Ascendancy wasted none. Which meant even the ghettos were required to have tankless water heaters. Texas had no such laws. Natural gas fired traditional tanks were the norm back home; the state left homeowners with the freedom to make such decisions. That, and, gas was cheaper than electricity.
The remains of soap and wash coursed down the drain, and Jensen stared at the shadows of his feet. What I’d give for barbecue right now.
With a sigh, he stretched out into the chilly air for a towel, snagged the closest one, and managed to get out of the shower without falling and breaking his neck. The bathroom was a tight squeeze to be sure, but busting his head on the porcelain sink was not his preferred activity for the morning.
Of course this meant a trip to the basement. Again. Though it was probably best to not go down in but a towel. Digging around the basement buck naked and dripping wet probably sent the wrong kind of signals, after all. And it’d be cold.
So, with wet hair dripping droplets from the ends of every curl, the undershirt he’d tugged on quickly pebbled with water spots across both shoulders. At this time of morning he was unlikely to run into anyone, at least anyone who’d give him a second look. It's not like he needed a suit and tie to flip a breaker. Good thing, too. He didn't even own a suit anymore.
He bypassed the elevator doors in favor of the stairs. Which was simply prudent planning. The inspection papers were so old on that thing that the date had rubbed off. Which was not a good sign of safety. The cables were probably all chewed to twine by rats, too, Our Father feeds the birds of the air as well as the rats of the ghetto. He smiled to himself as the verse from Matthew came to mind. At least the rats had something to eat.
Speaking of eating, his stomach rumbled, a mini- thunder in the darkness as he reached the basement.
The space stank of mildew and rat droppings, and probably feces from a much larger animal as well. Dogs he told himself, heart sinking at the thought of homeless that had burrowed their way into these corridors to escape the elements. It was the duty of the church to care for the needy, but the church’s presence was thin at best in Moscow. Then again, he’d lifted no hand in aid either. Who was he to judge?
Shone by the light of his flashlight, the breakers were unguarded by man or beast. He flipped open the first panel and leaned in close to seek out blown fuses. Droplets from the shower streamed tiny rivers down his neck, continually soaked up by a now soggy collar.