SandScript 2023 [Digital Exclusive]

transporter, the small vehicle puffing steam
into the air. The sleek brass shell gleamed,
its benches freshly shined, and the metallic
shutters were wide open to let in the fresh
morning air. It was only the second one Bea had
seen, and it hissed and burbled as the doors slid
shut and it started rolling down the street.
They rode together in silence, Roger staring
down at his hands, and Bea doing her best
to not look too impressed at the sights that
whizzed past them.
“So uh, Beatrice is it? A pleasure to meet
you.” Roger asked half-heartedly, clearly not
expecting her to respond.
“No. Bea.” She barked, staring him down,
almost as though she was challenging him.
The sound of her voice had shocked him,
surprising him with the brashness with which
she spoke. His head snapped up and he stuck
out his hand for a polite handshake.
“Oh, Bea. Sure! Sure, no problem. It’s a
good nickname. I like it.” Roger’s hand was
suspended in the air between them, hanging
like a question. Bea stared at it for a long few
seconds, inspecting it. His hands looked soft,
as though he had never worked a day in his
life, and his nails were neatly trimmed and
clean. Carefully, she took his hand and gave it
an awkward squeeze, suddenly self-conscious
of her own hands. They were calloused and
rough, and despite the thorough scrubbing
she had given them earlier, her fingers still bore
years of soot and grease stains.
The transporter hissed to a stop, the doors
sliding open to reveal a courtyard to yet
another all too fancy building. An attendant
emerged from an archway, bowing to Roger
and all but ignoring Bea as they exited the
vehicle. It puttered to life and slid away back
down the street.
“Mister Weatherby, I hope you will find the
accommodations suitable. I know they are
not nearly as fine as the Weatherby estate, but
please inform us if anything is amiss.”
Bea could see Roger pause before
clearing his throat.
“Yes uh, thank you. I’m sure it shall be fine.”
He gave Bea a nervous smile.
The attendant gestured for them to follow
him into the large building. The interior
was spotless, with all the most fashionable
furniture and colors in each room.
“While you train with the new tech you
and your, uh, partner, will be housed here
in the dormitories. All Underfolk are in the
west wing. You and your fellow scholars are
housed in the north wing in private rooms.”
The attendant led them through the ornate
entryway, past a gilded marble staircase and
down a hall. Many of the doors were cracked
open enough for Bea to catch a glimpse inside.
One in particular that caught her eye was the
entrance to the kitchen: warmth radiated from
the open archway and the smell of freshly
baked rolls and spiced, roasted meats caused
her mouth to water.
“Lunch shall be served soon. Feel free to
wander the dormitory, or to retire to your room
until mealtime. For your partner, she can find
a proper change of clothes in the provided
footlocker in the west wing.”
After another deep bow, the attendant turned
on his heel, heading back towards the entrance
to the building. Together they stood in the large
hall, neither one quite sure what to do. Roger
decided to be the one to break the silence.
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