The Ember-Grid Metropolis.
The thick, sooty exhaust pumping from thousands of vents across the Ember-Grid Metropolis was not the only thing that blackened the sky. It was the shadow of industry, the shadow of law, and the shadow of an unspoken agreement: men would turn the gears, and in return, the things hidden deep within the steam and mist would remain silent. This agreement was policed by the Church of Steam Theocracy, whose leaders, clad in intricate brass fittings and copper gauntlets, held sway over everything from the factories to the universities.
Kai-Lin Finch never considered the agreement. He only considered the rent and providing for his younger sister.
The shrill whistle of a distant steam train interlocked with the wheezing hiss of a faulty pressure valve right outside their window. Kai-Lin bolted awake. He left his narrow cot in their cramped room on the fourth floor of an old brick tenement in the North Kiln district. The familiar scent of hot oil, coal dust, and dampness filled the air.
He moved to the small steam stove to boil water. In this district, hot water was supplied directly from the subterranean steam grid, but it always carried a metallic, coppery taste.
Across the room, his younger sister, Lily, sixteen, was still asleep, her head burrowed beneath a thick woolen blanket. Kai-Lin did not wake her. He knew how much Lily hated the early morning whistles.
He put on his worn, brown leather coat and fastened the leather neck-cord his older brother, Jay, had sent years ago. Jay, the elusive elder brother now working in the Upper Sprawl, sent a monetary remittance every month to keep them afloat. It was a lifeline, but Kai-Lin did not want to rely on it forever.
He had earned his degree in Steam Mechanical Engineering two months prior—graduating with top honours from the Royal Steam Institute. But graduation was merely a beginning. Jobs were reserved for the elite or those with specific connections to the Church.
He descended the gloomy stairwell. The lower floors smelled worse and sounded louder, filled with the groaning of neighbours' boilers, the muffled shouts of a brief argument, and the sputter of an ancient steam radio broadcasting the morning news:
"...His Eminence has decreed that all subterranean steam systems in the Eastern District must now fall under the direct supervision of the Church of the Sacred Veins. None but the rank-D clergy are authorized to handle the Aether Sludge seeping from the steam seams..."
Kai-Lin paid little attention. Aether Sludge was the Church's blanket term for the unknown substances that sometimes oozed from the deep—a slick, shimmering gunk that common folk knew to be poisonous. To engineers like Kai-Lin, they were simply maintenance problems.
He stepped out onto the main street of North Kiln. People were rushing: oil-stained workers, goggle-wearing steam riders, and the occasional patrol of the Church's armoured brass guard.
Kai-Lin was heading towards the Forge Iron and Gears Factory. Today, he had a real job interview, secured through one of his old professors. He had studied hard for this.
The factory office was strangely quiet when he arrived. A tired old doorman sat behind a desk.
"Interview?" the doorman asked, his voice dry.
Kai-Lin nodded. "Kai-Lin Finch, Engineering."
The doorman apathetically handed him a dirty wooden plaque, machine-stamped with the word: "WAIT."
Kai-Lin took the plaque and sat on a cold metal bench. He waited, listening to the rhythmic, maddening clang of the steam hammers from deep within the factory. He waited for the job, the life he intended to build for himself and Lily. He waited for the day he would no longer need his brother Jay's remittances.
Hours later, the Technical Director emerged, his face oily and weary.
"Mr./Ms. Finch?"
"Yes."
The Director took the wooden plaque from Kai-Lin's hand and tossed it aside. He let out a long breath.
"Look, your records are outstanding. Best in class. But... you failed to mention you have no Copper Connection."
The Director meant Church Connection. Kai-Lin stated plainly, "I am a Royal Institute graduate, I have my certification."
"Certification is useless to a boiler, Finch. This factory, all major factories, operate under the Church of the Sacred Veins' purview. The clergy of the Pathway of Science and Industry must oversee every stage. Without a rank-F Clergyman sponsoring you, you will never be authorized to take control of a main boiler. Sorry. Good luck."
The Director walked away, leaving Kai-Lin alone.
Kai-Lin dragged his feet out of the factory. North Kiln was thick with mist—not of humidity, but of fugitive steam and a heavy sulfuric scent.
As he walked, deep beneath his feet, a large, rusty steel pipe fractured. Steam burst out with immense pressure, spewing out some Aether Sludge—a dark, viscous, and metallic-sheened substance that pulsed irregularly under the faint gaslight.
Kai-Lin stopped near the rupture. The engineer in him took over. This was a critical failure. If left unattended, the entire block could blow. The Church of the Sacred Veins clergy usually took days to respond to such a leak.
Kai-Lin glanced around. No one was near. He pulled his leather gloves from his pocket and approached the ruptured pipe. He didn't want to get involved, but he couldn't ignore a major mechanical defect.
As he knelt to inspect the damage, his gloved hand accidentally brushed the Aether Sludge.
It wasn't cold or sickly. In fact, the sludge was warm—peculiarly warm and pulsing—like hot oil that shouldn't be.
Kai-Lin pulled his hand back, but a moment later, a faint sound echoed in his mind, seemingly originating from the depths of the sludge:
"...Flow... Engineer..."
The city whistles, the workers' cries, and the industrial heartbeat of the Ember-Grid all stopped for a single moment. And Kai-Lin Finch, the steam engineer, heard for the first time something that no gear or boiler could ever explain.