Welcome to Gaia! ::

The city is in layers.

At the top lie the working class, laboring under the heat of the sun, catering to the whim of those hiding beneath them. Many races exist here, as the poverty makes things such as prejudice vanish almost completely. These are the people that provide for everyone else, though with little for themselves. This is called the First.

The middle and upper classes share a level directly beneath the workers. The Pipeline separates them, a magnificent mess of brass and copper pipes. It is densely packed, so much so that there are only a few areas where people can pass through. A special pass is needed to use these entrances, as they are used mostly for the transport of goods. Usually, the middle & upper classes do not work, but have one family member that does so in the bottommost level. This is called the Second.

The final level is that of the specialized laborers. These are the people that keep the six great Generators running, which supply power to the rest of the city. There are smaller generators throughout the city should the Great Six fail, but this has never happened. Even if it did, the problem would not be severe. It is mostly utilities and buildings that are connected, as everything else is powered by their own steam engines. This is called the Third.

Eris watched silently as her father worked, swinging her dainty legs over the great void below the railing upon which she sat. As an engineer, her father spent most of his time deep in the bowels of the Fourth Generator, so she would often join him at work to spend time with him. A robotic boy stood next to him, handing him tools and such as they were needed. Every few hours or so, the boy would stop mid-motion, and her father would sigh, remove a coin from his pocket, and insert it into the slot in his chest. The boy would resume any action he'd been performing as though nothing had happened. Often, when they went home, he would simply be left in whatever position he last shut down in. Eris thought it was sad, but there was nothing she could really do about it. She hopped down as her father stood up and stretched, a sign that it was time to go.

She walked down the spiraling metal mesh of the walkway, glancing at the robot. She couldn't remember his name, but he was starting to slow, and would soon halt. Her father had walked away to talk to some of his colleagues, and while he wasn't looking, she dug into her pocket and found a handful of change. Quickly, she started slipping the coins in his slot. If her father saw her, she'd no doubt be punished. She had been told on many occasions never to touch him, never to touch anything in the Generator. She finished inserting the coins and patted the robot-boy's head, turning to join her father, when her arm was grabbed and she was spun around. She found herself looking into the deep blue of mechanical eyes, peering out from under shaggy blond hair. She wanted to scream, but couldn't.

He looked at her, desperation in his expression, and whispered "Help me."

She calmed immediately. She didn't know why, but she wanted to help him, she honestly did. She looked to see if her father was watching again, then pulled the boy along the other side of the walkway and out the door leading to the rest of the Third.