Sifting Through Things

Flakes of white lazily drifted in the wind. Overcast weather gave the cold a stronger bite, but inside the shop the heater gave off just enough warmth.

It was Thursday now. A little more than a week had passed since Neph had come knocking. Since then, things had fallen back into a steady rhythm—not comfortable, but as much as it could be. Zephyr had talked a few friends into keeping tabs on Neph and made a few preparations: an emergency drill in case he ever showed up unexpectantly and a few security guidelines.

They'd also brought Minerva into the loop, and she'd agreed to deliver containers directly to Third Chances, dropping in personally for conversation and tea. It helped break the guilt Audra felt for causing this entire mess in the first place, even if only a little.

She tried her best not to add to the stress with her own angst though, especially given Zephyr's mood recently. She'd caught him staring into blank space way more often or zoning out during work. Instead, she spent her time helping Zeph and distracting herself with work. Such as their current job: retrofitting an ancient gasoline-powered car.

With a grunt, she strained her bionic to hammer in a side panel. It responded way more jerkily than usual—something she would need to look at later—but eventually she managed.

Zephyr followed up her work with a few fastened bolts.

"Alright, good job. That should do it for this door."

He stood from his crouching position, dusted his hands off, then stretched.

"5:30pm. Hm, it's getting pretty late, isn't it?"

"Late? What do you mean? The sun is still out. I can keep going—"

"Tomorrow. No point in burning of us out. We already have enough stress as is," he replied, walking to the small sink in the back.

"Erm, roger that…"

Audra eyed Zephyr as suds bubbled in the basin. It was subtle, but melancholy clung to his every movement. She wanted to help out more, but what could she even do? Tell him to stop being sad? That would be rich coming from her.

All she could do now was wait.

She shook her head and examined the car, trying not to let her mind wander to darker places again.

The exterior was painted black, with a small patch of sealed rust—or patina as Zeph liked to call it—centered on the hood. It was a TLX from the late 2010s, a luxury vehicle that had been somewhat popular back in its day. It'd clearly seen better times, but it was in good condition considering its age.

She gave it a walk around and traced her hand over the surface's smooth curves and contours. It reminded her of the one her father used to have, though his had been a classic 2024 model.

For a moment her eyes closed and she was back there, AC tousling her hair while listening to antique rock.

"Seems like you've taken a liking to the old gal," Zephyr said.

Audra slowly nodded she returned to reality.

"How could I not? I mean, sure, it's old, but it's got a lot of character, unlike the newer models that all look the same."

Zephyr dried his hands off and shrugged, gesturing at the chassis.

"When this was first released, people probably thought it didn't look any different than the others. But… yeah, it does have a bit of soul, doesn't it?"

"Hah. You totally get it! Like, I wonder what the person who originally bought it was like. Did they use it to commute to their job? Or was it their weekend car?"

"You seem to bring up these types of hypotheticals a lot."

"Yeah, well I guess it's something of a hobby for me—to try and get a picture of the past. Used to do it all the time with the antiques in the shop—learn their stories."

"Figuring out stories for things…?"

His eyes glazed over, somberness trailing in toward the end.

"Zeph…? You alright?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, just uh, remembered something."

"What is it?"

"My wife used to do something similar. Was part of her job. Rubbed off on Callie too, though she never had the chance to follow in her footsteps."

He bit his tongue once his brain caught up.

"Erm, sorry for rambling—just ignore that."

Wife? Callie? Curiosity spiked in Audra. But before she could ask, Zephyr had moved on, pulling out a small card from a nearby drawer.

"What do you think about this thing then, Detective Audra?"

Audra palmed it curiously as he handed it over, her mind still half-stuck on what he'd said, though it didn't seem like he would elaborate any further right now.

It was a keycard with a magnetic strip on one side and the number '217' written on the other. It had a few scratches on the front and a very worn appearance.

"A hotel card probably. No logo though. Where's it from?"

"No clue. Found that jammed into a salvaged smart washer a few years ago. I got a bunch of similar things in other boxes… You uh, want to take a look at them?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Who else would I be asking?"

"O-oh. Um, sure—if you don't mind that is."

"Hyper, lemme grab some then. Wait a sec."

He walked to a shelf and pulled out a cardboard box as in a daze, before gingerly making his way back and presented it. Inside were a whole ton of things: coins, a couple of old pins, an empty lighter in the shape of a gun, and a pair of smart glasses.

"Here we are. Just some junk that found their way into the machines."

Her eyes widened. "Junk?! Are you actually dumb?"

"W-what's with the reaction?"

"Sorry… it's just not often that you're so blatantly wrong. See those coins? I saw at least one with a desirable mint date. The smart glasses are valuable too—sapphire polymer glass from the looks of the tint. These were top-of-the-line models back when they were new."

Zephyr's brow raised, still recovering from her enthusiasm.

"I'm surprised you know so much about this stuff."

"You're not the only one full of surprises, Zeph. Like this thing!"

Audra picked up one of the pins, a circular metal badge with a picture of a stylized bird—probably a dove—surrounded by a wreath of olive branches. The design was intricate and painted in bright colors.

"By the sheen and the feel, it's definitely early 21st century—the way the metal's aged is a dead tell. Maybe the 2020s or 2030s? It was definitely worn a ton judging by the scratches on the back. Probably a peace group or something given the symbology."

Zeph stared blankly as she flipped it over in her hands.

"…You know, you'd probably make for a pretty good historian."

She blinked, surprised by the off-handed comment. "Me? I just like looking at old things and trying to understand how they came to be here."

"Yeah, the things that historians do. You've got a knack for finding little details that others might miss."

The sincerity in his voice wasn't lost on her.

"…You're not joking, are you?"

"Definitely not. You've got the patience to sit down and study something until you understand it completely. That's a valuable trait to have."

Self-consciousness soaked her heart for a spell. Her mother had said similar things, and her father had always encouraged her interest in history. Still, she'd never really considered herself having a 'knack' for it.

"Erm… thanks, Zeph."

"Of course. I'm telling you, Audra, you should consider majoring in history. I'm sure you'd be hyper at it."

"Isn't university expensive though?"

"Public ones aren't—first four years are free here. Remember, you're not in the States anymore. As ironic as the name implies, the Bygone isn't stuck a few centuries behind."

"I guess that's an option then. Still… I dunno. Seems like a lot of trouble. I'd probably end up getting bored and dropping out. I don't even know what good a degree in history would do."

"You'd be surprised. With the right training, you could become a curator at a museum, an archivist, maybe even a professor to continue the loop."

"Ew." Audra bit her lip. "I'd rather not be an academic."

Zephyr stifled a laugh. "Pft, that's almost exactly how she reacted. I still remember the way she cringed at being called a 'scholar.'"

He suddenly lost momentum, fading to pained silence.

"Damn it. Why is still so hard to talk about her…? Erm. I should probably be making dinner… Fried rice fine with you?"

"We already had fried rice for breakfast, but sure. I'm more interested in what were you saying—"

"You're right. Can't be doing the same thing all the time. I'll make something else then."

"H-hold on. That wasn't the point I was trying to make. You were saying stuff about—"

"No. It's fine. How about pasta? Maybe something with red sauce? Chicken parmesan over rigatoni sound good?"

"Sure? But seriously, Zeph. What were you trying to say? Tell me, please."

He hesitated before gesturing at the cramped shelf.

"Sorry. I just… Damn it. Look, I'll clarify stuff once I'm back. It's just… dinner may take me a while. In the meantime, could you help me look through some of these items?"

"…You want me to sort through this whole shelf? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Yes I do, and you'll see. It'll be easier this way."

"Easier? Come on, Zeph. Just be straight with me!"

But he walked away, footsteps echoing off the workshop floor.

"You're good at piecing stories together, and I still don't have the strength to tell you firsthand."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Worry and the awkwardness lingered—she still had so many questions. Though if what Zephyr said was any indication…

She turned her attention to the boxes.

There was a lot to work through here and perhaps some answers.

"Well… better get started, I guess."

***

Audra spent the next hour sorting through trinkets, picking over each item carefully. She'd inspect it, immerse herself in an imagined history, then rinse and repeat, jotting notes as boxes emptied into stories. By this point, she'd reached the last item—an electric fan—though she hadn't gotten any real clues about what ulterior motive Zephyr was trying to accomplish with this.

She focused again on the fan. Her bionic clinked against well-worn metal, moving it into the light.

"So… how did you get here?"

Obviously, there was no response—items couldn't talk—so rhetorical transitioned to fantastical.

Audra closed her eyes, picturing the person that'd owned it before. Their face, their clothes, the way they walked and talked. How normal were they? How did they live?

A young woman her age was what she decided on.

She lazed into Audra's mind in a tank top and shorts, doing her best to escape the summer heat. Her fan blasted on its highest setting. It vibrated from effort, fluttering blonde hair. Complaints droned on to someone on the other end of a phone, and every once in a while, she would stop to take a sip of soda, cold enough to drip condensation down the sides of the glass.

A sigh escaped Audra as the scene drifted away and she reclined into the softness of her chair.

These stories were mostly baseless. Nothing more than fantasies borne of an overactive imagination. But it was fun, nonetheless, to think of them and their implications. Was a whole heck better than letting anxiety get to her at least—this way her imagination didn't make her chest ache.

She glanced in the direction of the kitchen and craned her ears to listen to Zeph's progress. The sound of pots and pans clanged together, and a savory smell wafted through the air, but it still didn't seem like he was done.

Standing up, she stretched her arms wide and yawned loudly, exhausted by the extent of her mental exercise. Well, that was everything. It was probably best to put it all away—

*thunk*

She tensed as her bionics spazzed out and smacked some unfortunate paperweight to the ground

"Great~" she deadpanned, pounding it with her good hand. It twitched back into place, glitching out one more time in protest.

"Sheesh. This should be getting better, not worse. Maybe I should—wait, what's that?

As she bent down to recover the fallen weight, she spotted a dust-covered container she'd somehow missed.

"'Old Junk?'"

She tugged it out and undid the latch, exposing three things: a stuffed rabbit, a sunflower pendant, and a thick journal, all swaddled in a blanket.

Audra frowned hard. They looked way too personal, not just some random stuff from the scrapyard. Was this what Zeph had hinted at?

She tentatively reached in and took the book out, opening the weathered cover with care.

The name 'Ash' was written dead center.