Faint strands of moonlight slip through the clouded sky, illuminating the streets in a dim pale light. Pockets of mist filled air glow warmly around the street lamps, the soup-like haze blocking out the view of one street corner from the next.
I tug at my jacket as I shuffle down the street unsteadily, the thick fog making it hard to find my footing on the uneven footpath. The thin and cheap coat does little to keep out the cold, the empty street evidencing the effect of the sudden chill. Warm and comforting lights from within nearby buildings, the evening still young enough for those willing to brave the weather to get a drink or catch up with friends.
Pouting a little as I pass one of my favorite haunts I continue my dejected shuffling, the cheap two-minute cup noodles jostling in the flimsy bag in my hands as they bounce against my leg. Money had become tighter and tighter over the past few months, as it typically did over the holiday season, leading to a more quiet and dull life at home.
I'm snapped from my line of thought as I come face to face with a bus stop advertisement, a pained grimace spreading over my lips as I stumble before slamming into the plexiglass screen. The smiling face on the poster behind the graffitied pane does little to dull my frustration, my eyes darting over the advert I knew all too well at this point.
Two pictures rest side by side, both featuring the same young blonde woman. The left shows her with messy hair in her living room, her legs bent and apparently struggling to keep her chubby frame balanced as she stands on her tip toes. The right image shows the same woman, her build toned and slender, as she stands with perfect confidence in the center stage of a ballet recital.
Based on her appearance it was doubtful even a year had passed between the two images, though the images could have merely be edited to appear closer together in time. Beneath there feet rests the company logo, accompanied by a website and phone number for inquiries.
Carry on a Legacy
Essence-tials
The discovery of 'essence' had been both one of biggest flops and the greatest revivals in recent memory. Ingrained deep within everyone was found to be some great and nigh intangible substance, something innate and nearly undetectable that carried...something.
When first discovered it was thought to be akin to the soul by some, or a mere aberration in technical readouts by others. Worse yet, nothing could be done with the discovery. Attempts draw it out of the dead or alter it in the living had all failed time after time, and before long the appetite to fund this sort of research soon came to an end.
The field was left to small start-ups and those deeply intrigued by these almost aura-like readings. For years after the discovery innovations were slowly made in the background, from Third-Eye Innovations finding and documenting common patterns in the essence to Applied Meta-Technologies discovering how to condense the essence as a physical substance from 'soon-to-be-dead' animals.
While these discoveries meant little to most people, beyond those who protested the meddling with 'soul' of living being, these companies all soon found themselves bought up and amalgamated under one single banner.
Essence-tials
Research and development was quickly cobbled together in an effort to merge these various disparite discoveries into a single workable product. Something had to be able to be sold or marketed from this new information, from early diagnosis of some kind of 'soul disease' to making some kind of 'soul urn'.
Rumor has it that the real discover was made by accident after one of the interns inhaled a loose wisp of recently collected essence, the young man's brown hair suddenly turning white like the fur of the labs mice. Weirdly enough, only the man had noticed the change immediately while the rest of the lab only realized after his prodigious freak out and after examining the security tapes.
Regardless of the veracity of the story, the race to perfect their latest discovery was on. Soon Essence-tials was offering money to the terminally ill to take part in their experiments, finding it the most ethical way to deal with the 'one-way trip' the condensing procedure required. Before long, essence was being read like a book, stripped down to individual parts, and packaged into small edible capsules.
As news broke of the upcoming product Essence-tials did a whirlwind press tour, bringing out staff that had been modified to show off just what sort of results one could get from a well packed and handled bit of essence. A single pill could change someone's appearance, teach a new language, cure an illness, or even give someone their youth back. However, much of the world was unconvinced. Even with the massive media coverage, the seemingly reality bending and perception warping effects made making any sort of headway difficult with the wider world and with the price point in the tens to hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars it was easy to see why many chose not to buy into the hype.
Despite this, the company soon saw surging profits. Before long they were forced to ramp up advertising to get people to sign up as 'donors', describing it less as a financial boon but more as ensuring your skills and legacy would live on in another.
While the legitimate side of Essence-tials was out of reach of the layman or even the relatively wealth, a seedy underbelly soon formed. Known as 'Edible Essence', these cheap knock off were far from legal considering how they were acquired.
The condensation of essence was a relatively simple procedure, assuming one had all the required equipment as most hospitals did. Once there was a market for the knock-off product those eager to make a buck and without much in the way of morals were soon putting people through the process without much of an option to say no.
While these bundles of essence were simple enough to get with the help of these greedy angels of death the splitting technology was far harder to come by. How exactly Essence-tials did it was a closely guarded secret, unweaving a person's entire history and separating the strands into identifiable patterns. In comparison, 'edible essence' makers often could only identifiable one or two traits with imprecise equipment. These dealers would simply carve away what they could, leaving large sections and strands stuck to the main product and requiring a larger capsule to store it all.
While at first they had thought it would work much like the rumor of the first ingestion of essence, the mouse man only getting his new hair, they were flat out wrong. Before long 'edible essence' became well known for side effects from changes in height, weight, and even race or sex soon following their ingestion. However, there was little the victims of these unintended side-effects could do once all was said and done. Who would they go to? Who would even believe them? All they could really do is complain about it online, generating more and more rumors about the illicit products.
Much like the official product, the underground market grew and grew as it leveraged the cheaper price point to full effect. It wasn't long before crackdowns started world-wide, making acquiring and moving essence harder and harder until it was all but impossible.
As I pass by towering apartment block after towering apartment block I hear a loud rattling and crashing from a nearby lane way. Despite my better judgement my curiosity gets to me, causing me to hunch down as I slip up close to the brick corner.
Poking my head around I watch as a figure looms in the pale dim moonlight, their face obscured as much of their lumbering frame is painted in shadow. Huffing and grumbling the man pulls and throws the various garbage cans around the alley, emptying out their contents either in a fit of deranged rage or in some frantic search.
"Fuck..." he grumbles, his voice rough and hoarse as he pants from exertion. "She said she but it in the fucking bin, where the fuck did she..."
The panicked searching does not go unnoticed however, the sound of footsteps soon reaching both myself and the stranger as he suddenly perks up. His towering physique whips around towards me, the thought of him noticing my prying gaze causing me to stumble back around the corner in a panic.
I wait for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest as I question whether he saw me. Suddenly a blur erupts from the lane way quickly pivoting right before zagging left across the road and down into another lane way. The pounding footfalls that had alerted him are soon upon me as well, the sight of two men clutching badges in plain clothes quickly bearing down on me. One of them pauses before me, looking me up and down as his gaze falls to my grocery bag., the other younger man whipping his head around in search of their target.
"Did you..." the officer in front of me begins to ask, the man in his early thirties speaking with a powerful sense of authority.
"That way..." I practically croak out, pointing to the second lane way. "He went..."
I don't even have time to finish my sentence as the younger of the two officers bolts towards the alley, the older man taking a deep breath.
"Thanks, stay there..." he barely manages to wheeze out before breaking into a sprint, pushing himself to the limit as he tries to catch up to his partner.
As the two police slip from view I simply slump to the ground, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. My mind races as thoughts ranging from whether I was going to be in trouble to whether the man saw my face blitz their way through my brain. Despite the fear and anxiety my mind soon turns to another thought...what had the man been looking for?
Swallowing hard I slowly bring myself to my shaking and unsteady legs. With shambling and nervous steps I creep into the alley, looking around at the mess the stranger had made of the various overflowing garbage cans that had lined the wall. My eyes dart around, thinking back to what he had said.
"... Bin... Bin?..." I mutter under my breath, quickly falling to the same conclusion he had. "I'm not pawing through..." I continue, grimacing at the sight of the rotting vegetable matter pouring out of an overturn garbage can before my eyes fall to the dumpster siting by the street at the other side of the alley.
Inching closer I squint through the fog, my eyes going wide as I notice the sign on the side.
Emptied First Sunday of the Month
"That's..." I muse, my footfalls growing faster as I approach the dumpster. As I get within reach I give it a little tap, the giant bin ringing like a hollow drum. Slowly my gaze turns to the chains, the thick metal bands that often kept these things closed, only to find them severed.
A grin spreads across my lips in a eureka moment. I drop my bag and reach up to the top of the dumpster with one hand and into my pocket to get my phone with another, eager to confirm my guess of the mysterious hiding place and to call in the tip in the hopes of some sort of reward.
However, as I look inside my grin falls away as my jaw goes slack and my eyes go wide. I slide my phone back into my pocket as I spy a...
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