A Long Way's Down

> “You know, there's a lotta easier ways to kill youself,” said the old man. Boom looked up for a second. The light in the labyrinth (what little there was) had turned a dirty gray and painted the patchwork city in muted colors. A squall must be brewing outside, thought Boom. If he wanted to jump over the edge today, he'd have to go soon.

“There's rope,” said Boom, selecting a relatively clear bottle from the peddler's cardboard box.

“Ah, so you're hangin' youself, then.”

“No, it's... it's not actually going to go around my neck,” said Boom, “it's more like a harness.”

The shine seller was silent for a minute, “Mighty inefficient way of suicide then.”

Boom sighed, this guy was touched in the head or something. Or just dense.

“So how much for the bottle?”

“Well, dunno. You don't got any extra names about you?” asked the alcohol peddler hopefully. Names were good currency in the city.

“No, none that are good,” said Boom flatly, looking down so he could open the bottle.

“Bits?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Boom, digging into his pocket. He pressed some of the little metal coins into the man's hand. He could hear a quiet rumble below him and the sound of soft rain above. Small rivulets were starting to run down the street. The storm was apparently moving vertically, going up the floating island.

The man waddled off, on to drier or more fruitful grounds. Boom took a swig of the alcohol and made a face. He never really liked the taste of strong liquor. Boom screwed the cap back on and started to jog off towards the edge.

>Boom tied the last of the grease pencils to his wrist and tightened the goggles. He started paying out the rope as he walked towards the edge.

“Now, as always, if I don't come up in two hours, start pulling me back.”

The junker nodded and walked over to the edge. They were going to launch from about three-quarters down the island and the drop was a sheer vertical fall. Far below the storm was still slowly roaring along, like a boiling pot in slow motion. Rain fell softly from above. Boom rechecked his harness, goggles, and the various cups and tins strapped to his arms and legs. Satisfied, he pulled his hat down hard over his ears and stood at the edge, facing back towards the city and the junker.

“Hey, got a present for ya,” said Boom as he held out the bottle of whiskey. The junker took it reverently and nodded in appreciation. Boom didn't know what it did with the alcohol, it couldn't drink it, but it was all good, he guessed. As long as it was happy.

Boom grabbed his papers tight to his chest and took one more look down into the sky, a slight look of dismay on his face.

“Maybe an hour anna half.”

The junker nodded again and, with a certain amount of friendly violence, pushed Boom over the edge. It watched as the man fell, screaming. The junker sat down on the ground and brought out a small trashy looking paperback, titled He Came in the Night, and began to read, giggling occasionally.