The manual bellows made a rhythmic wheezing sound that filled the small space of the scrap trench. Han pulled the rusted handle with a steady motion. He did not rush. Rushing led to wasted energy and wasted energy meant his lungs would burn through his remaining oxygen faster than necessary.
The air in the Exhaustion District was not just gas. It felt like a physical weight. It pressed against Han's chest with the consistency of thick silt. For a Flesh Grade human, every breath was an active struggle. His lungs lacked the reinforced lining found in the higher Material Grades. He was soft and the world was exceptionally hard.
Han sifted through a mound of oxidized iron dust. The gray powder coated his hands and filled the cracks of his dry skin. He used a small mesh screen to separate the larger fragments from the useless silt. Most of what he found was trash. There were shards of broken casing and fragments of structural bolts that had been discarded by the platforms above. None of it carried enough value to buy a single minute of life.
He checked the gauge on his left forearm. The Lung Meter was a circular device made of tarnished brass. The needle hovered near the bottom of the red zone. A digital display below the needle showed a remaining balance of twelve minutes.
That was his reality. Life in the Rust Rim was a series of transactions. If he failed to find enough minerals to pay the Oxygen Tax, the meter would hit zero. At that point, the device would release a paralyzing toxin into his bloodstream. It was a clean and efficient way for the High Council to remove those who were no longer productive.
His fingers brushed against something solid. It didn't have the brittle texture of the surrounding rust. He pulled it out and wiped the dust away with his thumb. It was a shard of low-grade copper. It was no larger than a fingernail, but it had a distinct metallic glint.
Han felt a small spark of relief. This shard was worth roughly forty minutes of breathable air. It was a reprieve. He placed the copper into a small leather pouch at his waist and began the long walk toward the communal air kiosk.
The path through the Exhaustion District was a labyrinth of industrial waste. Colossal mountains of scrap rose on either side of the narrow trails. Most of the scenery was composed of the things the Upper Districts no longer wanted. There were hollowed-out hulls of transport ships and piles of twisted rebar that looked like the ribcages of dead giants.
He passed other scavengers along the way. No one spoke. Words were expensive when every breath cost credits. They moved like ghosts through the orange fog. Their eyes were sunken and their movements were sluggish. They were all waiting for the same thing. They were waiting for a find that would finally allow them to stop digging.
The air kiosk stood at the center of the district. It was a monolithic structure of blackened steel that hummed with a low and constant vibration. A line of six people stood before the terminal. Han took his place at the end. He kept his head down and watched his feet. In the Exhaustion District, eye contact was often viewed as a challenge or a plea for help. He had nothing to give and even less to defend.
When it was his turn, Han stepped up to the terminal. He placed the copper shard into the intake slot. A series of mechanical clicks echoed inside the machine as it verified the weight and purity of the mineral.
A digital voice spoke from a hidden speaker. The sound was cold and lacked any trace of human emotion.
"Mineral verified. Industrial Copper grade. Forty-two percent purity. Forty-five credits issued."
Han watched the display on his Lung Meter. The needle jumped out of the red zone and settled into the lower half of the green. Forty-five minutes. It was enough to get him through his next shift. He felt the cold hiss of recycled oxygen as the kiosk's dispenser filled his mask's small reservoir. The air tasted of stale chemicals and old metal. It was far from fresh, but it was enough to keep his heart beating.
He stepped away from the kiosk and looked up. High above the fog, he could see the faint and shimmering lights of the Upper Districts. Those platforms were clean and bright. The people living there did not have to sift through trash to earn their next breath. They were made of Stone and Iron. They were the masters of the strata.
Then he looked down. Past the edge of the Rust Rim, there was only the gray void of the Heavy Atmosphere. It was a swirling ocean of clouds and toxic gases that hid the lower platforms from view. Most people believed that falling into that void was the end of existence.
Han gripped the handle of his sifting screen. He was at the absolute bottom of the world. He was a Flesh Grade human with no prospects and no future. The only way left for him to go was down. He just didn't know how to survive the fall yet.