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electricopolis-net · 1 month

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S03E06: Life in Exile

Pt. 1: The Town of Refuse

The day after their arrival in Junk Town, the old man known as the Cursebreaker led both Bob Sparker and Percy King to the shoreline. On a hill near the beach was a small, dusty house, though again, like the houses in town, it was made of a combination of wood planks, concrete, sheet metal, and other debris. "This house has been abandoned for quite some time," the Cursebreaker declared. "I'm sure nobody will kick up a fuss if you move in."

Then, he led them to the beach itself. "Junk Town subsists on the waste that floats up here," he explained, motioning with his staff to some of the flotsam washing up on the shore. "Take a look."

Bob crouched down and wedged a tin sign board out of the sand. "Hey, this looks familiar," he said, turning it back and forth. "The Pine Room--wasn't that a bar in Electricopolis? I used to go there before it shut down."

"That's right," said the Cursebreaker, nodding. "And that's not all. Old television tubes, monitors, magazines, plastic bags and old clothes, all kinds of stuff turn up here. And it's all from your fair city in the valley."

Percy stroked his chin, thinking. "Fascinating. I knew some of the companies in town used the underground sea as a dumping ground, but I never realized the currents bore the refuse all the way out here..."

"There's a lot of things you folks don't realize," said the Cursebreaker, turning away from the water. "But there's time for that."

There was a moment of silence. Bob stood up and looked out over the water, shielding his eyes from the sun. It was a cloudy day, but still bright enough to sting his eyes, unfamiliar with the sunlight as they were.

"So...what should we do?" Bob asked. "Just kill time until we go back to town?"

"Oh, you're not going back," said the Cursebreaker matter-of-factly. Bob and Percy turned to stare at him. "Not until the clouds clear."

Not until the clouds clear.

What did he mean by that? Bob tossed and turned, thinking about it. Thankfully, the abandoned house by the shore did have a couple of beds in it, lumpen and worn though they were. It was, as the Cursebreaker had said, better than nothing, but only just.

"I mean, the city's power is shot," Percy explained. "So it probably will be quite some time before that subway's running again. But I don't understand what he meant about the clouds."

"The clouds have always been there, right?" Bob asked.

"As far as I know."

"As far as you know." Bob shot him a pointed look. "You sure you're not hiding anything?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Come on now. We're stuck together, so we may as well trust each other, don't you think?"

"I have a better idea." Bob sat up, restless. "I'm going to get something to eat."

He walked into Junk Town along the road from the beach. Given his gawky, long-nosed appearance, and the fact that he was still wearing a dressy vest, pants, and shoes, the people of the town avoided him and whispered as he walked by. He tried his best to ignore it, and walked up to a food stall.

"Excuse me," he said politely. The smell of grilling fish and hot rice made his mouth water. "Um...do you take cash here?"

"Cash?" said the proprietor. "What do you mean by that?"

"Cash," repeated Bob. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and drew out a couple bills. "Or--I don't imagine you take cards."

The proprietor regarded him with a wary look. "That stuff's no good here," he said. "We don't take that kind of money."

"What do you take?"

"Junk Town tender. Coins, mostly. Barter sometimes, if you got something good to trade." He looked Bob Sparker up and down. "You got anything to trade?"

"Trade?" Bob blinked. He looked down at himself, patting himself down quizzically. "I don't think so."

The man shook his head. "Sorry. No can do. You come back with something good, I'll give you a bowl."

It was the same story everywhere he went--none of the businesses in town took any kind of tender aside from coins, medals, rings, mostly small metal objects that Bob had absolutely none of on hand. Occasionally he would see a customer trade for something larger, like canned food for fresh, or a parcel of cloth for a finished dress. Then he saw a familiar face with a large head of lettuce in his hands, haggling with a nearby shopkeep.

"Hey, it's you," said the farmer, turning away from the shopkeep. "Found yourself a place in town, did you?"

"For what that's worth," Bob complained. "I'm starving, I've got no money, and I can't get anyone to give me the time of day."

The farmer looked at him, then down at the lettuce. "Hmm. I wouldn't mind giving this to you, but I'd need something in return. You sure you don't have anything on you?"

Bob thought. He turned his pockets inside-out. "I've got...my house keys, my phone, my wallet..."

"Lemme see those." The farmer grabbed his house keys and turned them around, admiring them. "Yeah, these'll melt down okay."

Bob grimaced. Well, it's not like I was going home anytime soon, he thought.

The farmer handed him the lettuce. It was surprisingly heavy, and Bob struggled to hold it. "Well! Looks like you're getting the hang of things here in town," said the man, grinning. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Bob arrived back at the house with the lettuce. "Well, look at you," Percy chuckled. "Grew it yourself, did you?"

"I'll have you know I traded for it," said Bob proudly, setting it down on the table. "They don't take cash or cards here, so you gotta trade for everything. They do take coins, though...and keys."

"Interesting." Percy swung his legs off the bed. "We're not going to get much of a meal out of just a head of lettuce, though. You said they take coins?"

"Yeah. You have any?"

"I do." Percy took out a change purse from his pocket and upended it onto the table. A clattering of coins fell out--only about ten or twenty of them, but enough to make a nice little pile. "It's not much by Electricopolis standards, but it might get us a meal out here." He stroked his chin, thinking. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"I have an idea." He scooped the coins back into the purse, set it on the table, and grabbed the lettuce in both hands. "I'll be back soon."

"Hey! That's my lettuce!" Bob yelped, blocking the door. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Are you really that territorial over a vegetable?"

"Mr. King--Percy," Bob replied, exasperated. "I can't believe I have to explain this. You turned everyone in town against me and exiled me just because I didn't want to be under your thumb anymore. If we're gonna stick together--and unfortunately, it sure looks like we are--then you gotta tell me what you're thinking. Preferably it won't involve stealing my stuff."

Percy sighed, maddeningly condescendingly. "It's simple. We keep the coins for a rainy day, and we trade the lettuce up for something more substantial. If we play our cards right, we can get a full meal without dipping into the money at all."

Bob blinked. He considered this. "That's...that makes sense, actually."

"I should hope it does. I am a businessman, after all," Percy said proudly. He paused, thought, then added: "And if it doesn't work out, you can spend the money however you like."

"All right," Bob capitulated, unblocking the door. "Good luck, I guess."

Percy walked back in about half an hour later with some heavy plastic bags in his arms. "Whoa," Bob marveled, watching as he began to empty them onto the table. "What's all that?"

"First, our dinner." Percy set some plastic takeout containers of fish and rice onto the table, followed by some canned vegetables and tinned fish. "Food for later, though it isn't very much, and some utensils. I also found our friend the woodsman, who offered us some wood for the stove. We'll need it."

"Man." Bob sighed heavily. "We're really roughing it, huh?"

Percy nodded. "It's not the accommodations we deserve, but it is what we have. We may as well get used to them."

The accommodations you deserve are behind bars, Bob thought snidely, but held his tongue.

"Also..."

Percy cracked open one of the takeout containers. "I had the cook at the food stall cut up part of that lettuce when I traded it. Since it's the first thing we owned out here, I thought it would be nice to try it after all."

Bob opened his container and looked at his meal. The rice was nestled up to one side of the container, with the fish on another and the cooked, sauced lettuce in the other third. "Huh. It looks good."

Percy handed him a plastic fork, then took the other for himself. They began to eat.

It was delicious. It was absolutely delicious. It was almost more delicious than anything Bob had had in the city, and he'd sampled quite a few dishes, usually on Percy's dime. The fish was tastier than anything you could find from the fisheries in town, and the lettuce was fresh and crispy, not like the sorry, soggy mess that usually came on a burger.

"This...this is exceptional," Percy muttered. "This is quite a meal."

"It's good," Bob choked with emotion. "It...it's really good."

To be continued...

#electricopolis #bob sparker #percy king #story post #story illustration

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electricopolis-net · 2 months

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S03E05: Out of Electricopolis

Bob sat down on the subway seats opposite Percy, looking out the window. There was blackness outside the train, lit up every so often by dim and flickering bulbs. Occasionally he would see a door, but even those began to disappear after a while. The tunnel they were in seemed to stretch for hours.

"How far away is this exit?" Bob murmured.

"Several hundred miles," Percy replied. "It’ll take a while. Maybe you should get some sleep."

"Maybe you should mind your own business."

"There’s no sense being a brat about it." Percy leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

Bob waited, expecting him to say something else, and after a moment, he grudgingly laid down on the subway seats and admitted to himself that the other man was right. He was tired, extremely so, and it wasn’t long before the heaviness of sleep settled on his body.

"Mm…"

Bob’s brow furrowed in his sleep as he fidgeted back and forth. He blinked his eyes open, slowly, holding up a hand over his face. Something felt warm on his face, like an incandescent lightbulb held too close.

He moved his hand away and squeezed his eyes tight. Whatever it was, it was a lot brighter than any lightbulb he’d ever seen…

He shook his head and sat up. Percy was still asleep on the other side of the train. The electric lights in the subway were off, but shafts of dappled light shone in through the windows from outside. The doors were open. Distantly, he could hear the sound of…something. Insects, maybe? Birds?

Bob stood up and peered cautiously out the door. The train had pulled up to a platform, but it wasn’t in the middle of a city or a tunnel. It didn’t even seem to be in the dust bowl of the valley. It was in a clearing in the middle of a forest, with densely clustered trees. But the trees weren’t anything like the stunted, carefully manicured types that were installed in the top tier. These were large and verdant enough to block out most of the sky…and there were hundreds of them, as far as he could see.

He held out a hand to touch a shaft of light, turning his hand back and forth, seeing how it played over his pale skin. "Is that…" he whispered, his mouth dry. "Is that the sun?"

He’d heard tales of it, of course, and in the back of his mind he must have realized that the sun still existed, somewhere; but it just never seemed to matter in the city of Electricopolis, stuck beneath inky-black clouds, his brain concerned only with the limelight of the stage. For a moment, he felt ashamed–and then, excited. What else had he been missing?

Bob sat upright, swung his legs off the subway bench, and then paused. Across from him, Percy King twitched and snored gently. Should he wake him up? The temptation to leave him here was strong, but…there was a good chance Percy knew more about this area than he did.

Bob walked over, bent down next to his boss, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Mr. King," he said, and then added, hesitantly: "Percy."

Percy snorted a little, blinked, and looked over his shoulder at Bob. "Oh…we’ve reached the end, then?"

"Yeah."

"Well." Percy sat up, stretched, and yawned. "I suppose we’d better start walking."

"Walking? Where to?"

"Good question," Percy sighed. "I hadn’t the time to send out surveyors in this area. Let’s hope there’s a settlement or something beyond this forest."

With no other alternative, they began to walk, leaving the subway station in the middle of the clearing.

"So tell me something," Bob said, lifting his shoes up gingerly over a patch of mud and tree roots. "What was your big plan, anyway, staging that blackout?"

"Oh, it wasn’t staged," Percy groaned, pushing a branch out of the way and passing underneath it. "The town’s energy reserves are totally shot, and your silly little festival was the final straw. I simply bent the truth a little to make it seem like I didn’t know beforehand. Petty, I admit, but…"

"That’s not the word I’d use," Bob grunted. "But how were you going to fix the energy crisis?"

"I wasn’t. That’s what the subway was for." Percy stopped to catch his breath, then continued following Bob through the woods. "The town couldn’t have sustained itself for more than a few decades, even if we’d cut power down to its most minimal usage. I began the subway project to devise an escape route from the city to someplace beyond. The forest station was as far as I got, however. It was barely completed before the blackout."

"You’re not telling me you made that whole thing yourself. You must have had workers," Bob pointed out. "So there are still people who know about the subway, right?"

"Of course there are. But it seems to only have had the power to make that one trip…I don’t see how it’ll be of much use to the general populace if it can’t run anymore." Percy shook his head.

Bob glared at him. "Fantastic," he sighed. "Just fantastic." He glanced back over his shoulder, towards the subway station clearing, but couldn’t see it through the thickness of the trees. "Well, so much for best-laid plans. Now I’m stuck in the woods with a guy who tried to throw me to the wolves."

"Better the wolves in town than the wolves without," Percy remarked. He walked past Bob, ducking underneath another branch. "In Electricopolis, they’re just a metaphor, after all. Who knows what’s out here?"

Bob looked after him, blinking.

Hour after hour stretched before them. More than once they had to stop to rest, and their stomachs growled with hunger. Eventually, however, they saw a yellow light through the trees, and they made their way towards it to reveal the edge of the forest.

"Whoa…we made it." Bob squinted into the late afternoon sun as he looked around. The forest opened up onto a large meadow. Not too far away was a cabin with a pile of chopped wood against one side and a tendril of smoke curling from the chimney. "Check it out. Someone lives all the way out here."

"Well, I suppose we’d better make ourselves known, don’t you think?" Percy said, walking towards the cabin. "Maybe we’ll at least get something to eat."

"Is that a good idea?" Bob asked, nervously. "I mean, we don’t know who’s out here…a creepy cabin near the woods…what if it’s like one of those horror movies?"

"Really, we just came from the woods," Percy said, raising a hand to knock at the door. "I think they’d be more scared of us than we are of–"

The door swung open, revealing two large, dark shotgun barrels pointed directly at Percy’s face. It took a moment for him to register what it was, and then he slowly, fearfully, raised his hands, open-palmed.

"Came from the woods, huh?" drawled a voice. Bob and Percy’s gazes followed the length of the shotgun to the figure behind it–a tall and dark-haired man, his skin leathery and hands calloused from a lifetime of hard work under the sun. "Gimme a good reason why I oughtn’t just blow your heads off right here."

"U-uh, um," Percy stammered. "Well."

Bob quickly stepped in front of him, holding his hands up. "Wait, wait," he protested. "You wouldn’t kill two guys for no reason, would you? Imagine the cleanup! The bodies!"

The woodsman thought about this, cocked his head, and lowered his gun. "You make a compelling point," he remarked. "You boys look a mess, but you’re no threat. Too bad for you," he chuckled. "C’mon in. Sit a spell."

Percy gave the man a wary, sidelong glance, then edged his way into the cabin. It was one neatly-kept room, with a fireplace at one end, a stove, a bed, table, and chest of drawers, among other things. Slowly he sat down at the table. His body was tense, but the warmth of the fire made him gradually start to relax. Bob followed, sitting across from him.

"That’s better. Now, who are you folks?" asked the woodsman. "And where the hell did you come from?"

"It’s a bit of a long story," Percy said. "We’re from the city of Electricopolis. Do you know it? The city in the valley?"

"Oh, the cursed city, like those folks in town call it?" replied the woodsman. "Never put much stock in it, myself. I think they’re all a mite superstitious."

"Cursed?" Bob asked. "Why would they say that?"

"Hell, just look at the thing! Juttin’ out above the mountains, all those thick black clouds roilin’ above. Nobody ever goes in, nobody ever comes out." The woodsman set the shotgun up against the wall and busied himself with ladling some soup into a couple of bowls. "They say it’s got a hex on it. I say it’s none of my damn business. You say you’re from there?"

Bob and Percy exchanged glances, trying to figure out exactly how much they should reveal. "Yes," Percy said slowly. "Until things went south. The town ran out of power, you see, and we were…forced to leave."

"Bad luck." The man set the bowls of soup down in front of his guests, and handed them each a carved wooden spoon. "Well, let’s hope there aren’t any more of you folks comin’ in. I don't have enough soup for all of you."

"Just this much is enough. Thanks." Bob accepted the meal gratefully. "Say, you mentioned a town earlier..."

The woodsman jerked his head, indicating a direction away from the cabin. "Junk Town. That's what they call it. It's not far--a mile or two down the road, maybe. The people aren't bad, they're just..." He thought for a moment. "Like I said, superstitious. They might not take too kindly to a couple folks from the cursed city."

"Is there...anywhere else you'd recommend?" Percy asked, extremely politely. "A place called 'Junk Town' is a bit, well..."

"Hah! Awfully picky, aren't ya?" laughed the woodsman, jabbing in Percy's direction with his spoon. "Nope, you're out of luck. Junk Town's up against the coast, and there's nothing else but woods and mountains around it. Too bad," he said. "How'd you get across the mountains, anyway?"

"We went underneath," Percy explained. "On the subway. Well--an underground train."

"An underground train. Too bad you didn't build it in the opposite direction!"

Bob shot Percy a sharp glare. The other man looked away.

---

In the end, the woodsman was able to provide soup and directions, but not a place to stay the night. With the sun beginning to dip low in the sky, Bob and Percy, reluctant companions though they were, headed off together for the town down the road.

The first thing they noticed was the dust. The woods had been dark and dappled with sunlight, and the meadow open and pleasant, but the road they were traveling on now was dusty, and the dust gave everything a somewhat muted quality--not unlike the dust of the valley they'd just left. Still, the environs weren't nearly as barren as the valley had been: for one thing, the plains were lined with neatly-kept crops, which Bob insisted on stopping and looking at.

"This is incredible!" he gushed, crouching down to take a look at a head of lettuce. "Look, it's vegetables! There's so many!"

"They don't grow them with hydroponics out here," Percy mused, looking back and forth. "I guess because they have so much land to spare."

Bob reached out a hand towards the head of lettuce, only to be interrupted by a sharp yell. "Hey!" said a voice. "Get your hands off that!"

Bob scrambled backwards and up to his feet. The farmer came over, walking between the rows of vegetables. He looked to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties perhaps, and sported a five o'clock shadow, a receding hairline, and a round, red nose. He was muscular in a sinewy kind of way, and looked as if he'd spent all his life in the fields. His clothes, a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, were plain and patched from long-term wear.

"Sorry," Bob said, holding his hands up in apology. Thankfully, this man only had a hoe in his hands and not another shotgun. "I didn't know they belonged to anyone."

"You didn't know?" asked the farmer, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He looked the two men up and down. "...Where did you two come from, dressed like that?"

Bob and Percy exchanged another should we tell him?-type glance. "We've come from the city in the valley," Percy ventured carefully. "But we don't mean any harm, and it's just the two of us--"

"The cursed city?" the farmer said, recoiling. He looked around for a moment, then, seeing nobody else around, leaned in. "So people really do live there?"

Bob nodded. "Plenty of 'em. We left because...well, it's a long story..."

"Never mind that." The farmer waved a hand. "I shouldn't even be talking to you right now, but I'll give you a piece of advice. Go down the road into town proper." He pointed down the road that snaked into town. "Go see the folk down there. They'll figure out what to do with you."

"I'm starting to think that'll involve burning us at the stake," Percy groused.

The farmer considered this, then tilted his head. "No, they wouldn't burn you," he declared. "They might breathe in the smoke and get cursed themselves. Anyway, get outta here," he said, halfheartedly jabbing his hoe in the men's direction. "Get!"

---

The second thing they noticed, walking into town, was that the buildings were a ramshackle construction of debris. Planks of wood were nailed to old signs, corrugated sheet metal and tin roofing, and a thousand other things besides. Piping extended from some of the houses, puffing wood smoke into the air as a makeshift chimney. The buildings were clustered together in rows down each street. However, the two visitors barely had time to marvel at the construction before the villagers began to notice them, whispering among each other and casting fearful, yet fascinated, glances at the two.

"Excuse me," Bob said, raising his voice a little. "We're new in town, and, uh--"

"We're looking for a place to spend the night," Percy finished. "Anything will do."

The crowd turned away as the people talked amongst themselves for a moment. Then it parted, revealing a single old man who walked, with swaggering back-and-forth motions, up to the two newcomers.

The old man had a great bushy beard and unkempt hair, and walked with a staff that reached high above his head. The end of the staff was curved in an O shape, and rings of what looked like tin or aluminum jangled from it. He wore an old, faded robe with zigzag markings on the trim, and around his neck hung several odd pieces of board that appeared to be talismans or amulets.

"That's enough, that's enough," the old man said, motioning for the villagers to quiet down with a wave of his hand. He turned to Bob and Percy. "Now, who are you two, exactly?"

"We're travelers," Bob sighed, already weary of explaining. "We're from the city in the valley--but we're not cursed, and it's just the two of us, and--"

The crowd gasped. The old man motioned, again, for them to be calm. "All right, all right, settle down, you lot." He turned back to the two men, extended two fingers, and made the motion of a zigzag arrow to Percy, and then to Bob. "There. You may enter our town now."

"Breaking a curse is that easy, huh?" Bob joked.

The old man laughed. "Well, that remains to be seen. But I'll not have anyone turned away from Junk Town if I can help it. Come," he said, jerking his head towards a direction down the road. "Follow me."

They walked, and walked, and walked some more, until they reached a tent on the outskirts of the town. "I figured you were the mayor or something," Bob remarked, stepping inside. "You don't live in the middle of town?"

"Oh, no," laughed the old man, sitting across from Bob and Percy at a low, round table. "You overestimate my importance. They call me the Cursebreaker," he explained. "Kind of pompous, but I can't argue with it. That is my job, and I do it well."

"A cursebreaker?" Percy said. "Then I suppose you're just the man we need to see. Is there any way we can convince these people to let us stay the night?"

"Oh, well, don't worry about them." The Cursebreaker waved a hand. "You can stay here for the night. They won't kick up a fuss if it's my place." He looked Bob and Percy up and down slyly. "Judging by your finery, I think it won't be up to your usual standards, but..."

"Anything is fine," Bob said tiredly. "Just as long as we can get a break from all this walking. I've never walked so much in my life."

"Then take your time," said the Cursebreaker. He reached down beneath the table and pulled out three drinking glasses and a bottle of what looked like clear alcohol. "You boys want a drink?"

The two men nodded vigorously. The Cursebreaker poured the clear alcohol and offered two of the glasses to them. "What are your names, anyway? Don't think we've been introduced."

"Bob Sparker," said Bob. "Well, it's not my real name, but it's my stage name. I used to be a game show host, so..."

"And I myself am Percy King, ex-president of the Top Tier Electric Company," Percy said.

The Cursebreaker laughed, then held up his own glass. "Well, well! Welcome to Junk Town," he declared. "Bob Sparker and Percy King, may you find rest and recuperation from your long journey."

"Thank you," Bob said politely. Percy simply nodded. The two downed their drinks, then recoiled. "Whoa," Bob said, coughing. "That--that's strong stuff."

"Just the way I like it!" The Cursebreaker barked out a laugh. "Now that you've been properly welcomed, you can rest here for the night. Tomorrow I'll take you to your new dwelling."

"New dwelling?" Bob asked. "What'll that be?"

"Oh, nothing fancy," said the Cursebreaker. "Just an abandoned house near the shore, but it's better than nothing. I'll explain how things work around here, too. But for now, you rest," he said firmly. "Tomorrow's another day."

The tent was barely big enough for two people, let alone three, but Bob scrunched himself up as best he could while Percy laid along one side of the tent and the Cursebreaker snored a foot or so away.

Now that Bob had some time to think, the combined emotions of the past few days were hitting him hard. The exhilaration of his great creative project, the Electric Festival, barely completed before he was blamed for the blackout and run out of town...the despair of being separated from his friends...his anger at the man he now had as a traveling companion...

It was almost too much. Bob buried his head in his hands, trying to stifle a sob, but it wasn't long before he simply fell deep, deep asleep.

The End

#electricopolis #bob sparker #percy king #story post #illustration

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electricopolis-net · 2 months

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Update will be a lil late this week. I'm moving it to next Monday, Feb 26th, as this week has been hectic!

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

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happy valentine's day :^]

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

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S03E04 The Secret Subway

The interior of the train was dusty but not dirty. Actually, except for the dust, it was pristine–the seats were cushioned with soft plastic, and the rest of the train was brushed metal. The walls were bare except for safety instructions and a map, and on the ceiling there was a diagram of the stops on the subway line from its origin to its terminus.

There were only three stops, two close together and the third very far away. The first stop was labeled DIAMOND DISTRICT, the second stop labeled TOP TIER, and the third was simply blank.

“I wonder what that means,” Bob said aloud. “At least we know where it's going next.”

After what felt like an hour, but was, in reality, only a few tense minutes, the train pulled up to the second station. It was another platform much like the first, but with a few seats, some faded maps on the walls, and a thick layer of dust that coated everything.

The doors slid open. Carefully, Bob and Jam glanced around and, finding the station platform empty, stepped out. Just then, there was the sound of quick, almost frantic footsteps, and Margaret King, her curled hair bouncing around her shoulders, tore down the nearby stairs.

“Bob!” she cried out, nearly tackling both of her friends in a hug. “Jam! I was so worried about you two!”

“Margie?” Bob held his friend tight as he struggled to keep his balance. “What’s been going on?”

“It's horrible!” Margie cried out, burying her face in Bob’s hair. “Dad…he’s been…”

There was the sound of footsteps again, slow this time, and methodical. Bob and Jam looked up to see Percy King make his way down the stairs.

Bob opened his mouth, then closed it, completely at a loss for how to address his boss. What should he say? What could he say?

Percy fixed him with a glare, then shook his head. “Not even a word of apology. I expected better from you, Bob.”

“Apology?” Jam exclaimed. “You're the one that sent the cops after us! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do–”

Percy turned his head, pointedly ignoring Jam. “Do you realize how taxing it is to constantly be bailing you out of trouble? And I’m rewarded for it by having you desert me. And taking my daughter and Jam with you, too…” He sighed heavily. “I suppose I was wrong about you.”

“I-I…” Bob croaked. “I don't know what you mean.”

Margie pulled away and wiped her eyes. Percy continued to talk. “Do you remember the night we met, at the winter ball?” he said to Bob. “Your speech was excellent. It was sincere. You were different from the others, who were content to praise me, to use any affection they could garner, only to jump ship when they were able to…”

He sighed heavily, shudderingly. For a moment he seemed overcome with emotion–and then he shut it down, his voice becoming steady and almost monotone. “I suppose all that time changes a man. You really were like the others, in the end.”

Bob’s stomach lurched. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to grovel at his boss’s–ex-boss’s–feet, to kiss his shoes, to apologize for even having thought about leaving the comfort of Top Tier.

But why had he wanted to leave in the first place?

If nothing changes, then people are going to keep getting hurt. I’m...I’m going to keep hurting people.

Bob blinked. He grew furious, his hands curling into fists. “Is that what this is about?” he yelled. “You sent the whole city after me because I wanted to stop putting people in a televised woodchipper? I wanted to give back to this town!” he continued. “I wanted to do something positive for a change!”

“You were throwing away everything I’d given you!” Percy retorted. “Margaret,” he said, exasperated. “You talk to him. Make him understand.”

Bob looked to Margie, who had her arms wrapped around herself as if from cold. She was staring at the ground, unable to speak.

“In any case,” Percy said, looking away again, “I have one last gift to offer you, Bob. A severance package, if you will, for my once-upon-a-time top earner.” He gestured toward the train. “Take it. It runs on auxiliary power–the last the city has. It's the only way out of town.”

“Out of town?” Bob echoed. “What are you talking about?”

“Just that. An exit beyond the valley and the mountains.” Percy descended the rest of the steps and placed a hand on Margaret's shoulder. She covered her face with her hands and tried to stifle a sob. “Or would you prefer to stay in town and face mob justice?” He smiled thinly, his gaze still fixed on Bob Sparker. “I fear even my magnanimity might not be enough to save you this time.”

“So that’s it, then.” Bob’s voice carried a mix of confusion, anger, and despair. “After everything.”

“Yes,” Percy said. “After everything. Will you stay or will you go?”

The answer was quick, unhesitating, and it even surprised Sparker himself to hear it come out of his mouth. “I’m leaving,” he said. “It’s not like there's much of a choice.” He looked over at Margaret and Jam, both looking deeply unsettled. “What about you guys? You coming with?”

“I…give me a moment. Please.” Margaret reached out and placed a hand on Jam’s, pulling him aside. “Can we have a couple minutes to talk by ourselves?”

“Of course,” Percy said, his voice irritatingly soothing, as he patted Margaret’s shoulder with a smile. “Take your time. But not too much time,” he said. “The train leaves in five minutes.”

Bob watched the two of them turn their backs and begin whispering, then glanced over at Percy King. The man took out a cigarette case, tapped a cigarette on the silver, and placed it into his mouth. He lit it and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the air.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Bob remarked. It was a stupid thing to say, but he didn’t want to say anything else.

“Only when I’m stressed,” Percy said. “It’s not good for my health.”

“You know what else isn’t good for your health?” Bob said, deadpan. “Shocking yourself on-air twice a day, five days a week.”

“Good thing you had the best health insurance in town.” Percy blew another plume of smoke. “I really did care for you, you know. And you were so good at your job.”

Bob glared. That was the worst part–Percy was right. He had been good at his job. Excellent, in fact, and it had brought him a satisfaction that made everything else feel hollow in comparison. Even after striking out on his own with working on the Electric Festival, some part of him still yearned for that approval.

Bob’s eyes widened. “Wait a second,” he said. “I get it now. There’s no difference, is there?”

“Hmm?”

“Paulina Sweet,” Bob pointed out. “She bent over backwards for her boss, and he still threw her away when she didn’t perform. And when she tried to win him back, she just ended up in jail.” His voice quavered. “There’s no difference between Top Tier and Rubyred, is there? It’s just a game,” he realized. “A game where people like you play chess with people like me.”

A look of deep offense crossed Percy’s face. He thought about it for a moment, then tilted his head, and his expression became more muted. “I suppose that’s one way to think about it.”

At that moment, Margaret and Jam came back. Margaret clasped Jam’s hand in her own, nervously. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet Bob’s gaze. “I think Jam and I have to stay in the city. There’s a lot of work we’re going to have to do.”

Bob blinked. “What? You’re–you’re sending me off by myself? After all we’ve been through?”

“We’ll take the subway out and bring you back as soon as we can, okay?” Jam said. “As soon as it’s safe for you to come back. We’ll make sure you get home.”

Margaret nodded. “I promise.”

Bob glanced back and forth between the two of them. His expression hardened. “You know what? Fine.” As the subway doors slid open with a ding, he stepped onto the train. “Enjoy your life in town. I’ll make sure to write.”

Margaret said nothing. She kept her eyes on Bob, then slid her gaze over to her father, who was still smoking. Then she let go of Jam’s hand and shoved Percy in the back with both hands, sending him stumbling into Bob and knocking them both down to the floor of the subway car.

Percy struggled to his feet as the doors closed. Through the vertical windows, Bob could see her twist something on the outside of the door with both hands–probably an emergency lock. “Margaret!” Percy shouted, pounding on the door, trying to force it aside. “What are you doing?”

Bob jumped up and nearly shoved him aside, trying to open the door. “Don’t leave me alone with him!” he yelled. “Margie, are you crazy?”

She placed her palm on the window. “I know what he’s done. I have to tell everyone, but I don’t want them to hurt him,” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t let that happen. I’m going to fix this, I swear. Jam’s going to help me.”

Bob could put his hand over hers for but a moment before the train sped up and she had to pull away. “Please! You’re my best friend,” Margaret called out, running towards the end of the platform. “Please take care of my father!”

Her voice disappeared into the darkness. Percy dragged himself to the nearest seat and collapsed into it, moaning as he rubbed at his face. “Margaret,” he whispered. “Margaret, my girl…”

Bob stood there, his hand on the window of the door, as the subway headed out of Electricopolis.

#electricopolis #story update #bob sparker #j. jam #(spoilers ahead)#percy king #margaret king #story illustration

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

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redraw of an older piece i drew back in 2022!! done mostly bc i Actually know how to draw bob now LMAO

original's right here if ur curious :^]

#did i reblog this already? i forget #fanart #it owns!!! thanks bee!!!

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

Text

There will be an update tomorrow at 7pm ET! After that, I may switch from doing every-two-weeks to, tentatively, every-three-weeks. Maybe every four if I REALLY end up struggling. I've run out of my buffer in terms of both text and images so I definitely need to slow down.

As always, I hope you enjoy what I have in store!

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

Text

messing around in flipnote studio 3d

#electricopolis #bob sparker #illustration

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electricopolis-net · 3 months

Text

S03E03 The Blackout

“Bob Sparker?” announced one of the cops through a megaphone. “We’d like you to come with us.”

Bob looked back and forth, holding up his hands nervously. “What’s this all about?” he asked, raising his voice.

“You’re under arrest,” pronounced the officer, “for organizing without a permit, blocking the flow of traffic, and theft of electricity from the Top Tier Electric Company. This blackout is your fault,” he said. “You must disperse immediately!”

“But Mr. King said he would take care of the permits and all that,” Bob protested. “He said everything would be fine!”

Jam threw out a hand to stop him from taking a step forward. “Don’t,” he said. “Something’s not right here. They showed up way too quickly for this to be anything but a setup.”

“But…” Bob lowered his hands a bit, visibly agitated. He looked back and forth, from Jam to the cops and then back again–and suddenly he bolted, running across the expanse towards the exit.

“Don’t move!” shouted another cop, and Bob yelped as a rubber bullet careened off the bricks near his heels. He and Jam scrambled up and over the wrought-iron gate that surrounded the park, then kept running into the streets that made up the Diamond District.

The storefronts and neon signs were dark, and the only light came from the headlights of the cars parked along the street. The dense crowds that populated the upper level of the town were running from the park, and Bob grabbed Jam’s hand as they disappeared into the crowd and turned a corner into a darkened alleyway.

The two paused there, panting and heaving, as the sirens of the police cars grew louder and then began to fade away. “What gives?” Bob asked helplessly, his hands on his knees as he struggled to calm himself. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Jam panted, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them in his pocket. “I can’t see a thing now that all the lights are out. Why would Mr. King send the cops after you, anyway? He doesn’t need to do that.”

“That’s probably why he called Margie back,” Bob lamented. “He probably didn’t want her getting hurt…”

Jam looked up as the red and blue klaxons of a police car passed by the alleyway. “We gotta keep going,” he said furtively, grabbing Bob’s hand again. “This way.”

The two wended their way through the streets and alleys of the city. The only light came from the headlights of the cars stopped haphazardly in the streets, their doors open, their drivers vacated. Distantly, the two could hear the sound of broken windows and yelling; but here, for some reason, there was an almost eerie emptiness.

“I thought it was a little weird that Mr. King would sign off on something like this,” Jam said, mostly to try to keep his thoughts in order, “but I never thought he would send the cops after you, or stage something like a blackout. Do you think he had it planned the whole time?”

“I don't know,” Bob lamented. He collapsed, sitting on a nearby milk crate and rubbing the bridge of his sizeable nose. “I can't…imagine him like that. He always treated me like family,” he said, almost in tears. “Do you think there's some kind of mistake? Maybe the police…”

“He’s always had them in his pocket,” Jam explained. “Come on, we have to keep going. There's no telling what will happen if they catch us.”

There was a wail of a distant siren, and both men pressed themselves against the shadows of the alleyway. The sound grew closer, and Jam relaxed as he saw that it was an ambulance that passed, and not a cop car.

But after a moment, the ambulance reversed, then stopped. A man hopped out of the back, in a first responder’s uniform.

“Hey,” he said, waving to Bob and Jam. “Psst. This way!”

Bob and Jam looked at each other, frozen. The man looked this way and that, then drew closer into the alleyway. He tilted the helmet up and lifted his phone, the light illuminating a face Bob had seen before.

“Sam!” Bob exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I quit my job down below. I’m a first responder now.” He turned to wave to the driver of the ambulance, and it sped off. He turned back to Bob and Jam. “Listen, you have to get out of here. There are riots breaking out all over the top tier of the city, and the talking heads on the radio are blaming you for them.”

“Blaming me?” Bob echoed. “Why?”

“Top Tier Electric is saying you staged the festival as a way to nuke the town’s power grid after you got suspended,” Sam explained. “But that doesn't make any sense…at least, not to me.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Come on,” he said urgently. “I know a way you can get below.”

Sam Gale led the other two to a set of doors that led downwards, like the doors of a storm cellar. “These are all over the city,” he said. “They lead to the maintenance tunnels. You should be okay down there, at least for now.”

Jam started to descend the stairs, and Bob grabbed the handrail and started to walk behind him. He looked up to see Sam Gale kneeling down on the street above. “You're not coming with us?” Bob asked.

“I can't,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “I still need to do my job up here. But I knew I had to find you. Listen,” he said, leaning in. “I’m not surprised Top Tier is trying to pin this on you. I used to work on the generators myself. Us workers know that there have been some problems for a long time now.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know for sure. But the folks in the lower tiers have gone without power before,” Sam said. “I think something really wrong is happening. Be careful.”

“Okay. We will.” Bob looked down, then back up at Sam Gale. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem.” He grinned. “Stay safe, Bob.”

The two descended into the darkness, with only the lights of their cell phones to guide them down the stairs and ladders that led below. At one point, Bob leaned against the bottom rungs of one of the ladders, panting. “Sorry, I gotta take a break,” he said. “I’m not really used to all this running and climbing.”

“It's fine.” Jam knelt down and pulled out a pocket radio. “I wanted to turn this on and have a listen, anyway. What on earth are they saying about you?”

He turned on the radio. It crackled, then came to life. “...Residents are encouraged to stay in their homes,” said a voice. “The police are currently engaged in suppressing looting in the Pearl District and searching for the fugitive Robert Bianchi, better known by his stage name Bob Sparker.”

Bob looked over, wiping his brow. His white hair clung to his forehead.

“Sparker spearheaded the ill-advised Electric Festival without authorization from Top Tier, according to representatives from the company,” continued the reporter. “The draw in the city’s resources has devastated the town, leading to tonight's blackout. Power is not expected to be restored until at least 72 hours from now…”

“72 hours?” Bob yelped. “That's crazy!”

“That doesn't make any sense,” Jam said, frustrated. “The festival barely got off the ground before it went dark.”

“Nothing about this makes any sense,” Bob groaned. “I think we're gonna have to find Mr. King to get an explanation.” He lifted his head, listening. “Hey…do you hear that? That rumbling sound, like an earthquake?”

Jam tilted his head. There was a distant groaning, followed by a faint shaking sensation. “I don't think it's an earthquake,” he said. “It keeps happening–I noticed it earlier too. It sounds too regular. It almost sounds like…a train?”

The rumbling grew louder and less distant as they kept descending. They walked through tunnels for what felt like hours, each twist and turn drawing them closer to the source of the sound. The tunnels were dark and damp, and Jam complained about it more than once–but mostly just to hear himself talk. Bob was unusually, uncharacteristically, silent.

Finally, they rounded a corner and, through a door, reached an odd area with a long, flat concrete platform next to a length of track. “Hey, there's a light here,” Jam remarked, indicating a flickering bulb above him. “Why's that?”

“No idea.” Bob leaned over, peering down the track, shining his cell phone’s flashlight beam as far as it would go. “What is this place? It reminds me of a bus station.”

“A train station,” Jam corrected. “I’ve heard of these. I didn't think there were any in Electricopolis, though. I thought they were only used a long time ago, in some other places, far away.”

“This whole thing feels like a ghost story,” Bob remarked. “Hey, there’s that sound again…”

This time, the rumbling grew louder and louder. Two dots of light appeared at the end of the darkness, then grew larger as they drew near. Bob leaned over, and Jam yanked him back as a subway train pulled in and slowly came to a halt. After a moment, its doors slid open.

The two glanced at each other. Wordlessly, they stepped on board.

#electricopolis #bob sparker #j. jam #story post #illustration

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electricopolis-net · 4 months

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Tentative new schedule! The next Electricopolis story will be posted on Friday, January 19th @ 7pm ET, and new updates will be posted every two weeks afterwards until Season 3 concludes. There are some big changes in store, so I hope you enjoy!

#announcement

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electricopolis-net · 4 months

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S03E02: Sparker Reborn (Part 2)

2. The Electric Festival

"It'll be great," Bob gushed, his eyes sparkling. "I really appreciate all your help, you guys."

"Aw, it's no problem!" Margie laughed. The three of them--Bob, Margie and Jam--were sitting in Jam's studio, sharing some celebratory drinks. "I'm just glad you don't hate me anymore."

"I never hated you," Bob sighed. "I was just...hating myself, mostly. I just feel terrible for everything I've done..."

"You apologized enough, you don't have to do it again," Jam said, smiling a rare smile. "But I'm with Margie here. It's good to see you back to your old self, Bob."

"In more ways than one." Margie closed her notebook, sighing. "To be honest, I'm glad you're gonna leave the company. It feels more and more like Dad is...I'm not sure. But something seems to be making him really testy, lately. I have the feeling something bad is going to happen."

"I'm just lucky he gave me permission to put on the Electric Festival in the first place. I really thought he wasn't going to." Bob took a sip from a glass he was holding, then placed it back on the nearby coffee table. "He didn't seem all that happy to see me."

"Well, you did kind of...cause a headache for him," Jam said through nervously gritted teeth. "With the whole attempted murder thing."

"Gee, you know, I feel just awful about that," Bob lamented, shaking his head. "That's part of why I wanna do this. Pay my debts, you know. This city's been good to me. Better than it has any right to be. So I wanna give something back, instead of just taking."

Jam tilted his head. "You know, I'm kind of impressed," he remarked. "I didn't think you'd ever be so...introspective about this."

"Well, it's the start of a whole new me!" Bob exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart. "No more exploitation. From now on, I'm going to do the best I can to change Electricopolis!"

"Well, you might have a hard time with that," Margie offered. "The city's been around a long time, and so has Top Tier. I'd be surprised if you were able to make a dent in the television network market share in your first year."

"I know. But it's better than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself. And besides," Bob said, "isn't it better to try than not to try?"

Margie lifted up her drink. "Hear, hear."

Jam nodded. "Well, you know we've got your back. To be honest, I'm surprised I didn't come up with the idea myself," he remarked. "A festival for the arts and crafts scene in Electricopolis is a really cool idea."

"I'd be lying if I said I weren't thinking of you when I came up with it," Bob laughed. "I was like, 'What would Jam do in this kind of situation?'"

"Really?" Jam blinked behind his glasses. "I'm surprised. I guess all my lecturing really did get through your skull."

The three of them laughed, together.

---

"We'll aim for the end of the year, okay?" Bob suggested. "That should give us more than enough time to get the word out about the Festival and the Electric Park."

"Sounds good," Margie said. "I'll fund it and arrange the spaces for the artists' booths."

"I'll liaison with the artists and help spread the word," Jam offered. "I think you're gonna have a hell of a turnout."

"And I'll present!" Bob said. "And manage. And I have a few designs for some of the floats already," he continued, "and I have a few artists I'm reaching out to for the rest..."

"Careful," Jam said gently yet sternly. "You don't want to spread yourself too thin. You gotta learn to moderate yourself, instead of doing an all-or-nothing kind of thing."

Bob sighed. "You're right. I'm just feeling so..." He shook his hands out, as if drying them. "So energized! Honestly, I never imagined I could get this kind of jolt from anything other than frying my brains out!"

The morning news--well, what passed for morning in Electricopolis--interviewed Bob near the end of the year. Wrapped up in a scarf and hat, Bob gestured to some of the artisans' booths as he talked into the microphone.

"We have folks from every corner of the city," he said loudly, talking over the din of the crowd. "Over here are some carpenters from down on 1-2, best work you've ever seen! And of course, we have goldsmiths from right here in the top tier, too. I wanted to arrange it so that it wasn't just folks from their own parts of the town clumped up together. This way, everyone can mingle and maybe learn something new about each other."

"That's very ambitious," said the anchor. "So when can we attend the Electric Festival?"

"It'll be held right before the New Year!" Bob explained. "From December 29th to the 31st. We're going to kick it off with a pop-up light show with all kinds of floats and machines!"

"Wow!" said the other presenter, oohing and aahing. "An Electric Park, is that right?"

"That's right," Bob responded, nodding and grinning. "It'll be a spectacle like nobody in Electricopolis has ever seen!"

---

The Electric Festival was shaping up to be a roaring success. Bob, Margie and Jam worked around the clock to process and set up every artisan and craftsperson who wanted a space, and the sheer breadth and depth of the works provided was stunning, especially to Bob, who, until he met Alice Lang, never met a piece of art he felt he actually understood. Paintings, embroidery, sculptures, even seemingly ordinary pieces like ironwork chairs and tables seemed to contain a startling new form of life. It was as if he had never actually thought about the way the world worked before. In turn, that seemed to ignite some creative part of his brain, something he hadn't truly exercised since he had been a young performer on the streets of the top tier.

He took a meticulous, almost obsessive interest in the design and operation of the Electric Park. And, Bob Sparker still being Bob Sparker, too much was never enough: more bulbs, more neon, more moving joints and multicolored lights began to take shape on the floats, bit by bit by bit.

"I dunno if the dragon is going to work out," Margie said, squinting up at the still-in-progress machine. "That whole ‘breathing sparks' thing might be kind of, you know, a fire hazard?"

"A fire hazard? I guess you're right," Bob sighed. "I guess we could go with something else. Maybe an arrangement of bulbs that change color?"

"We're already using over 500,000 bulbs," Jam pointed out. "How about you go in a different direction? We have a ton of leftover fabric. Why not use some of the reds and yellows, cut ‘em up, put a fan in the head of the dragon."

"Hey, that's great!" Bob exclaimed, looping an arm around Jam's shoulders and giving him an enthusiastic side-hug. "See, this is going to be incredible!"

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Jam stammered, adjusting his glasses. "There's still something we haven't decided on yet."

"What's that?"

"How are we actually going to power all these machines?"

"Oh, Mr. King signed off on all that a while ago," Bob said, waving a hand. "I figured we would just plug ‘em in. I warned him it would be a little heavy on the power bill."

Margie looked over at him. Her brow seemed to furrow for a moment, and then she shrugged. "Well, if Dad says it's okay, I guess it's okay."

Bob looked in the mirror, turning his face this way and that. There were a few new lines there, a few new wrinkles that brought a slightly craggy quality to his face; but more than that, there was a glow, a warmth that bloomed underneath the skin. He smiled.

There was a polite knock at his door. "Hey, Margie just called," Jam said politely. "She's been called away by her dad for some reason or another. She says she'll meet up with us once it's taken care of. You wanna get going?"

"Sure, sure." Bob turned away from the mirror and finished tying his necktie. It was a muted green satin tie, bought for him by his mother when he had first signed on with Zap! Entertainment. He always wore it when he was nervous--he considered it a good luck charm. "I'll be done in just a second."

He smoothed it down against his chest, admiring himself in the mirror. "All right," he whispered to his reflection. "It's showtime."

---

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bob pronounced, "thank you for coming out in this cold weather! Before we start, I just want to say a couple words about the Electric Festival..."

He nodded over to his companion. "It wouldn't have been possible without this guy! Jam arranged contact with almost all the vendors and artisans here at the Festival. A big round of applause, ladies and gents!"

The crowd applauded vigorously. Jam bowed his head down, trying to hide a smile.

"I'd also like to thank Margaret King for funding to put on the Festival in the first place," Bob continued. "She couldn't be here right away, sadly, but I'm sure she'll turn up. And now, without further ado, let's kick this thing off!"

Bob tucked the microphone under his arm and knelt down to grab the two large electrical plugs--one male, one female--that lay on the ground in front of him. "Enjoy the Electric Festival!" he exclaimed, and shoved the plugs together.

The Electric Park lit up in a million different lights, drawing a gasp and astonished applause from the crowd. The floats began to move back and forth, the colored fabric waving. Bob and Jam exchanged relieved grins.

"I guess that's that," Jam sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "A job well done, right?"

"That's right," Bob agreed, clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. "A job well--"

The lights flickered, and then there was a vmmm sound as the floats powered down and dimmed completely. There was a startled silence among the crowd.

Bob pulled the plugs apart. He pushed them back together. Again. Nothing. He fumbled with the microphone, bringing it back up to his face. "One second, folks," he stammered. "I'm just as confused as you are."

Jam tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned. "My cell phone's got no reception,"he said. "I think the cell towers went dark too."

"The cell towers? Then the whole city must have lost power," Bob replied. Sure enough, in the distance, the bright lights of the storefronts were going black.

There was a loud murmur that rippled through the crowd. "What is this?"asked someone near the front. "Is this part of the festival?"

Bob motioned for them to settle down. "It looks like there's been a power outage," he explained. "It's not just us. I'm sure if we all stay calm--"

He was cut off by the wail of sirens. A crowd of police cars pulled up to the entrance to the park. A megaphone crackled. "Bob Sparker?" announced one of the cops through the megaphone. "We'd like you to come with us."

#electricopolis #bob sparker #margaret king #j. jam #sparker reborn #story update

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electricopolis-net · 4 months

Text

There Will Be Another Update Tonight at 7pm ET so I am reblogging this. Did you see this

S03E02: Sparker Reborn (Part 1)

1. A Brand New Bob

Six months into Bob Sparker's suspension...

"Mr. King!"

Percy looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, intently studying a report. It took him a moment to even recognize the voice--he hadn't heard the caw of his ex-number one primetime earner for at least six months.

"Bob?" He said, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Bob Sparker looked just as taken aback as Percy was. "Well--I mean--" he sputtered. He was holding what looked like a large easel, with something wrapped in canvas tucked under one arm, and he began to busily set it up. "You said I could come to you if I needed anything, right?"

Percy searched his mind. Yes, he thought, I probably did say that at one point. "Of course," he replied. "But I'm actually rather busy at the--"

"This'll take two seconds, I promise!" Bob set up the easel and propped the cloth-wrapped object on it. "I have great news for you, boss. Just great."

With a flourish he drew the cloth off of the canvas. Upon it was a brilliantly rendered oil painting of a dark mountain, looking much like the kind found in the range that ringed Electric Valley. Behind the mountain was a halo of light in flourishing reds, yellows and pinks. It took a long moment for Percy to process that what he was seeing was a sunrise.

"And this is...?" he ventured.

"This," Bob proclaimed, patting the canvas affectionately, "is the future. My future." He drew in a breath. "Mr. King, I'm leaving the company."

Percy stopped, considered this, and laced his fingers together. "To become an artist?"

"Oh, no!" Bob laughed. "No, no, I got this from Alice Lang. She's doing great, by the way, thanks for helping her out. No, this is gonna be the guiding star for my new television network!"

The room was silent for a moment. "Your...excuse me?" Percy said, tilting his head. "Your what now?"

"My new television network," Bob repeated, puffing his chest out with pride. "It's gonna be something new, something completely different. One with humanity, where we bring people up instead of running 'em through a meat grinder. No offense," he added quickly. "I did like being the meat grinder guy."

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up a moment." Percy sat back, rubbing his temples with one hand and tapping his pen on the desk with the other. "So you're leaving the company...and founding a television network all by yourself?"

"Not by myself, no." Bob's smile grew wider. "Jam's coming with me. He's gonna be my talent scout. He knows everything about everything when it comes to up-and-coming artists and musicians! Margaret's helping, too, when she's able to, plus she's footing the bill. And Miss Lang is going to be our first profile. Best of all, it'll be free!"

"Free?" Percy repeated. "How on earth--"

Bob pulled out a small notebook and flipped through it. "Public television," he explained. "If we can get approval from the municipal government, the whole thing'll be funded by taxpayers. Television by the people, for the people," he announced, beaming with pride.

Percy sat back in his swivel chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Public television? Please," he scoffed. "Bob, you're far too good for that. Give it six more months and I'll have you back on the air. The producers at Zap! Entertainment actually sent me a pitch this morning," he remarked, turning his attention back to the layers of documents on his desk. "Something about 'a hundred contestants enter, one leaves...'"

"Mr. King."

Percy looked up. Bob stood in front of him, his hands clasped nervously together. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me," he said. "Really, I...I do. But this is something I have to do. For myself, and for Electricopolis."

"Then what do you need me for? It sounds as if you have everything all planned out."

"Well, to kick off our programming, we were thinking of throwing a festival," Bob ventured carefully. "A celebration of art and artisans from across the city, that kind of thing. We would provide space and lighting, of course. And we could have an Electric Park at the end of it all, a huge light show right in the middle of the top tier!" he explained, slowly becoming more and more animated. "I was hoping, you know, as a going-away present--that you might sign off on it, that's all. It might be kind of hefty on the power bill."

Percy considered this. "I suppose I'll...see what I can do."

"Thanks so much, Mr. King!" Bob grabbed Percy's hand in his own and pumped it gratefully. "You've always believed in me, even when nobody else did--and I hope to make you proud!"

Percy blinked again, stared at him, almost baffled--and then his face settled back into his trademark wan smile. "Of course," he said soothingly. "Of course."

Bob wrapped up his painting and practically skipped out the door, leaving Percy in his office, alone, with a throbbing headache. He turned away towards the window, leaving the half-read report on the town's energy crisis lying on top of his desk.

The city was far underneath him, the clouds not so high above. The Top Tier CEO's office was at the very summit of the town, just about--the only thing taller was the broadcast tower. This town was his, and for the longest time it had ticked along in perfect harmony with itself, every part an integral member of a well-oiled machine.

Every schoolchild knew the history of the town, though perhaps not all of it. Electricopolis was founded centuries ago after a colossal meteorite had landed in the middle of a mountain range. Though difficult to get to from the outside world, the area proved to now be full of precious hydrocarbons that could be extracted and processed into fuel. A mad rush for the territory began, during which various countries--and corporations--launched expedition after expedition to access the valley.

Many of the expeditions failed. But one particular company succeeded in seizing the territory, and began to construct a city for the purpose of exporting the hydrocarbon fuel. But when the colony proved to become rich enough to buy out its parent corporation, the city became truly self-sufficient: fresh water was created from the hydrogen molecules below and the oxygen in the air, and some of the simpler hydrocarbons turned into nitrate-rich fertilizers for the city's hydroponic farms. In short, everything they needed was here.

And so the outside world became nothing but a distraction. Centuries on, Electricopolis had cut off all ties with the outside and turned inward, focusing only on itself, concerned only with itself. But there were only so many resources left below the surface of the earth. And every day the fuel was running lower, and the brownouts became longer and longer...

Percy drummed his fingers against his desktop.

Surely there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

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electricopolis-net · 4 months

Text

S03E02: Sparker Reborn (Part 1)

1. A Brand New Bob

Six months into Bob Sparker's suspension...

"Mr. King!"

"Bob?" He said, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

Percy searched his mind. Yes, he thought, I probably did say that at one point. "Of course," he replied. "But I'm actually rather busy at the--"

"This'll take two seconds, I promise!" Bob set up the easel and propped the cloth-wrapped object on it. "I have great news for you, boss. Just great."

"And this is...?" he ventured.

"This," Bob proclaimed, patting the canvas affectionately, "is the future. My future." He drew in a breath. "Mr. King, I'm leaving the company."

Percy stopped, considered this, and laced his fingers together. "To become an artist?"

"Oh, no!" Bob laughed. "No, no, I got this from Alice Lang. She's doing great, by the way, thanks for helping her out. No, this is gonna be the guiding star for my new television network!"

The room was silent for a moment. "Your...excuse me?" Percy said, tilting his head. "Your what now?"

"Free?" Percy repeated. "How on earth--"

"Mr. King."

"Then what do you need me for? It sounds as if you have everything all planned out."

Percy considered this. "I suppose I'll...see what I can do."

"Thanks so much, Mr. King!" Bob grabbed Percy's hand in his own and pumped it gratefully. "You've always believed in me, even when nobody else did--and I hope to make you proud!"

Percy blinked again, stared at him, almost baffled--and then his face settled back into his trademark wan smile. "Of course," he said soothingly. "Of course."

Percy drummed his fingers against his desktop.

Surely there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

#electricopolis #story post #bob sparker #percy king (electricopolis)#sparker reborn

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