“Trust me, buddy. Buy one of these or you’ll regret it. If your license is lost or stolen, everything else you hold dear might go with it.”

Trust him? The shoddily dressed salesman disrupting my quiet, solitary train ride to hawk his hand-sewn protective sleeves? “Wish I had one of these when I was licensed,” he continued. “I thought I was smart by having my license number tattooed on my arm. Thieves weren’t above skinning me to get it.” 

He shoved his forearm under my nose to display his long, pink scar. Even less reason to put any stock in his word. Smart scavengers, such as I, kept their cards in a secret pocket sewn into their coat.

The train groaned to a halt, and as it was my stop, I exited without a word to the pest. His warning that I would be sorry was the closest thing to a “good morning” I was likely to get. He vanished from my mind as soon as I joined the line inching toward the South gate. Casting a hazy shadow over us was one of the many looming towers that held the city of New Heaven above the permanent overcast.

New Heaven wasn’t its official name, but the name given by us living below the clouds, because it was as impossible to enter as the old one. They used to say that sunlight was a privilege. Now they say it’s a myth. Occasionally, a new trash bag drops through the smog like a fresh egg. You had to keep a close eye on where these fell to get first picking at it.

When my turn finally came, I extracted my license from my secret pocket—the only time it ever left my person—so the guard could validate my number. Typing it into his computer he disinterestedly checked my on-file picture. His eyebrow raised and he gave me a double take, because my rhinophyma grew significantly worse since my picture was last updated. Tepidly satisfied, he returned my card and hurried me along through the gate.

Taking out a buggy and lock box from the rental center, I drove into the fields, over hills of brown and grey rot, torn plastic bags, and useless refuse. This path was preferable, because there was no guarantee that seemingly bare earth wasn’t actually sewage until you were stuck in it.

I bussed around until I found some faces I recognized. We weren’t necessarily friends, but I had worked alongside them enough times to trust that they wouldn’t rob me, and working alone was as good as an invitation to robbers. We exchanged half-hearted pleasantries and I got to work.

Selecting an unclaimed bag, I tore and picked through its contents. Plenty of food waste, but nothing salvageable. I tossed aside worthless plastic trinkets, some packing foam, and used tissues. Beneath these I found a few good cans. The scrap metal was worth fifteen cents each. One hundred of these would buy a loaf of bread.

A stained shirt, with no damage beside a hole in the armpit, could be reused. I’d bring it home for myself, but no salvage was permitted to leave the fields. Anyone caught bootlegging lost their license. Any useful thing I gleaned I stashed in my lockbox, secure for me to sell at the official market at end of day.

After a few hours mindlessly sifting, I stumbled upon a tiny box laying under a stack of damp newspapers. I picked it up and discovered that it was clutched in the stiff, grey fingers of a human hand. Still attached to the hand was an arm, and to the arm…

Shocked, I replaced some newspaper over my discovery. Folks fallen from the city above weren’t unheard of. It happened just rarely enough to always make headline news. Some were dismayed jumpers, and others thrown by unknown assailants. My instincts told me to leave it, but curiosity got the better of me. Maybe what was in the box could illuminate why this man fell from New Heaven.

I uncovered the hand again, snatched the box from its grasp, and before anyone could notice, quickly buried the limb in detritus. My eyes widened in surprise as I pried it open and saw the tiny gemstone laying within. I closed my fist around the treasure as quickly as I identified it. Anything this obviously valuable was as good as a target on your back.

A clandestine glance around me reassured me that no eyes were on me. I swiftly shifted the item close to my chest to inspect. It was pristine, cut into the shape of a teardrop, and with a hundred facets that tossed blue glimmers everywhere. This must be the color of sky.

What was I to do? On the white or black market, it could fetch a handsome price, and then I might have enough to start my own business and leave this wretched line of work. Though, it was risky. Whether I turned it in or smuggled it out, it would be contraband, and I would be subjected to an inquiry, my license could be revoked, or perhaps, tried for the original owner’s death. With an obviously established motive, a murder charge could stick.

Despite the calculated risk, temptation won in the end. Though I couldn’t possibly withstand the consequences, I also couldn’t bring myself to part with the little jewel, if only to possess a treasure all my own. With a flick of the wrist, I stashed it in my secret coat pocket behind my license.

Closing time, and I drove my buggy to the markets. Even though the gem remained with me, I earned enough selling everything else to pay for a hot supper. When the guard passed his hand over my heart, it suspended beating as his suspicious fingers felt something under the fabric. I coolly informed him it was my license, and recognizing the size and shape, totally missing the tear-shaped trinket beneath, he nodded to let me through.

I took a seat on the homebound train and gave the gemstone a clandestine pinch through my coat. The fellow next to me broadcast a bitter grimace. My stomach sank until I realized who it was. He’d received a fresh black eye and broken nose since this morning, but it was the hawker from before.

We locked eyes for an excruciating minute, until the train jostled to motion. Recognition filled his good eye and he chuckled, displaying a sad smile absent several teeth. At last, he sighed, “Some folks just can’t appreciate what it means to lose something precious.”

Josh Berliner is a young adult sci fi/fantasy author from Ludington, Michigan. In 2015, he earned his Bachelor's in Applied Art Degree from Central Michigan University and in 2019 his Computer Information Systems Associate's from Schoolcraft College. His first novel, Cryptid Currency, was published in April of this 2025.