The sun was but a red hazy orb in the sky, and yet the oppressive heat was no less diminished. Clouds drifted sparsely in the sky, granting occasional respite from the beating rays. Jacob peered out at the rugged landscape before him through the scratched and worn glazs of his helmet. He would shake his head as his oxygen guage tipped into the yellow.

"Time to get back to the shop."

He taps the comm on his wrist computer with a dingy, gloved hand.

"Roy? I'm heading back, need to lunch and top up my tanks."

An older, gravely voice broke the silence in his ear.

"You a'int got yer quota yet 'J', boss isn't gonna be happy 'bout it. 'specially if'n you're refilling your tanks already."

His friend, who's plain english was reminiscent of older, simpler dialects, was working the salvage crew with him that day. They'd met a couple years before and though he was 15 years his senior, he and Roy had become fast friends.

" I know buddy" he replied, "you let me handle that cheap bastard, he doesn't scare me."

He knew that oxygen wasn't exactly a resource to be wasted, but being on a salvage crew in wasteland wasn't exactly the easiest job, and he'd already traveled further than the day before. If his boss couldn't afford to keep his crew active, there was no sense being in the salvage business, and Jacob was one of the best this side of the crater. Jacob had grown up an only child of a service worker, a single parent, at the base of one of the Altri towers. Many, not-so-lovingly called each of the monolithic structures the 'ivory towers'. As the child of the working class, being outside was merely a dream, at least for leisure. Only those who could afford it could go outside for leisure activities, though few actually did.