Kora couldn't shake the sense that there was a catch to all this. She wasn't a cynical person. It just didn't make sense. Two things were immediately important. She needed clothes, and she was starving. And coffee—she needed coffee.
She stopped on the street corner of Dorado and Diego. She looked around, taking a deep breath.
She reached her left arm across herself, gripping her right arm.
The bruises on her right arm hurt.
She didn't mind.
She was looking at the tall brick buildings, butted up against each other, running down the street either way as far as the eye could see. She watched the hustle and bustle of the big city. Most of the buildings were three or four stories. A few jutted up above the rest—eye-catching architecture.
It had been a year since confinement.
One year without the sight of free people—other than visitors and lawyers. Seeing free people going about, working, busying themselves, being FREE. It was glorious.
Well, as free as people could be under the Authority, which wasn't very free at all. Unconfined, was what they were. Unconfined by prison bars. Kora had never felt confined under the Authority, because she broke all the laws anyways. The Authority made it more difficult for her to do her thing, but she didn't give it much thought. Things were how they were. She could work with and around anything. She was smart. And adaptable.
Steam rose above the buildings from the factories that surrounded the city.
She smelled barbecue of some kind, couldn't identify the source.
A woman walked by, laughing at her. "Nice clothes, dear."
Kora began down the busy street.
The vehicles were mostly horse-drawn carriages. There were a few auto-carriages—some gas-powered, some magnet-powered. Magnet-powered were more expensive, for affluent clientele only. And rare. Gas-powered were relics of the past, but still served the poor—which was most people in this district.
Kora wasn't familiar with this city, because she'd been shipped to this prison after getting caught. She'd never truly been here until now.
The first clothing store she found doubled as a food-supply store. As she got nearer, she realized it was an all-purpose store. Small, which meant they didn't carry much supply. But they carried a variety. Which meant the clothes would be cheap—her favorite kind.
She walked under the tattered balcony over the front door, pushed through the scuffed-up old door. Bells rang, a mechanism tied to the door, as she entered.
It was stuffy in here. Smelled like an all-purpose store. A mixture of everything: food, clothes, refrigeration, oil, tools. The place was perhaps forty feet deep by fifty feet wide.
"Need help with anything?" the clerk asked, an old bespectacled man.
Kora scanned the store, saw women's clothes in the back left.
"I'm good," she said, and went to the back.
She was looking at the small selection, when she thought about Alex. There was no way they both got wrongfully exonerated in the same day, after the same incident. Which meant Alex was in prison, perhaps in solitary.
Kora's heart felt an ache.
She ignored it as she picked clothes.
She grabbed everything she needed and went behind the dressing divider. It was as tall as her eye level. There was a small mirror behind the divider, leaned up against the wall. Kora got the nurse pants off right away, threw off the hospital gown. She hated hospitals.
She'd grabbed black nylon stockings.
She pulled them on, then pulled over a dress that fit her a bit tightly, though one wouldn't be able to tell. The dress was beige, ruffled on the bottom half, fit snug around her waist.
She put a thin grey shawl over that—it was meant to go with the dress, as it ruffled near the bottom. She wrapped a belted leather corset around her waist. Buttoned down the brass—faded brass, old. She would need to get a jacket sometime later, but knew she wouldn't be able to afford it today.
She'd given a trunk of her clothes to her friend before she'd been booked. But he was a few districts away. This would do for now.
Finally, she pulled on a pair of black boots and tied them tight.
Leaving her hospital clothes behind the divider, she found the hat section, picked out a miniature feminine top hat. It had a fitted band around the circumference, and it had a ribbon and flowers on the left side. She placed it on her head and walked to the counter.
The old man waited for her to place her items on the counter. Then he noticed she was wearing the items. "Oh," he said. "I see. Will that be all today?"
"Yes, sir. Stockings under the dress," she said. "The black ones."
"Got it."
He punched out a receipt.
"How will you be paying?"
The prison had given each of them accounts with two silver coins included, to help them with clothing and food for when they were released from prison. Since Kora was released so strangely and suddenly, she wasn't sure if her account would work, or exist, or whatever.
She gave him the account number.
It was set up to only work on this street—the street on which the prison existed. The prison was at the far end of the street. She'd gone the opposite direction, to put some distance between herself and captivity.
The old man took out the year's binder of prison accounts, rifled through it for a minute. "Ahhh, here you are. This will cost one silver coin." The man went to a magnet-powered machine that relayed local communications. He entered her number and subtracted a silver coin. "The establishments have been notified. You have one coin remaining in your account. Might I suggest the bar a block down from here? It's called Grace's Tavern."
"Do they have coffee?"
"Oh, yes," he said. "Thanks for shopping with us."
Kora dipped her head, the ribbons bouncing on the hat.
Then she was on the street again, feeling almost normal.
Still very confused.
And concerned for Alex.