The Circle City

This story hasn't really got a title. So, for now, maybe even permanently, I'll call it "The Circle City".

~

In a building far south of the first mayor's statue, past the box-like necessity stores crammed like sardines in a can, around the tight corners of Candlelight Avenue, a boy stands wide-eyed at the topmost window of his father's dusty home. He uses his hands to push himself higher, the gears in his head turning, comprehending the sight before him.

Half of Nable is burning.

Bright orange flames rise high into the sky--high enough to lick at the airships--bright as the stars. He can hear the fire eating the houses. He imagines the screams of the people as they flee in terror to the half that doesn't burn.

Down below, steam-powered worker drones roll as fast as they can towards Northern Nable, mounted tanks filled with water. He drops himself from the windowsill and walks downstairs to tell his father.

His father isn't there.

The boy realises he's supposed to be working for the wordsmith today.