You struggled for a moment as you navigated the slide down the sheer sea walls opposite the towers across the estuary. In the past people would mudlark in the early mornings, the sun a necessary accomplice. It’s never a problem for you. The city was an anthropogenic sun.
The bank’s mud was a void against the black sky. It’s grainy between your fingers and smells more of gasoline than a nutrient rich silt. This silent shore had acted as an unofficial junkyard for years. It took only moments for your fingers to have outlined something of interest.
It’s square and thin with rounded edges and took little effort to free from the mud. Covered in muck, you could not gleam its origins or purpose. You make the trek over to the waters after a couple close calls in the slick mud. The waters reveal a hard plastic with metal studs that surrounded a central flat face. From what you assumed was the back of the device most of the what was written had been washed way by the slow moving river. The face was shallow and the words “WE_CO_E” and “WA_T _IM_” in red were painted on in a corporate calligraphy.
You searched it for meaning, now terribly curious of its purpose. The lights of the city, what first felt blinding, failed to provide the detail you craved. Your pinky gets caught on a ridged plastic switch that slid grittily into a second position. In that moment two zeros flashed on it’s face. Red lights were accompanied by a vibration in unison that felt almost musical. You figured it must be some archaic toy. Stood frozen, you watch the small objects final show.
Smiled at early human’s simplicity. It’s sure to sell well in the flea markets.
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