Tears in the Fabric of Time

First discovery'When Spinster first fell ill we never thought a tracking device gone haywire was the cause, not until Dad opened her up with a scalpel and we saw the real problem. A tiny, pulsating sliver of black, a trail of white-crusted acid bleeding from its edge, seeping into her body. Dad removed it, cleaned her up. Since then, we've been hunted. We live mostly in the sewers, using them to move unnoticed beneath the city. Down here it's difficult for them to find us. Sometimes they come into the murky depths, but only when there is a real need, or a purge. A knee-jerk response to a problem to be sorted out quickly. With violence. An old man called Jason Lombardy, who shared the tunnels with us, said during the five years he'd spent surviving amongst the filth and the stench he hadn't experienced a single search unit. He lived almost exclusively down here. Well, everything changed when yesterday a whole load of militia appeared and we had to run deeper into the tunnels. Jason laughed at the way we grabbed our stuff and screamed at each other. He told us not to be silly; it was a routine sweep; no need to panic, as nothing was going to happen. When the first projectile hit him, blowing open his chest, he wasn't laughing anymore. He won't be laughing again. We got away. We hid, and Dad says we have to stay hidden because if we're found, every scrap of information will be extracted from our brains before they kill us. He said their scientists are working on all sorts of new stuff designed to keep them one step ahead. Weird stuff, dealing with electronics. I'm not sure what electronics is, but Dad explained they had invented something so revolutionary it would end the steam age. He had no idea how anything worked, but things like the homing device were now possible. He couldn't explain much, and that's true for most of us. So, the problem is, if I'm caught, they'll realise I don't know anything. Then what will they do? All I know is Spinster is dead, and Jason Lombardy too. So why would they want me? It's a nightmare. At night, Dad cries, and I hold him and wish it were all over. This is our life now. I can't see it getting any better. I wonder if I'll ever see the daylight again, feel the Sun on my face, take a walk in the park. I hope I do. Somehow, I don't think it's going to happen anytime soon.'