A Face Stared Back

The Upper Windows

If God didn't want us in the sky, He wouldn't have made ropes so strong.

Jax mumbled it to himself... Dren said it every time they climbed.

The morning haze hadn't burned off yet. Below him, Level 17 still held dew and echo.

Nets from last night's Skycatch match flapped in the breeze. Someone had scrawled JAX 10 - GRAVITY 0 across a duct panel. Zinn's handwriting.

Jax laughed and kept climbing, humming low enough to make the rope resonate in his hands. Like he always did on quiet mornings.

Above the game decks, anchor cables and scaffolds tangled through the towers. The whole upper span webbed tight. They weren't kept on maps, but everyone on the lines knew the route.

To Jax, it was a staircase. He clipped onto Line 34 and swung out, boots skimming open air as momentum curled through his spine. Wind shrieked past his ears. He gave the line a practiced tug and twisted midair to avoid a runoff pipe.

The tower's glass shell blurred beside him. His boots hit the platform five stories above his assigned cleaning rig. Below, Zinn clapped and whooped.

"Didn't you show off enough last night?" he shouted.

Jax smiled, catching his breath.

Zinn balanced a lunch tin on his head like a crown. "Come on, cloud boy. We've got half the skyline to scrub."

"I think gravity missed me," Jax called back.

"She's petty like that. Now move your limbs, Lord Skycatch. The Central Tower's not gonna polish itself."

Zinn swung the rig toward him, the basket already packed with rags and scrapers.

The upper windows were off-limits to drones. Too many secrets behind the glass. The towers always preferred Groundling hands for this kind of work.

Jax clipped in, kicked off the platform, and yanked the counterweight line. The rig shot upward in a smooth rush, pulley wheels whining as the world opened around him.

Sky above, the Cloudline below.

He clung tight as the line stopped at Level 45.

A shimmer caught in the glass. Not a reflection from the sky, but from inside.

A face.

A girl his age, maybe younger. Strawberry-blond hair, too clean for his side of the Cloudline. Green eyes met his.

She leaned in and put her hands on the window. For a beat, she just stared.

He blinked. She blinked back.