300 unis for a simple navigation pad? They had to be crazy. But then, maybe that was a good price... he wasn't sure. He forgot the conversion rate from the old money. Not that it mattered now, anyway. No one in this part of town has 300 unis. Things had changed here once every country in the world adopted the same currency- the Universal Unit, uni for short. The economists were so excited about the uni- while once upon a time a universal currency would have spelled disaster, ever since the powers of the Council of Combined Countries eliminated the poverty of third-world countries, everyone rejoiced that the uni would truly bring global economic equality. It did, for the most part. The high parts of the cities, the suburbs, even the farms all benefitted from the uni. Millions of people all over the world were getting jobs now, thanks to the uni. But no one really looked at how short-lived some of those jobs would be. For with the uni had come the spread of new technology, new ways of doing things. The world was optimistic in its growth. But as the old saying went, you can't keep building up without a solid foundation. The uni leveled the world, but the new technology built it up. Something had to give.

Trantis shook himself from his thoughts and turned away from the display of navigation pads that constantly talked, explaining features, benefits, trying to sell the pads. He checked the pockets of his tattered trenchcoat and found only the few old coins that he expected to find. He held his thumb up to his face and looked at the place where the uni chip had been implanted. It was easier to use than coins and bills, he had to admit. Just press your thumb to a store's uni chip reader and the funds would be transferred. Trantis frowned. It wasn't just used for storing money, though. The uni chip was also the Universal Identity Card, containing everything from your name and birthday to your medical records to your permanent record from grade school. Once you had a uni chip in your thumb, there was no hiding anything. And everyone had a uni chip.

Taking a final look at his thumb that invisibly held the chip, Trantis shoved his hands in his pockets, fingering the leftover coins of an obsolete currency. They were all the money he had. His uni chip held no unis. He was one of those in the forgotten part of society, the ones without jobs, the ones who were left below when the Council of Combined Countries did their great leveling. Trantis was one of the unfortunates whose body did not react well to the new technology- he was what they called a throwback, someone who couldn't be brought into the new universal society. In this new world, it was the throwbacks who suffered.

When the uni- and inevitably, the uni chip- were introduced, the ad campaign was so well run that no one but the old and cynical doubted the benefits it would have. The world back then was hopeful, having just come out of a world war won by the idealistic youth who were determined to make the world better themselves, not just end up leaving the job to the next generation as had happened so many times before. This time, the world would unite. Technology would be shared by everyone, and the would would finally be at peace. They were a perfect market to sell the uni to. Trantis himself had fought for this new world, never realizing that it wouldn't work quite as planned.

When a uni chip was implanted in a normal person, the thumb healed around it, leaving no indication that the surgery had ever been done. By Trantis's estimate, 99% of the world's population reacted this way. But for the other 1%, well, the reaction to the chip was very different. The chip was implanted and the thumb healed invisibly, but underneath the skin, the chip was affecting the body, sending signals through the nerves, causing the body to turn on itself. And by the time anyone realized what was happening, it was too late. The most common effects of this was degeneration of soft tissues- the tongue and eyes softened, rotted, and melted out. Trantis was one of the lucky ones. He'd gotten rich enough during the war that the doctors managed to save one eye. All he could see was grey shadows, but he was far better off than most. Still, here he was, a throwback. The irony never escaped him, however, that he who had been one of the most vocal supporters of the new world now had no place in it, nor tongue to cry out at the injustice.

He wanted that navigation pad, though, wanted to go someplace else, anywhere, that might be better than where he was now. Still an optimistic fool, he cursed himself. In this universal society, the whole world was the same. In making everyone equal, they'd put an end to diversity. The display continued to scream its wares at him, trying to convince him to buy things that he couldn't afford.

Trantis sighed and walked away from the storefront, heading towards the river. Though the air was cold, the pollution from the city caused a scum to float on the water that was several degrees warmer- enough to chase away the chills the slightest bit. Many throwbacks spent their nights here, a part of the city where most people would never go. But then, most people didn't even know about the throwbacks. The doctors had done a very good job of explaining away the problem, and with the throwbacks' inability to accept technological implants, there were no jobs for them. Now technology was invented to prevent the creation of any more throwbacks, but that cure only worked on babies. It was too late for everyone else.

Blind and speechless, the throwbacks were left to form their own communities, unable to receive new mechanical eyes or electronic voiceboxes to regain their speech. They'd come up with a sort of rudimentary grunting language, to communicate as best they could without having a tongue, or, in some unfortunate cases, lips, to shape the words.

Raising a hand to the shoulder of his friend Isa, Trantis gave it a quick squeeze and made a sound of greeting. To her inquiring noise, he responded with a negative, to say that he had been unsuccessful in finding anything useful. Isa wanted to leave this city too, even though she too knew that there was really nowhere to go. She was as poor as he, and completely blind. Trantis felt sorry for her, as she was one of the youngest throwbacks. When the doctors had invented the throwback antidote, she had just passed the age when it would have worked, and, taken from her parents, was cast out of the society as a young child. Luckily for her, Trantis found her, afraid and alone, on the streets after a few days, and decided to take her of her. Easily twenty years her senior, Trantis played alternatively the roles of father and big brother, raising her as best he could in the world of the throwbacks. A teenager now, Isa was tired of life by the river and longed to leave. Trantis, as devoted to her as ever, was doing his best to find the means for them to do so.

He sighed again, and, grabbing a lump of foul-smelling clay from the riverbank, sat down inside their tent. His hands carefully shaped the clay. He'd never been much of an artist, but he found that working the clay helped him to think, since he had so few ways to express his thoughts. His vision was bad enough that he couldn't read, and he certainly couldn't afford a pad that would read to him. He thought that he remembered how to type on the old keyboards, though they were rare nowadays. Everything was speech-activated, just another way to prevent the throwbacks from being able to exist in this modern society.

As he worked the clay, he wracked his brain as he had every day for years, trying to figure out some way for them to leave and find somewhere else to live. One problem would be food. It was hard to identify food, without being able to see it or taste it. Isa had a good sense of smell, for a throwback anyway, so she might be able to smell what would be safe to eat. Trantis would have to be in charge of navigation, with his limited vision. They could take their tent with them. It was sturdy enough, an old Army canvas tent that had only a few holes in it. He wished that he could find the supplies to mend it, but all trash went straight to an incinerator, so dumpster-diving was out of the question. That made it even harder for the throwbacks to survive. Even in this world, there were still poor people who couldn't afford all the new technology, and although most of them were determined to join upper society, some were compassionate people who left out food and old clothes for the throwbacks to find. At least, they would until the police found out and put a stop to it. It was always a struggle to find new sources of handouts.

Trantis had tried to work in exchange for food and supplies, doing chores, odd jobs, but most people wouldn't hire a throwback, if they could even understand what he was trying to communicate to them. Once in a great while, he was able to sell a clay bowl or cup that he had made, but he was sure that people only bought it out of pity, giving him a small sack of leftover food.

As an evening wind kicked up and blew the smell of the river over to them, Trantis had a thought. All rivers had a source, right? What if the source was far away from the city, maybe even clean enough to drink from without treatment? The more he thought about it, the surer he was that following the river was the only way that they would have a chance of making it. He called to Isa, who was sitting not far away. With a hopeful tone, he dipped some water from the river into her hand and swept it to point away from the city. She made a questioning noise, to which he responded with an affirmative. Excited, he left a slightly-bewildered Isa as he headed back toward the city, intent on finding supplies for the trip.

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