3,000 feet in the air, was where Bettey Alvite was at 2:36 in the afternoon; the exact moment Charlie Valerie Pastiva was killed in her hotel room 20 stories up. So why was she being accused of murder? It was simple really; she was a Hasher. The only Hasher in the city, so it had to be her. Who else would have had a better motive? A Hasher killing the daughter of the great renowned Noblist, Blairee Russe Pastiva. It was only fitting. So, besides the fact that Bettey had several witnesses confirming her alibi and five separate people had given accounts of the killer who was a tall, white, male, with raven black hair, and she was an average sized-blond-woman, she was still accused of murder.
There was no possible way she could have done it, and the police knew it. The enforcement officers just didn’t want to believe it. They didn’t want to believe it because not a single person in the city fit that description, so the only possible way the killed could have fit that disscription is if they were a Ferratiö. The Metalci word for ferret, the name of the loathed law breakers that slipped through surveillance and committed Anti-Noblist acts of terrorism in the name of the greater good. A terrorist group; the Ferratiö. A silly name, but one that made sense. The Ferratiö had bested the police and they didn’t want to admit it. Betty was in her too-many-great-grandfather's hot air balloon at the time, 3,000 ft up and exactly 120 and .6 miles away from Charlie’s hotel room.
Nowadays hot air balloons were a rare sight so Betty didn’t realy blame them for being suspicious of that, however they had too many witnesses saying it wasin’t her to be ignored. The paper records of where she was is more than enough evidence to prove that it wasin’t her. The only thing that they were holding her under was ‘resonable doubt’. The ‘reasonable doubt’ being that they didn’t have any surveillance footage and people often miss-remember things. Of course they didn’t have any footage, it was a Noblist city, they didn’t have any cameras. Hasher cities on the other hand, had too many to count. It simply was ridiculous, several people had given the exact same testimony; what in the world did they have to gain from lying? Nothing. But that didn’t matter; she was a Hasher. To make it even better, she was the lowly of the low, a Ash Sweeper. The class system ran like this: Noblists, Bervone, and Hashers. Noblists, the rich and the mighty, Bervone the middleclass, the overlap, and Hashers, the poor and hungry, the Ash Sweepers and the bottom feeders. You could change your class, it has been done, but you're immediately beatten down to your place again. Ash Sweepers are essentially glorified chimney sweeps, but they are not glorified, they are vilified. Seeing a Ash Sweeper is like seeing a black cat or breaking a mirror, bad luck. Some Hashers think they are good luck, but not many. They clean the smokestacks (Flue gas stacks) in the factories all day every day, sweep ash from the streets, and clean up dirt. They are the ones who do the dirty work for people doing dirty jobs, the poorer under the poor.
Now, not all Hashers were really poor, you just had to be ridiculously rich to be a Bervone, let alone a Noblist. Being a Hasher isint’ half bad most of the time, if you only avoid Bervone and Noblist cities to avoid discrimination. Hashers tend to grow up together and don’t often move, which creates, even in the huge in-door jungle like cities, a family diynamic and/in little pocket communities. The adults all converse together, the children play together, and the elderly exchange stories. Just what you need after a long day of manual labor, the gentle flow of conversation and a nice hard wooden chair. Okay, maybe not the chair. I would like a nice soft cushiony chair, thank you very much. It was a simple life with its charms. Many Hashers, however, are discontent with the barrage of prejudice, hence the Ferratiö. The anti-discrimitory terrorist group.
...
Betty Alvite was awoken to the clanging of iron bars and the scraping of metal keys. Through the bars of her cell, squinting in the dark, Betty saw a woman in a military collared corset top with a flowy asymmetrical skirt. ‘Not a Nobilist cause’ the hair is too long, a Bervone then.’ You needed your hair to be long enough to put it up for work, or short so it wouldn’t get caught on anything, because of that mid-length hair became a symbol of nobility. ‘Ah, Meive is here.’ Betty wiped the gunk out of her eyes after her snooze on the metal bed.
“I must have not been out for too long cause’ I’m not too sore, lucky me.” The police officer opening her cell was grinding his teeth so hard Betty figured they would fall out when he tried to eat his supper. Betty, not one to keep her thoughts to herself, immediately told him so. He snarled back, what a beast.
“Supper, Ms.Hasher. Really? Before you go barking your mussel at this fine chap here you need to realize you are not in the smokestacks anymore. The ash must be getting to your head. We use the word ‘dinner’ here Ms.Sweeps. Perhaps you are not familiar with it?” ‘His more intelecualy fortuned friend was annoying. With his white suit and shoes and emerald green vest. Now he was a Noblist, if he didn’t live in a Noblist city, that suit would have been ruined black the second he stepped outside the shop he bought it from.’
“Ms.Alvite, you do relize you are under susppision of murder. Poking sticks at Officer Brands here will not do you any favors.” ‘So he does know my name. He was just ‘poking sticks’ as he calls it. The snobby little,’ “Ms.Alvite, I have a proposal for you.” Betty stared back blankly at him with an incredulous look on her face, and a frown for good measure. “You do know what a proposal means do you not?” ‘The mock concern is enough to make my ears bleed. Does he really believe I would want to help him after the gripes he made at me.’“Well, you clearly do not know. Allow me to elaborate further. You do know what elaborate means, do you not? Very well, I will have to explain them both. A proposal is a noun, the plural form being proposals. It means a plan or suggestion, especialy a formal or”
“Alright! Alright! I know what ‘proposal’ means and smokes! I know what dasted ‘elaborate’ means!” The man smiled. ‘Oh, sootsmuck, I gve him what he wanted.’
“Now, now, Betty, we must not lose our tempers, now shall we.” Bettys face gave way to a look of appall. ‘He knows very clanging well that it means to call someone by their first name. If he had an ouce of respect in his body he would have never done such a thing.’ This time Alvite held her tongue, no use adding fuel to the fire.