Chispa and Ceylon live in a studio apartment in the world’s largest city of 25th century. The majority of the land is a junkyard, and what isn’t covered in junk is rundown and overgrown. Outside of the rich neighborhoods at the center of the city, the community stays alive through music, invention, and willpower, and Ceylon and Chispa exemplify all three.
Ceylon is everyone’s favorite sarcastic badass. They belong to the largest anarchist group in the city and they are fearless. They tend to keep talking to a minimum, but that’s okay because Chispa talks enough for the both of them! Ceylon manages the books for Chispa’s business and has a collection of antique books at home. They can be aloof and lazy, but they always have Chispa to keep them on their toes. Ceylon is level headed, light hearted, and patient and they are ready to make the world a better place.
Chispa is a bubbly free spirit with a mind for building. She can make anything out of the materials in the local junkyard, and sells many of her creations through her online business. When she doesn’t have orders to fill, Ceylon is always ready with a new design idea for her. Chispa loves to try new things and sees every day as a new adventure. She can be scatterbrained and reckless but she always has Ceylon there to keep her feet on the ground-figuratively, at least. Chispa is sexy, sassy, and smart, and she is taking on the world.
When Chispa found Ceylon they had been going from home to home, staying with friends and carrying their meager belongings with them. Chispa had, however, been living with Abuela, who happily took Ceylon in. Then later, she found the two of them an apartment near hers.
The two settled in and the apartment filled with trinkets and pieces, half finished lamps, dilapidated radios, mechanical birds that sing an out-of-tune song. All of which belonged to Chispa. The only sign that Ceylon lived there at all was a sturdy set of shelves that held three books they hadn’t been willing to part with throughout the years- books they had deemed too valuable to leave for the next scavenger that came along.
One was a copy of The Allegory of the Cave by Plat. At least, that’s the only part of the name that had been left when Ceylon found it. It had been in extreme disrepair when they found it, and their first read through was an uphill climb through a soup of faded words on decaying paper. Then they went through with a pen and wrote over the words to make them legible. The third time through they wrote their own notes, updating it for the time and their own circumstance. One of the first things Ceylon had asked Chispa to do was rebind the book, and she did it masterfully, fabrication a new cover inlaid with silver metal pieces to spell out: The Allegory of the Cave by Plat, annotated by Ceylon.
The second was a copy of The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. Chispa had on more than one occasion found Ceylon simply staring at the cover, a threat of tears showing on their face, though never spilling over. Chispa never asked, but she did she read through the inside of the cover to try and understand his attachment to the copy. Ceylon’s name had been written there in a neat script, with a small dedication.
For my baby,
May time and space be yours in time, through books I found my power, through words may you find yours.
And that was all. Mom. No name. Chispa also realized this was a possible reason why Ceylon seemed to rarely speak, each word carrying weight when they did.
The third book seemed inconsequential in comparison with the others, the first being Ceylon’s whole basis of thought and reasoning for why they fight, the second being Ceylon’s mother’s favorite, and possibly the only thing left of her. The third book though, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, always seemed like a silly, unlikely story to Chispa. To her it held no meaning, no necessity, but she read it nonetheless, doing her best to understand everything that Ceylon held dear.
Ceylon stayed out late most days, doing sketchy things Chispa quickly figured it was better not to ask about. The apartment still felt like it was missing them, and in the junkyard if she ever saw a book she’d bring it home and place it on their shelves. Soon after she designed a new bookshelf for them, metal and inlaid with images from the three books Ceylon held so dear.