Mama Rags

If you should head to the lower levels of a city in Northern Amerigo, chocked by taller buildings, skyways, and ever-growing factories and their smog, you will find people that are looking for a little hope in their lives amongst the flickering lights. Something to stop the darkened sky from falling in on them. Even in the nicer lower-level neighborhoods, the ones that are well lit with lamp posts and string light, feel this in the back of their minds. Even there, you can hear the whispers. or perhaps they are more aptly described as warnings.

Those that hope for a different future may be tempted to seek a way to see it, and if they don't like it, to change it. Inevitably these people will hear the rumor of some kindly old woman in the lower levels, who can help them with their plight. Bundled away in some dark corner of the lowest floors, stirring a cauldron while she waits for her next guest.

Mama Rags.

Supposedly, she is more than human. More than Organic. Able to see the fate of all people, Synthetic or Organic, and tell it to you. Of course, she isn't a well-off woman, and as such would like to be paid for the effort. The currency that she demands, however, is esoteric at best. A Picture of your childhood self. A parent's favored piece of clothing. A brick from a place you favor. Rarely things of value, other than their emotional or nostalgic weight. You never know what it will be, yet they're required all the same.

It goes without saying that not everyone who hears their future is not happy when it's not filled with money, lovers, or a long time until the inevitable end. Poor dears.

That is when Mama will make an offer of her own. For a little more, a pittance really, when compared to what she is offering. If you accept an offer like this, she can change her reading. Nudge the pieces into place for you to get what you want. Why, it will practically fall into your lap dear.

So why don't you come to see me, dear? We have so much talking to do!