In 1955. The country of Idiosyncrasies has two main idiosyncratic cities Normal-Abnormal-Normal-Abnormal and Abnormal-Normal-Abnormal-Normal. The city built upside down of Normal-Abnormal-Normal-Abnormal merged as a continuous reflection with the city built right side up of Abnormal-Normal-Abnormal-Normal. The region's construct was a very large, difficult, moving jigsaw puzzle. 

The roads and streets, landmarks, bridges and buildings, etc. above and below shifted like tectonic plates compelled by its people's movements throughout their day from place to place. This happened during the busiest parts of the day in synchronicity, keeping the residents' activity from interrupting one another, but tightly interwoven as if in a controlled dream world. There was no sun, moon or stars to light day or night. 

Idiosyncrasies ran on all steam-electric power fueled mostly by oil, coal or natural gas. To generate electricity, water is heated, turns into steam and spins a steam turbine driving an electrical generator. After it passes through the turbine, the steam is condensed in a condenser. All Idiosyncraticans are Agnostic born and raised.

Sixteen-year-old, Fifer o'clock Sahrdo needed a soul, and she needed it now. Shuffling through the crowd was like wading through sludge. Souls weren't sold at the market. Although, alchemists created and occasionally bartered souls for goods or foodstuffs.

Fifer's long, naturally pastel-grapefruit-colored hair with cherry-brown sunlights was in a braid wrapped around her head, underneath the hood of her cloak draped around her body. Her white-ice garrus-green eyes glowed like gemstones. She had effortlessly smooth black-reddish-bronze skin. She is half-Paramaccan, Suriname-Creole, and Mexican.

She had a wicker basket of blue-red-purple and green fleshed watermelon cut into halves, a plum-peach-apricot-cherry fruit.

Her exoskeleton looked like a cloak to the naked eye. Her dermis and epidermis had an unusual underlying multi-colored glow from her exoskeleton having five layers of luminescence: chemi-luminescence, radio-luminescence, thermo-luminescence, photo-luminescence, and electro-luminescence.

When she finally got to the front of the line, Bookneeders picked up one of the watermelon with his spiny fingers. His spindly fingertips pierced the green flesh as he grasped it bringing the succulent fruit to his wide pin-striped hooked-turned up nose. His quadruple nostrils sniffed each mixture of scent separating them with this enhanced sense of his. He opened his mouth to taste. He had no tongue. Only a palate tongue left for tasting with taste buds shaped like the heads of bolts. He'd have to clamp down on the fruit letting the juices be absorbed through his taste buds, which is how he consumed food and drink.

"No," Fifer scolded slapping the fruit away from his mouth and clumsily back into the basket. "You've forgotten what happened last time you tasted any of the food I brought you from my garden. You had an allergic reaction which you're lucky passed as quickly as it did. Creatures of color including myself can't eat any of the colorful foods especially the colorful hybrid foods because our bodies don't need them like the people in Colorfed do."

"I'm sure there's also another reason for you creating and using hybrid seeds to keep yourself and the rest of us from partaking in the fruits of your labor and intellect."

"I am a horticulturist, Bookneeders. It's just an experiment. So far it's working as long as they continuously eat and buy the food from my garden, since mine is the only kind which has any effect at all. And I'm hoping it'll stop Colorfedians from selling creatures of color."

"You'd rather fill their minds and bodies with your alternative cure rather than the typical declaration of war."

Fifer nodded. "A peaceful resistance is better. And much subtler when you add food as the main strategy. The people of Colorfed are desperate. War only fuels the desperation. Breaking bread is the art of sharing."

"You are a devious sort, Fifer o'clock."

"I need a soul."

"Usually I would honor your request, but I have a favor to ask, Fifer."

"What favor? You've never asked before."

"I never had to, until now."

"Bookneeders, what do you want?"

"I want you to find the Organ."

"Hmm, are you deciding to learn how to play a woodwind instrument as a hobby, Bookneeders?"

"No, the Organ is a child. The child's birth name's SzsoSzso. SzsoSzso is a living musical instrument. The child breathes and it sounds like a symphony orchestra playing an opus. The child coughs and it sounds like a ukulele. When the child's eyes open, it sounds like an accordion. The kid blinks and it sounds like a violin. The child's heartbeat sounds like a cello..."

"I get it. I'll find the child, because I don't like the idea of any child being out there lost."

"The Organ isn't lost, but being held. But I don't know where."

"How am I supposed to find SzsoSzso, if I don't know where to start?"

Bookneeders shrugged with a nervous snort and chortle.

"You've made a mistake asking for my help on this, Bookneeders. A tracker like Wolfcange would be better suited."

Bookneeders grabbed her arm before she could turn away. "No, a tracker will want to collect a bounty for finding the Organ. I know you don't care about that only the child."

"What if I don't find SzsoSzso? I would have to hire a tracker or two to assist me. At least that will give me a chance at success."

"No trackers. No one but you. With others involved the Organ will be another claim, urban legend, feeding frenzy, a hoax, a perpetuated myth used to make filthy and disgusting amounts of cash and to sell newspapers, commercials, movies and memorabilia. This is flesh and blood."

"No, Bookneeders. Alone I won't get far and SzsoSzso could be forever a lost cause."

"Fifer o'clock if you don't do this, I will repo your soul."

"Are you kidding me? Are you really threatening me with repossession?" Fifer jerked her arm out of his grasp. "You know what that'll do to me. Without my soul, I'll be drawn back into the Grove. You'll be condemning me to a life sentence. How dare you say such a thing to me?"

"I wouldn't have crossed the line, if I weren't desperate. SzsoSzso is the only living musical instrument, a rarity. SzsoSzso is an extremely powerful healer because of this. And if left in the wrong hands could be used to disarm nations."

"Alright, Bookneeders, you've got a deal. But it's under duress," she raised a brow with a steely glare at him.

Bookneeders shrugged. "Good to have you on board?"

Fifer o'clock groaned through clenched teeth.