Chapter 108: Boy for Sale, He’s Going Cheap (2) (Patreon)

Even in the midst of the night, the smog from the factories rose high in the air, threatening to conceal the skies above. The cities were all depressingly cramped. They weren’t made for people like Giir—he’d likely have a lot of trouble fitting anywhere in this place. There were no streets—indeed, most of the things that could be called ‘walkways’ were blocked with pipes that one had to scramble over and around. 

There were wires dangling from every portion of the place, some severed and crackling with electricity. Far above, there were glass-like tubes that hummed with Primordial Energy, and moved in between the black buildings like power lines. They were some of the only bits in the cities that could be considered ‘clean.’

It was dark—too much so, not only because of the night, but because of the looming buildings. The buildings were tall, and quite close together, so if the moon was not directly above, it was nearly pitch black. That only exacerbated the situation with tight confines. The only source of light was the sparking wires and Primordial Energy power line above. 

I only saw one sort of person in these cities—thin and poorly-dressed members of the same blue-fur, long snout species that the child was. Though the child in Zinuetet’s arms wore poor clothing, it was far better than the rags that covered the denizens of the city. He was of fuller body, too. It seems bandits eat better than legitimate citizens. 

People were thin, with weak arms and legs. I did see some places that could be considered ‘residences,’ but for the most part, people hung from pipes on homemade hammocks, or perhaps simply slept on the ground itself. I stepped on many people, as did Zinuetet, but none of them dared act against us after seeing our uniforms. 

Far above, removed from it all, the people on hovercars flied. Day had informed me those were the people that oversaw the workers. If their residence wasn’t on the same palatial estate in the sky that the city owners had, it would simply be high above. Most of them could only be accessed via hovercar, meaning actually talking to your boss was impossible. 

That’s not mentioning the abysmal stench, or the utter filth of the place. Most of the surfaces were thick with grime. The only portions that were clean were those that needed to be clean to function. There was black sand all over the ground, and where there wasn’t black sand, there was what I presume to be bodily waste. 

The place seemed to be filled with disease. When I’d been taken onto the colony ship a year ago, I recall them treating us medically, even curing the supposedly incurable disease that was cancer. These places received no such respite. People were coughing blood on the street, spitting everywhere, with no regard for proper hygiene or decorum. 

It was hell. Few other words could suffice. 

I saw rotting corpses and fresh ones, both of which had been partially cannibalized. I saw muggings, murders, all for things that I wouldn’t even consider dying for. No one seemed happy. There was nothing to be happy about in this city. It was one giant den of misery, a comical exaggeration of a dystopia—but then, that comical reality was before me. 

My brief look into the factories told me their working conditions weren’t exceptional, either. I saw small children operating heavy machinery using Primordial Energy. There were bright forges raging with little heat protection for the workers. And… warning signs? What’s that? All of the machines had no yellow hazarding, or indeed any hazarding at all. As much was evidenced by the many people missing ends of their fingers—or, at worst, entire hands. 

For once, I didn’t feel left out. 

Above all, the sheer quantity of people was ridiculous. It was as if Times Square was the entire city—though without the neon lights and a general reason to be there. People were in hammocks for nearly a mile above my head, like ten thousand moths cocooning in one location. They slept on the floor, wearing no blankets. A blanket was something that was fought over. 

As for the food situation… there were food stands, evidently controlled by the city owners. It was evident only because it was clean. A robot handled the food distribution, and it would know if you had already been given food. Though I recalled the days of the pink paste at the military academy, they didn’t have such luxurious food. It was more of a brown waste, thick and glistening like oil, filled with unidentifiable chunks. Still, the people slopped it up greedily—that is, if it wasn’t stolen from them. 

People had to make their own ways of getting food. Strange, three-eyed vermin were cooked on hot pipes, alongside more identifiable and crunchy things like roaches or centipedes. I had eaten a roach before. Though I couldn’t taste it, the texture alone was enough to make one want to vomit. It helped contribute to the rancid smell that filled the area. 

“I hate this place,” I commented idly. 

“Yeah. Me too,” Day agreed. 

Even Zinuetet couldn’t help but give a nod. The boy had mostly quieted down, but he seemed terrified by his new surroundings. 

“You seem to be walking as though you know where you’re going, Day.” I grabbed a pipe and used it to swing over a sleeping person. 

Day stood atop a smoking exhaust, the smoke billowing behind his back as he looked out across the dark city. “Yeah. These cities—they’re all blueprints of the same city. The pipes and stuff get added over time as the facilities get fleshed out, but overall? This place, giving me waves of nostalgia. Unpleasant. Don’t like it. But I know where to go.”

I helped Zinuetet cross a gap. “Is that, maybe, outside the gates? I say we find another bandit group to give him to.”

“Heh. Maybe you’re right. But no, I’ve got a better idea.”

We kept walking through the alleyways until I started no notice a bright light. It was a rainbow of color; purple, yellow, red, all of it. Day was leading us right to it. 

“Just like I remember it. The commercial section of each city. It’s still awful. Real awful. But, if you run a store, you can live a life comparable to… say, one of the guard’s pets?” Day wheezed out in laughter. “It’s the best bet that we have.”

“Commercial section? They must not sell much. I’ve not seen anything I’d consider ‘commerce.”

“It’s more of a… uh, entertainment, thing. Mostly prostitution. Sometimes food. Sometimes both.” Day wheezed again. 

I grimaced as a foul mental image filled my mind. I did my best not to let it show on my face. “The oldest profession persists even here, hmm?”

“That’s right.” Day paused, hanging from a pipe, looking around. “Tell you what—you guys, stay here. I can’t focus on listening if I’m talking, ya know.”

“Fine by me. We’ll find a…” I looked around, and though I didn’t find any, said, “…clean spot, I suppose.”

Day veritably ran away, and I found a suitable spot for both Zinuetet and I to sit, our legs dangling from a pipe. 

“Are you holding up?” I asked. 

Zinuetet stared out into the city. “I think we’re really lucky, Casimir.”

I grit my teeth, but eventually said, “I can’t disagree.”

“I keep thinking to myself, ‘I want to do something to change this.’ But then I think on it more, and I realize that there’s nothing that I can do to change this. These people are trapped here.”

I shrugged. “That’s the way the world works. One person alone is not an island.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, you know. About changing the world in your image. I think…” Zinuetet looked down at the ground far below us. “I think that I’d like to be there, too. So I can make sure you stop things like this from happening.”

I laughed. “You make it sound like I’m the bad guy here.”