ã€ŠThe other sideã€‹


 Prologue

    The woman was concealing her face with a scarf and slowly making her way through the darkness. Her rhythmic steps echoed down the tunnel, gently fading away into the distance. She was slightly ashamed of what she was about to do, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her. Going down a few steps, she paused near a simple metallic door, adjusting the bundle of clothes on her back. She put her gloved hand to it, slightly heating up the metal. Light was seemingly leeched from the surroundings, making the already darkish colors loose more of their vibrancy. After a moment, the colors brightened again, and the darkness receded. A white neon light lit up, circling the place where the doorbell was located, the only glowing spot in an otherwise inert world. Ignoring all this, the woman retrieved the bundle from her back, touched the circle, activating a seemingly complicated mechanism, judging by the amount of whirs that could be heard, and waited, tapping her foot.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    A few minutes later, a young man with calm eyes opened the door, and looked at the woman tiredly.

    ¡®His name is Karl. He was born exactly a week ago. Please take care of him¡¯ the women quickly said, her indifferent eyes meeting the man¡¯s.

    ¡®Of course. That¡¯s our job¡¯, he nodded, taking the bundle the women was holding to him. He curiously peered into the wrinkly face, instantly determining that the infant was healthy and that nothing was wrong with it. The baby was fast asleep, just as it should be at this late hour.

    When he looked up, the woman was gone.

    ¡®Now, what do we do with you?¡¯, the man smiled slightly, walking into the orphanage and putting the child into the nearest crib. It was still sleeping, not having made a single noise.

    The man looked around the quiet room full of sleeping children, checking that everyone was in place. Not finding anything out of the ordinary, he retreated into his office and resumed reading his book. He would sort out everything come day.

 Chapter 1. Childhood I

    In the town square, a very interesting young pair of friends was enjoying themselves.

    ¡®Come here, Spawn!¡¯, a young dark-haired boy shouted. A small inky rat-like dog came running to him, barking and generally making a lot of noise. It was happy to finally see its favorite human!

    The boy smiled, thinking about how effective his training of Spawn was. The previously untamed and wild stray dog that he had found dying in the dumpsters responded to him as its master. He could brag about it to all of his friends, just as he was doing now. Quite effectively, judging from Max¡¯s glinting, slightly jealous eyes.

    ¡®You see how he responds to me, Max?¡¯, the boy smirked at his friend

    ¡®I do, Karl. Unfair! I also want a dog! But do you have the money to feed him?¡¯ the taller boy replied. ¡®Aren¡¯t you constantly whining about how the pocket money the orphanage gives you isn¡¯t enough for even sweets? Where in the world do you get him meat?¡¯

    ¡®It gets it on its own.¡¯ Karl replied. ¡®After I fed it some leftovers that I stole from some older kids, he got stronger. I think he started killing rodents, the ones that are vicious and scare other dogs. I saw a few krysas or something rummaging in the trash cans, and Spawn just ran up to them and killed them. He still always begs me for leftovers though, useless being¡¯

    Spawn loved krysas. For this animal, the only thing better than a young krysa corpse was cheese, something Karl used as treats when he attempted to teach his pet tricks.

    Pausing and thinking for a few moments, Karl¡¯s face broke into a sunny smile. ¡®Max!¡¯

    ¡®Yes, what is it? What are you planning? You always do that smile when you¡¯re planning something¡¯ his friend replied, his mouth pulling into a well-practiced frown. ¡®Count me out!¡¯ he continued, but his eyes were sparkling with merriness and excitement.

    Karl didn¡¯t care about any of this, he had an idea and he wanted to see it succeed, no matter if he had Max¡¯s agreement or no.

    ¡®Want to see how useful the rat spawn can be? We¡¯re starting school tomorrow, we need the appropriate equipment to learn better. Our God would appreciate our dedication to learning. Vodrim always says that we must work hard and learn efficiently, or we¡¯ll turn out like those Light primitives!¡¯, he said, glancing in thought around the busy circular town square they were standing in. Of course, we must brag about our pets at every possible opportunity!

    Badly maintained white electric lights on the ceiling above them flickered without rhythm. Evidently, having good illumination in the town square was not a priority for the floor council. Orange ribbons covered the lights, twisting in interesting geometric patterns and making the light slightly softer and warmer.

    The intensity of the light was carefully calculated on installation to not burn the beautiful ribbons. Burning symbols of the military was frowned upon. There was a possibility of severe punishment for disrespect of these symbols: execution by shooting, being sent to the mines, or even banished to the surface.

    The government just did the minimum to keep the stupid population content, hanging war symbols instead of investing in civil infrastructure.

    In contrast to the white marble ceiling, the ground was shrouded in a thin dark fog, which made tripping on barely visible stones something very common.

    In the middle of the town square, Karl could see an majestic imposing statue of Ru, protected from reaching hands by a ring of fire. The fog was denser near the statue, which made the intense red fire seem brighter. Around the statue were a few praying citizens kissing the earth, asking God for guidance and help with their craft.

    The towering statue symbolized the technological level of the Tunnel dwellers. It was a carefully balanced masterpiece of interlocking wires and counterbalances for stability. Electromagnetic fields played with the flames, bending them in mesmerizing chaotic oscillations. A true marvel of scientific and religious value, its craftsmanship had inspired many students to delve deeper into their fields of study. Notably, however, the statue was menacing, and the shifting flames occasionally reminded a casual observer of a tangle of worms. It was meant to do that. Karl was filled with a vague sense of disgust. External beauty was irrelevant.

    The circular underground room was filled with a multitude of people all dressed in semi-formal clothes. This was the center, and it would not do to be seen unkempt. They were taking walks, exchanging information, seeking entertainment, and visiting the shops dug in the rocky cavern walls. Display windows glowed with colorful neon lights, trying their best to attract the attention of wandering eyes. Most of the items on display were somehow related to science or the military, with occasional posters promoting staying healthy and getting enough light.

    Karl¡¯s eyes carefully went past each shop, occasionally pausing for brief intervals whenever they found something interesting. They finally stopped completely, focusing on a flashing and dying out sign. The young boy walked a bit closer to the shop he had spotted.

    Peering through the glass display overflowing with luxury pens and ink bottles, Karl could see an old man sitting near the counter, tiredly looking at the entrance and waiting for new visitors. The grandfather was dozing, his eyes half-open. His gentle warm face was showing lazy and calm contentment, his posture relaxed and quiet. The friendly wrinkles around his eyes showed that he had lived a long and peaceful life.

    Focusing his gaze on the items on display, Karl brightened even further. ¡®How about we steal a fountain pen? The books say that they write in smoother lines and that your hand cramps less when you use one. It¡¯ll be great for school, where they¡¯ll make us submit class notes for appraisal¡­¡¯, he whispered to his friend who had followed him.

    ¡®I¡¯m already scared. I don¡¯t want to fail the entrance exam and end up in some second rate school. Maybe we should just forget this walk, go back and go over all our notes again?¡¯ Max shivered, understanding that if they failed tomorrow, they would miss a great opportunity to be successful, or honor Ru, as Vodrim, the main educator at the orphanage¡¯s school, had put it just a few days ago, ¡®To motivate you, my dear children!¡¯, Vodrim had said in a cheerful voice.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡®No, you know that you need to be mentally sharp! Vodrim said to take a break today.Anyways, we¡¯vealready been preparing for a few months, this won¡¯t change anything¡¯

    Karl¡¯s face had lost part of its brightness, reminded of the event that lied in wait for them.

    ¡®Yeah, you¡¯re right¡­¡¯ Max nodded, his face still slightly tense. ¡®Then let¡¯s do it. We can also be more like those older honor students that get them as prizes. And everyone will be jealous¡¯. He and Karl had gone on many similar adventures, and, based on his experiences, he fully trusted Karl not to get them into too much trouble. But it never hurt to check.¡®Are yousure your plan will work?¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, this will not involve you. Just watch.¡¯Karl came up to the black dog and let it sniff a small metallic ball that had somehow found a way into his hands as he was talking. The ball was about a clenched fist in size, and there were some small visible screws on its surface, holding the shell together.

    It was a common, if slightly expensive, children¡¯s toy.

    Karl walked a few steps closer to the store, and stopped in a shadowy corner about thirty or forty meters from the display case, in this way hiding himself frommost casually wandering eyes. He carefully raised his hand at a well-practiced throwing angle, tensed his muscles, tapped the silvery ball a few times, making it briefly whir and beep a few times, trailing a bit of black fog, and hurled it with all his force in the direction of the glass display.

    Karl hoped that Spawn would not get distracted. Spawn wasn¡¯t perfectly trained, and the dog loved occasionally running off in the middle of assignments.

    ¡®Spawn, fetch!¡¯, the dog immediately started running in the direction of the metallic blur, its black fur melding with the shadowy smoke that filled the floor. Karl had trained it to fetch him sticks, so he hoped that the dog would fetch him a fountain pen from the display after the ball broke the glass.

    The ball flew with surprising quickness and accuracy for somethingthrown by a child, trailingdarkness after itself. The body was almost invisible in the badly lit main square of the town. It seemed as if it were bypassing air friction and as if gravity didn¡¯t affect it. In reality, it was using small motors, spitting fumes of black smoke(in a curious usage of the natural byproduct of technology made under Ru¡¯s guidance), to keep its trajectory straight and conserve its momentum.

    Karl smiled, preparing for the glass to break and for the first part of his plan to succeed.

    The metallic toy flew well, hitting the glass display. There was a loud crack. The old man jerked, suddenly awake from his daydream. Some passersby turned their heads in curiosity, and stopped, observing the scene.

    But the glass didn¡¯t break. A deep crack was the only product of Karl¡¯s hard work of throwing the ball.

    Karl¡¯s mischievous smile faded, his face turning slightly red from shame. His plan had failed.

    The dog reached the glass display, and, having no pen to fetch, took the closest thing ¨C the ball that had lost its strange glow and was now inert. Spawn started running in the direction of its master, who was still hidden in a shadowy corner. It didn¡¯t notice what was happening around it, the despair of Karl, the actions of the crowd. It didn¡¯t care about anything except playing this fun game of fetch with its master! Happily wagging its tail, the rat-like animal steadily made its way through the dark fog.

    The old man, coming closer to the place where he had heard the sudden noise, saw the crack, the ball and the happy and stupid dog. His expression soured, his previously gentle and wise eyes turning into small angry slits. ¡®Who dares to sully the precious store? Who dares to destroy others¡¯ work?! Blasphemy!¡¯, his whole expression seemed to cry.Destroying technology and creations of men went against the base Axioms of Ru. He would punish the law-breaker himself!

    He quickly told the small curiouscrowd not to call the Tunnel guards, locked the door behind him and, miraculously finding energyin his old limbs, started running after the dog.

    The crowd looked on in interest to see what would happen. They were outraged on behalf of the grandfather and understood him completely.

    Everyone on scene thought that the dog was running towards its master, but how mistaken they were!

    Karl, understanding that his perfect plan had failed, saw that Spawn was running in his direction, chased by the grandfather, and understood that if the dog reached him, he would get caught. Panicking, he ran out of the shadowy corner he was hiding in, and started running in the direction of the orphanage, his home. Max followed him, supporting his friend and scared that the dog would choose to run to him after not finding Karl.

    No one noticed their sudden movements, as their attention was fixed on the old man and the dog.

    What no one even suspected was that Spawn was running towards one of the tunnels that lead out of the main square, specifically, the one which lead to a nice and overflowing dumpster. This tunnel happened to be in the general direction of Karl¡¯s location, which made Karl¡¯s misunderstanding logical. Spawn¡¯s nose had encountered the heavenly fragrance of a hiding krysa!

    Turning into the narrow tunnel, the dog reached a big and overflowing trash heap, and started sniffing the trash to find the rodent. The krysa was hiding somewhere, and Spawn would fill his stomach!

    A few moments later, the angry old man following the dog managed to catch up. Catching his breath, he stopped. He looked around, searching for the ball-thrower, and, not seeing anyone, started cursing, mixing vulgar insults with high and poetic language. He fluently cursed the Light god, the imbeciles who inhabited this world, the Evil spirits who caused him misfortune, the trash that dared to make him waste energy on useless tasks, and the dregs of society that mocked him by breaking his window.

    After a few minutes of this highly satisfying activity, the old man, now satisfied, paused.

    Of course, the grandfather wasn¡¯t stupid and had prepared for a day like this. He had a replacement glass lying on the second floor of the house with the flashing neon sign, where he lived. He just wanted to express his disappointment in this world and make the culprit pay. His monstrously deformed face and angry eyes made a sudden change to how they were before. He now again looked like a kind grandfather that would tell you endless explanations on the workings of the world in a captivating style, answering any question you had in a soothing and calm voice.

    If you can¡¯t catch the culprit, being angry is useless.

    The only witness of this shocking metamorphosis was a small krysa cowering in the trash heap peering through the cracks of a broken wooden drawer, trembling in fear of Spawn, who was eagerly searching for it, wagging his tail in anticipation of the live treat. It tilted its head in animal curiosity, but then, understanding that the strange transformation of the grandfather¡¯s face didn¡¯t concern it, the krysa returned to fearing for its life.

    His anger satiated, the old man took out a small metallic stick from his pocket and tapped it a few times. When nothing happened, the grandfather frowned, and hit the stick a few times with his hands. Tapping it another time, the stick briefly glowed in a neon blue light. The air stood still for a moment, and suddenly a complicated whir could be heard. A small amount of dark aura floated to the ground, and, as it cleared, the object unfolded, turning into a standard walking stick. The old man hit the ground with it a few times to drain what remained of his anger, and leaning on this interesting cane, slowly hobbled back his store, sadly glancing at the crack on the display window on his way inside.

 Chapter 2. Childhood II

    The city that the two boys were still running through was interestingly constructed. Careful planning had been put into its design, as it was the spiritual center and the capital of the Underground Free Union. It spanned many floors, with adjacent levels connected by stairs, elevators or even simple platforms on ropes. These platforms were mainly used by public trading companies to transport goods and materials.

    The best floors to live on were the ones near the surface. The third floor from the top hosted the city council, so money flowed down from there, bringing prosperity with itself. The higher you went, the better maintained everything was and the richer the people were. It was rare to move to other floors, moving could be seen as a change of status.

    The lowest levels were always teeming with activity. Huge machines, their wheels the size of two humans put on top of each other, dug new tunnels and hard-working miners spent hours in the damp earth, searching for useful minerals. The entire Free Union economy was centered around these minerals located deep in the Earth¡¯s crust.

    Each floor was a system of different types of spaces, or ¡®circles¡¯ as they were called, connected by a complicated network of tunnels. The design seemed to be chaotic, but inhabitants had no big problems getting around, being guided by precise maps.

    Immense pressure from the many layers of heavy earth as well as some marginal superstitions inherent to the dominant religion, led to the necessity of making the walls out of a specific, state-mandated mix of waterproof reinforced concrete. Many thick cables ran along the surface; carrying power and water in-between the ¡®circles¡¯. Beggars gathered around the warm water cables to warm themselves and ask the passersby for food.

    People living on the surface would have found all these closed tunnels constricting and uncomfortable, but the Tunnel dwellers were used to cramped dark spaces and in fact partially welcomed them. Their god, Ru, made all his inventions deep underground where it was quiet and no one could disturb him, and they loved being closer to their revered god.

    Returning to the present, Karl and Max were still running, scared of getting caught by the grandfather. They were very familiar with the tunnel system of the region, and did not need maps to travel around. They used their knowledge to take twisting and looping paths, in case the old man was still following them. After a long time and completely out of breath, tired and still slightly shaken, they finally slowed into a walk, hoping that all of their efforts were not in vain.

    If only they had known how hard Karl¡¯s dog was working near the rotting garbage bin to protect his master! Indeed, they had no reason to worry. Even before they had started running, Spawn had successfully distracted the old grandfather, and was presently eating its fill of young krysa. Like this, the cute pet was taking care of its master and at the same time profiting from it! Truly, the underling was well-trained and wise in the ways of life, making an honorable living with it was given!! We mere mortals can only wonder at how great and successful the owner himself must be.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The boys had stopped in front of the small tunnel that led to Karl¡¯s orphanage. Max lived a way off, with his family. Maybe was the reason why Max wasn¡¯t as religious as Karl? His father was an atheist, something heavily frowned upon.

    The lights above them were dim, signifying that the time to go to bed was approaching. During the night, all electrical power was turned off by authorities. Why use power when everyone is supposed to be asleep?

    Still not entering, Max leaned on the wall, and Karl sat down nearby on the cold stone floor, calming his quick breathing.

    ¡®It seems the old man won¡¯t come, we¡¯ve probably run far enough. Does Spawn usually follow you this far?¡¯ Max asked, panting.

    ¡®No, the dog is useless, it forgets everything quickly, so I think that it won¡¯t come here until it gets hungry for leftovers¡¯ Karl replied, visibly exhausted by the frantic run. ¡®That means we¡¯ve escaped!¡¯

    There is a certain irony to be found here, as there was never any danger of being caught.

    Max stared at the other boy for some seconds, remembering the whole episode. ¡®That was fun. Do not involve me in your brilliant schemes again.¡¯

    It is truly sad when you fail at boasting about your pet!

    _____________

    After a lot of jokes and ridicule from Max¡¯s part for failing the plan, they decided that it was time to part ways, and Karl quickly pressed his palm to the door. The light on the ceiling went slightly darker for a second, and a tiny bit of black fog floated down. The door opened almost instantly, and the black-haired boy entered his home.

    His first orphanage, the one he had lived in for the first ten years of his short life, was not one he wanted to remember. There, he was forced to eat tasteless clumpy semolina porridge every morning, screamed at by the always angry caretakers if he didn¡¯t finish his portion, booted outside for ¡®playtime¡¯ when he didn¡¯t have the slightest interest in his peers, screamed at by the same caretakers if he didn¡¯t play with his peers, and there were just too many people living in the same room as him!

    There was only one place in his previous orphanage which he liked -- the library. He was a big fan of the great Institute of Technology, which controlled the contents of libraries everywhere!

    It had many books, more precisely textbooks and science books, which, although not at university or even upper high school level, were very interesting. There were also a few religious ones, adapted for children, which he had read and reread many times. He loved reading stories about how Ru had granted humanity the thirst for knowledge and about His constant battles against his brother, Okawaru. He couldn¡¯t wait to grow up and serve his God and country, they had given him so much! A roof above his head, good living conditions, and an equal society!

    By law, any public center had to have at least one place where one could access quality educational materials and religious literature. Vodrim, his teacher and primary caretaker, had explained this to Karl during break time, when he was wondering at how such a poor place as his previous orphanage could afford all those novels.

    He had passed countless hours in that library, mostly studying textbooks and going through many mock exams.

    One of the most important exams he had studied for there were the X, a series of competitive exams that allowed children to test into higher-ranked learning centers.

    Having aced these, he finally started to live better, transferring to his current home, a better orphanage for gifted students. Here he had found friends that seemed interesting, like Max, who attended the orphanage¡¯s extracurricular open math course with him.

    Tomorrow would be another important test, Y, this one determining his middle and high school, which made it even more important to Karl than X. It was good for the future of the Union to find talent early on.

    Remembering that this exam was tomorrow, Karl¡¯s previous air of cheer from having escaped the angry grandfather suddenly disappeared. Then, looking at the clock, he realized that he was very late for the nighttime snack!

 Chapter 3. Childhood III

    The nighttime snack was the one bright thing in the poor, although admittedly somewhat intelligent, orphans¡¯ lives. At exactly 21:00, you would find a long line of eager children standing near Vodrim¡¯s room, chattering among themselves, each of them holding a cup. There were extremely complicated crowd dynamics at play here. One could write a dissertation paper on the sociological phenomena that took place during this time of the day.

    Broadly speaking, some would ask their friends to save them a spot, and those who were friendless or shy were usually pushed to the end of the line. All the second group could do was glare silently at the first, thinking about how there wouldn¡¯t be any milk or sweet bread left once the well-connected kids had got double and triple portions. Dommage!

    At exactly 21:01, the door to their caretaker¡¯s room was opened. The corridors had bad lighting, and to the naive eyes of the young children, the open door, emitting light, seemed like a window straight into Ru¡¯s forges! Food was handed out, firmly engraving the holiness of the moment in the minds of these children. Free food is the best, especially when your stomach is cramping from hunger. Food portions weren¡¯t that big, small even, a bit of hunger boosts your thinking ability!

    After some time had passed, and these orphans had left their nest, they remembered these childhood moments with deep nostalgia.

    Being late for the most anticipated moment of the day, Karl was creatively cursing the Light god with all his soul. He was too young to know complicated poetic language, like the angry grandfather who had been distracted by Spawn, so his cursing style was still more of a mismatch of vulgar words he had heard in passing. It wasn¡¯t very inspiring, but it was obvious that Karl was in the process of enriching his vocabulary.

    Running through the common room, where all the classes usually took place, and picking his mug up from where he had left it on his desk, he ran up to Vodrim¡¯s room. There was already a huge line of eager children with cups of different sizes. The deeper the cup was, the more milk the child would get, so it was in their best interests to bring bigger ones. Alas, there was an upper limit to the amount of free milk you could get, so no one¡¯s cup was ever filled. Very sad.

    _________________________

    Having received his cup of milk and sweet bread, Karl went back to his desk, and, sighing, took out his textbooks. He had to repeat the material for tomorrow¡¯s exam. He wasn¡¯t alone, many of the other kids his age were doing the same. The orphanage didn¡¯t tolerate laziness, handing out penalties to the lowest scorers.

    That evening he didn¡¯t stay up late as usual, because he needed to get enough sleep to be in good form.

    _____________________________

    A ray of light pierced the window that faced the inner square of the orphanage, and fell on the eyes of the peacefully sleeping boys. Karl, who slept right under the window, shifted, and hid his head under the pillow, escaping the irritating brightness.

    The electrical lights in the small square were blazingly yellow, attempting to simulate the sun¡¯s cycles. It was interesting how, despite living underneath the earth for many generations, the tunnel dwellers still tried to mimic daylight.

    A few minutes later, Isneil, one of the orphanage teachers, slammed the door open. ¡®Wake up, children!¡¯, she approached each bed in turn, briskly pulling the blanket off of every child and throwing it on the table.

    Taking away a person¡¯s blanket in the morning is the best way to wake him up, especially when it¡¯s freezing. Sunlight signals that it is not night anymore, and the cold air immediately makes the person unable to doze again. This beautiful and efficient method of waking a child up was praised and advertised by many.

    Karl, who slept the furthest away from the door, was the last in line to get his warm blanket taken away, so he was partially awake by the time the evil caretaker got to him. He grabbed the blanket with all his might, tangling his legs in the duvet cover to increase friction, prepared to fight with all his might.

    ¡­.He lost every morning, and this one would be no exception.

    The boys in the room quickly dressed and had a small breakfast, and soon met with Vodrim near the testing place, a thirty minute walk away from the orphanage.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    The exam took place in another school, this one less known than the orphanage¡¯s one. A four-floor building dug out in the tunnel walls, its facade was completely flat, made out of uneven gray stones.

    The only embellishments were a few decorative columns around the entrance, carved with the names of reputable students. These few names regularly got glances filled with awe and respect. Another way to motivate students to work hard.

    ¡®Remember, we discussed this? Today, you sing the national anthem with the other test-takers. You walk into the school, stand where you¡¯re supposed to, and sing when you are instructed to. I hope you haven¡¯t forgotten our national anthem? I will not be surprised if some of you have, considering your less than stellar performances on the mock exams¡¯, Vodrim told the group of orphans, glancing scornfully at some chosen few. It had been less than twenty four hours since they had last sung it, right before yesterday¡¯s lunch, as usual.

    Entering the building, the small group of around twenty orphans looked around.

    The large circular room they had entered was already filled with a few hundred students. Most students were slowly lining up into orderly rows, their feet almost perfectly aligned, directed by their teachers to their respective spots. Some were still hugging their worried parents goodbye.

    Karl, looking at one such child-father pair, felt his stomach sink slightly. A deep sense of envy filled him, his heart twisting.

    ¡®The government is the best possible nurturer of children, offering them the necessary care and support they require. Parents may often instill anti-religious propaganda. They poison the psyches of the children. Teachers and government officials possess the knowledge and expertise to discern what is in our best interests¡¯, Karl reminded himself, repeating what he had been told many times, then shaking his head to disperse his envy.

    After all the parents had been ushered out, the director of the school shouted for the singing to start, and the sound of two hundred voices filled the room, echoing around and creating an eerie impression.

    ¡®Rise up¡­ Take back what¡¯s ours¡­ ¡®

    All formal government tests consisted of first singing the anthem, then waiting for up to a few hours to be called.After being called, the student would press his citizen identification card to circled spot on a shining metallic box, and, after some creaking, the paper-like display window would slowly turn and show the classroom number, a small amount of black smoke floating down.

    When it was his turn, Karl walked up to the box near the exit of the large room.Black smoke had gathered around the machine, and it seemed as if the glinting metallic construction was rising out of a deep dark abyss.

    Feeling his hands shake, the boy glanced to his right. Seeing the slightly menacing face of his caretaker not far away, he quickly focused and walked closer. There was nothing to fear, the smoke was a symbol of Ru¡¯s presence in the world. After getting his number, he walked into the classroom, showed his identification card, and was soon at his designated desk, waiting for the test to start.

    Even though they regularly had informal tests at school to better prepare them for the stress of formal ones, Karl was very tense. It was important, as their caretakers had often repeated, not to shame the orphanage. In addition, having a high score would increase his reputation among his peers. What if he suddenly forgot how to solve systems of equations? Or how many square meters were in a hectare? Or the formula for average speed? There were many things to worry about!

    The examination was five hours long, with a short half an hour break for a quick snack. It was just a few cookies, so that the students didn¡¯t starve too much. Stingy government!

    The exam was made up of questions on mathematics, grammar, religion, and basic physics. There were also questions to test a student¡¯s thinking, included to give the people who were naturally intelligent a comparative advantage. Those were the hardest to prepare for.

    At first, Karl was so nervous that his hands were shaking, but as he got deeper into the theory, he relaxed, the many hours of preparation kicking in. The test seemed to go by smoothly, his nervousness not affecting the outcome.

    ___________________

    It is hard to describe the feeling of finishing a life-determining exam. Right after it ends, you are still flooded with adrenaline, and feel as if you can spend the rest of your day normally. You go around, and compare your answers with anyone you meet. Mostly you just emotionally talk at strangers, cursing the problems or maybe telling others how beautiful your solution was, and they do the same with you, but you barely hear them, still caught up in the haze of intense concentration on just a few sheets of paper. People rarely experience this energy-filled intellectual rush in normal life.

    After you somewhat calm down, you start thinking on how you will spend the rest of your day, how you will read through your textbooks to check if the answers you weren¡¯t sure of were correct, or how you will have a good rest by inviting your friends over to play board games, how you will help your caretakers with dinner, and all that. You are filled with the light and airy emotion of anticipation for the amazing and productive break day ahead of you. You are like a newborn child, your future full of possibilities and opportunities.

    ¡­.All of these beautiful, deep, and touching thoughts die down just a few hours later, when you are lying in bed and don¡¯t want to move. You are so lazy that you don¡¯t even respond to simple inquiries, just grunting in reply to external sounds. You are so motivated to study better, that whenever your eyes fall upon a stack of notes from late night studying, lying in the corner that always terrifies you, your face distorts and you quickly turn away, huddling deeper into your blankets. Many people are so motivated, that they even overpower their biological needs by skipping dinner, just not to move from bed.

    ____________

    Like so, his life a frenzy of studying mixed with occasional religious perusal, Karl¡¯s life flowed relatively smoothly for a few years.

 Chapter 4. School I

    It was the moment that happens only during deep night, when the entire sleeping world is suspended in the peaceful and quiet fog of dreams.

    Above the ground, the city of Medok was shining slightly, its white marble buildings reflecting the bright moonlight. Although the waking world was resting to prepare for the difficult day ahead, the nocturnal world was buzzing with activity. Night owls flew through the air, searching for rats and lizards in the tall green grasses; foxes crept into chicken coops to steal the eggs of innocent farmers; bats glided through the forests, hunting for insects; fireflies twinkled in the tall grass.

    Below the earth, deep under where Medok stood, there were no owls or moths. Night under the earth was peaceful and unchanging. The city of Sovok reflected this. Bottomless darkness enveloped the streets, and the only sounds which echoed through the long tunnels were the whirring of machinery and the hum of electricity. Lights after nightfall were not allowed outside on most floors, which made it easy to catch criminals.

    Karl¡¯s room, one of many millions, had remained in the same state for several hours. He had moved here two years ago, when he had turned sixteen and his school had given him the opportunity to live alone in its dormitory. He sometimes missed his old home at the orphanage, but that was just nostalgia. Now there weren¡¯t any annoying requirements, such as showering once a week, and the time it took to get to the Lyceum was much shorter.

    Deep breathing sounds came from the bed and a small brightly glowing alarm clock filled the room with rhythmic ticking. The clock cast the entire room in calm shadows, its light outlining the furniture and the small mechanical creations lying on Karl¡¯s desk. The gentle glow also uncovered the chaotic beauty, or, let us not lie, hellish mess, that adorned the floor, which made it impossible to walk without losing some sanity.

    The carpeted floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and littered with candy wrappers, empty instant porridge packets, bread crumbs, screws, nails and other dangerous objects; dirty clothes were scattered everywhere in chaotic arrangements, emitting unique odors.

    The area around the desk was filled with crumpled balls of paper ¨C the product of everyday human misery. Anyone looking at these papers would shed a tear of pity or two: it is truly sad how such innocent things as school and science competitions can force a person to exchange his happy and play-filled childhood for bleak and endless studying.

    Any person with even a slight sense of cleanliness would just have rolled up this nightmarish carpet together and thrown it away, but, as we know, there are many types of people in this world...

    Many hours passed in this stillness.

    At exactly seven thirty, the clock started buzzing and emitting annoying noises, and the figure on the bed started its daily routine of burrowing into the covers to defend itself from the auditory attack.

    Finally, stumbling and almost tripping on some of the litter, Karl picked up some of the less-smelly clothes from the floor, shook them, releasing clouds of dust, and put them on, his face slightly wincing with disgust.

    His eyes still half closed, he had a quick breakfast of instant porridge, which increased the amount of empty porridge packets on the floor by one. Then he stumbled into the dormitory corridor, and locked the door behind himself. Stealing was a common occurrence in the building, and it wasn¡¯t safe to keep the doors open.

    Dragging his feet, he entered the floor¡¯s communal bathroom where several other students were also getting ready for the day. Still half asleep, he staggered to a free sink, and, on instinct, attempted to kill the cockroach which was sitting on the spoon stuck in the jar with toothpaste powder. La cucaracha, used to the dangers of the world around it, quickly scurried away into a dark corner, avoiding Karl¡¯s hand.

    Karl, giving the corner an angry look, finally took out his toothbrush, scooped up some of the powder and, looking at his reflection in the dusty mirror, started carefully brushing his teeth. He was scared of visiting dentists, their treatments were notoriously painful.

    After brushing his teeth, he quickly returned to his room and approached his worship corner. The sacred corner¡¯s marvelous decorations were bathed in shadows. Karl reached for his pocket and found his lighter exactly where it should be. He took it out and lit the oil lamp hanging from a hook in the wall. As the flickering flame illuminated the corner, details usually obscured by inadequate lighting were revealed.

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    A corner-shelf held intricately inscribed metallic frames that contained complicated blueprints of Karl¡¯s favorite machines. Right in front of this display was a strange device, with a single large wheel.

    The boy poured a small amount of purified water into a metallic cup engraved with hieroglyphs from the Jrulan. He then placed the cup above the lamp¡¯s flames and started muttering verses, praying to God for a productive day.

    After a few minutes had passed, the water began to boil. Karl poured it into the strange device on the shelf, and soon the wheel on it started spinning. The machine was a simple example of a heat-steam engine, developed a few hundred years ago by one of the fathers of hot air engines, thanks to a divine revelation from Ru.

    Karl placed the cup with the remaining water on the shelf, right in front of the machine. He dropped down to his knees and stared at the vapor in the cup expectantly. The quickly spinning wheel of the Stirling engine filled the room with a low whir and created a small air current which scattered Karl¡¯s hair.

    After some minutes, the white vapor from the cup suddenly turned pitch black and rushed towards Karl, blasting his face with darkness. The boy¡¯s eyes momentary rolled up, his irises briefly disappearing. The black vapor then rushed towards the oil lamp, snuffing it out, and slowly floated down, dispersing on the room¡¯s floor and becoming inert.

    Laughing from joy, Karl wiped off the small black droplets that the vapor had left. His face clean and his mood light, he poured the remains of the purified water back, consequently finishing his morning routine.

    He was almost late to school! Soon, he was out of the dormitory, running towards the bus stop. A few other boarders were also hurrying along, and Karl greeted some familiar faces. He got on the bus in the nick of time, almost missing it. Religion took strong dedication!

    Sovok was the oldest city of the Free Union. It started out as a system of catacombs under Medok, the religious capital of Ven, where Ru practitioners took refuge after being persecuted for their religious beliefs and ¡®barbaric¡¯ culture.

    The catacombs were the best choice for the ancient Ru practitioners, as most were miners, well-acquainted with the underground. All other choices were extremely unattractive. Where would they go? The entire civilized world was against them, full of Okawaru fanatics. All of them would never let them practice their religion in peace, as, to them, Ru was evil itself, always in opposition to their Light god. Fleeing away from civilization was also impossible. Everything was colonized.

    As the technological advancements of the Ru people progressed, their temporary dwelling became a settlement. Years passed, but they never let go of their hate for everything to do with the Upper world, confined as they were underneath, yearning for the sunlight. Digging deeper and deeper into the earth, they soon started branching out, connecting to other underground cities formed by other banished Ru followers.

    Karl lived on the tenth floor from the top, dug three to four hundred years ago, where his Lyceum, the well-known X, was located. This floor was much less miserable than the fifteenth, where Karl used to live. In the mornings, the lines for powdered foods were shorter, there was less trash, less crumbling buildings, and the air was cleaner.

    The architecture of the tenth floor was an interesting mix of old buildings, distinguished by tasteful embellishments, usually various carvings or sculptures, and newer, uglier buildings. The newer buildings were almost identical, made of either blocks of concrete, or blocks of glass.

    The stark contrast between the two styles accentuated the unattractiveness of the newer structures, evoking fleeting responses of repulsion in even the most casual onlooker.

    Staring out of the window and calmly contemplating these buildings, Karl thought about his future.

    He was in his last year of high school, graduating in just a few months. He had gotten prize spots on the Y competition in physics, earning himself entrance without exams into the physics specialization at the best university in the Empire, Z. He planned to go there, so his future was set.

    He hadn¡¯t won any reputable math competition, and because of that wasn¡¯t that popular in his elitist class. Unlike Karl, around two thirds of his class had better results than him on math competitions. In fact, most had free entrance without any exams into the same university, to the math department.

    To no surprise, Karl¡¯s class was specially picked out from the pool of applicants to be the class with superior math abilities. Their teachers put a special emphasis upon succeeding in math competitions.

    Karl sighed. He disliked his class. Sure, he went to the events some of his more sociable classmates organized, regularly played board games and got drunk with some, but he felt no need to stretch out these relationships to university. Of course, his class was intelligent. They did their part in honoring Ru; after all, many were planning to dedicate their entire lives to science, but they weren¡¯t the people Karl wanted as friends. He wasn¡¯t sure why¡­ A few years ago he was on good terms with almost everyone, but as time passed, most of his friendships dissolved. Presently, he maintained contact with only one or two individuals.

    Was it because he found it hard to find topics to speak about? What was there to discuss? Math Olympiads? Everyone¡¯s results were common knowledge. The latest technological innovations? All the news channels were filled with information about them to the point of nausea. Teachers and homework? He was against it, as complaining about receiving knowledge was disrespectful to Ru. He himself didn¡¯t have anything unique in him, so he couldn¡¯t think of anything else to discuss. All he did except studying was occasionally build mechanical toys, mostly trains, and pray. He had almost no hobbies, most of them had been drained out of him because of overwork on his studies and competitions.

    Graduation was soon, and there were almost no competitions for university students... According to rumors, university students would have a freer life with less studying. What would he even spend the extra free time on?

    Shaking his head, tearing his eyes from the window and freeing his mind from depressing thoughts, he opened up his schoolbag and took out the Free Union¡¯s Language textbook. He had a mock exam in around twenty minutes. He started slowly reading and attempting to memorize the endless grammar and spelling rules.

 Chapter 5. School II

    The Zarul classroom was a small room cramped with many rows of desks. The walls were painted white, to better reflect light, their lower parts decorated with black smoke-like drawings, a symbol of Ru.

    Even though officially the Underground culture focused on scientific progress and looked down on anything to do with painting, music, and poetry, the specializations of their enemy, it was very difficult to live completely without them; religious-themed decorations were accepted. People not gifted with the intellect needed to appreciate the natural sciences or not working to support the Free Economy needed to occupy themselves with something, after all. And the right art was also a way to spread the appropriate beliefs.

    It wasn¡¯t as if the Tunnel dwellers were conscious of the absence of art in their lives. Those who were employed in average jobs came back after working long hours to their small and very similar apartments, tuned in to the news on their radios, did their house chores, and went to bed. They couldn¡¯t care any less about some blockhead¡¯s scribbling on paper that was supposed to look like a flower.

    Others, mainly people working in the science and military fields, had more free time; they were satisfied with the beauty found in the laws of nature, with learning about various wonders of engineering, or with coming up with stunning proofs of some mathematical theorems. Proofs can be as inspiring as art.

    There were, of course, people who felt differently, but who cares about them? After all, they were a minority, and had no deep desire to gather and protest. Society had always been like this.

    A small fly buzzed through the air, and sat on one of the corners of a plastic desk. After a few seconds of sitting and twitching its legs, it was lazily batted away.

    The classroom was full of students, and let us be frank, their diverse smells. The class of future mathematicians contained only around five girls, and this made the boys less inclined to wash themselves; they had no one to impress. Add to this the fact that this was the first lesson, and many students had run to school to arrive early for the Zarul exam¡­

    ¡®You have ten more minutes to submit your work. I will not waste an instant of my break for your sake. so do not think that I will accept anything after the bell¡¯, the language teacher said slowly in a bored voice, flipping through a student¡¯s homework and scribbling something there in red ink.

    The Zarul language teacher, or Zarulichka, as the students nicknamed her, was an interesting being. Her skin, like most Tunnel dwellers, was an almost unnatural shade of pale white. This color gave her an almost sickly appearance, which she partially covered up by carefully applying a thin layer of rouge on her cheeks.

    Her dress flowed around her like falling water taken from the river of Seth, cloaking her in a layer of darkness. Her dyed hair, pinned into a neat bun, matched with the dress; although its roots were silvery, betraying her age. Generally, she dressed carefully, like expected from any person choosing to dedicate their life to humanities studies.

    The gender ratio in humanities was massively skewed toward females, so their graduates focused much more on appearances and self-presentation than others. A natural desire to attract males made these women compete among themselves. Or was it something else? Maybe it was just rooted in their culture?

    The phrase uttered slowly and carelessly by this woman caused a ripple in the classroom. Many of the students were visibly startled and started furiously scratching at their papers, and the atmosphere beyond the teacher¡¯s desk filled with a wild energy.

    Each movement of the minute hand of the clock over the teacher¡¯s desk now became a terrible and horrifying symbol of the approaching end. God forbid if a pen suddenly ran out of ink! Many student¡¯s hands started shaking, and the room plunged into a terrifying and nervous abyss.

    The only color other than shades of black and white in the teacher¡¯s appearance were her piercing, evilly glinting frosty eyes. She sometimes used them to make chattering classes submit and, when she was in the mood, to control the incessant cheating happening at every possible opportunity.

    Of course, as all students are always told, cheating is a terrible crime. Instead of learning during the time in life when your brain is most receptive to new information and works the quickest, you take the easy way out, procrastinating and then just stupidly copying off of someone. How can you even think of any achievement in life when you can¡¯t even force yourself to study unpleasant things? How can you face Ru¡¯s judgment before entering the afterlife? Sinning before even becoming an adult?

    Why go to the class at all and waste precious minutes of your productive years just to get some little grade or mark of attendance written on a piece of paper?

    Grades in school didn¡¯t play any role in university admissions, the only thing that could happen was being kicked out for not passing a class.

    Even that was pretty hard to achieve, only one or at most two out of around thirty classmates were forced to leave each year, and almost never because of failing Zarul class. Zarul was of course considered less important that Algebra or Geometry, so the Lyceum made the exams much easier. Nothing to fear.

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    Nevertheless, there wasn¡¯t a single person in the mathematics-focused class who didn¡¯t cheat regularly. The reason was simple. That failure rate was a trick. It was almost impossible to survive without cheating! The amount of homework you received in any class, just didn¡¯t add up to what a normal sane person could complete, even if he did nothing but eat, sleep and study. Yes, if you were highly motivated, it was possible, but not even close to everyone was like this.

    That¡¯s why most classes, except, of course, Algebra, Geometry, and partially Physics, were a mainly a group effort. There would always be one or two people in class who were big fans of, say, Chemistry.

    They would do the homework very diligently, write it down in a neat and legible way, and then pass it around to their friends during break time. These friends usually also had friends, so in the end most, if not all, of the class would have the chance to see the correct answers and write them down. But in some classes, of course it was very hard to survive only on cheating, because the in-class exams were strictly observed. Thankfully, Zarul was not one of these brutal classes.

    Karl was one of many students who survived in Zarul class only thanks to cheating. He was proudly in the middle of the class rankings, with a solid reputation with the Zarulichka for being a hardworking, although not very gifted, boy. Having a good reputation always helps in the face of a crisis; when you are caught, for example.

    Karl had faithfully worked on the written parts of the exam ¨C copying those off was risky, because even an idiot can understand that something is wrong when he is handed two identical works, and now only the multiple choice questions were left. He knew his weaknesses, and grammar, which the questions he had skipped focused on, was one of them.

    Knowing that there was no other choice, the boy started adjusting his posture and, after a moment, quickly glanced at the teacher. She was immersed in adding interesting commentary to the piece of paper in front of her. Karl smiled to himself. He had chosen this spot exactly for what he was about to do.

    He reached out and quickly tapped the girl sitting in front of him. He knew that she had finished her exam, it was obvious that she was just checking her answers.

    The girl in front of him, Fernande, was someone he sometimes joked around with, and she had been a perfectly diligent student since fifth grade, when they had met in the math circle that the Lyceum hosted for its¡¯ students. He was fresh out of the orphanage then, and didn¡¯t know what hell awaited him in the school he had so wanted to get in¡­

    Fernande glanced back, saw Karl¡¯s desperate eyes, and, shaking her head in disapproval, tilted slightly to the right, showing her worksheet.

    ¡®Which ones?¡¯, she whispered, her voice barely audible.

    ¡®Multiple choice,¡¯ Karl whispered back, glancing nervously at the teacher. She was still flipping through someone¡¯s homework, humming slightly under her breath.

    The perfectly diligent student slowly flipped through her worksheet where all the answers were marked with neat and confident circles, showing them to the black-haired student.

    Karl¡¯s heart, which had been beating wildly due to the fear of getting a bad grade quickly calmed down, and he started efficiently copying off his good friend, his manner quick and practiced. Friends were amazing!

    After around a minute or two, the boy had finished, and, after sweetly smiling to the respected and useful girl, he made a deeply concentrated expression appear on his face, just in case, and started flipping through the answer sheet, as if he were checking his answers.

    The bell rung. It was time for break.

    Walking out into the corridor with his helpful friend, and discussing the solutions to the mathematics homework, he stopped, letting her copy off one annoying problem full of calculations, which she hadn¡¯t managed to get right after a few hours of work, and then went to lunch, where, as always, Max was probably waiting for him.

    Max, whom he had known since his years at the elite orphanage for gifted children, had also tested into the X Lyceum many years ago. Unfortunately, they had tested into different classes. They still met up at least once a day.

    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª

    The cafeteria was a badly repaired circular room with rough walls, the cut stones in the wall letting some earth peek through. Karl adjusted his sweater, rubbing his hands. The pipes with hot water running along the cafeteria¡¯s perimeter did close to nothing to stop the cold from seeping in. The whole place was unusually chilly. One might think that such a well-known Lyceum as Karl¡¯s would have the money to repair it¡­ Was is corruption?

    No, the cold must be there as a lesson on the adversities of life. If external conditions are always pleasant, what will teach you to overcome hardship? The cold was even refreshing, Karl realized, and it helped him think faster. Yes, the cold was intentional.

    Standing in line to get his portion of beetroot soup with mashed potatoes as a side dish (this was the free food all students from poorer backgrounds were given, others bought or brought their own food), and thinking idly about his depressing situation, his eyes wandered around the room, pausing for a few seconds at the huge portrait of their Leader over the entrance.

    His eyes drifted to the Free Union¡¯s national anthem carved in large letters right next to Grandfather Ved¡¯s smiling and benevolent face. ¡®Rise up¡­¡¯

    Karl¡¯s gloomy and tired face lightened up, he smiled, his heart filling with pride for the beautifully put together words. He would soon have the chance to serve his motherland! Just a few years until he graduated from university!

    Anyways, who cares that much about how chilly it is? The pursuit of knowledge is much more important and fulfilling.

    He took his tray and went to the table where he and Max usually met up. He slowly started eating his soup, staring at the small groups forming and transforming around him. A group of younger boys were sitting on the adjacent table, laughing and talking about something trivial. Karl felt his heart pinch slightly, his stomach sinking, and his briefly improved mood plunged back to where it was.

    Even if they were younger, stupider, you can say, they all had many friends whom they could spend their lunch breaks with. Karl wasn¡¯t as sociable. He didn¡¯t remember the last time he ate with anyone but his childhood friend and the people Max brought. Was there something wrong with him? Was he just not good enough at mathematics to be respected and popular? Karl sighed, chewing a potato. Yes, there must be something wrong with him. He was too lazy, he should have at least won the V competition in math.

    Lost in his thoughts, Karl didn¡¯t notice his friend, along with the acquaintance he brought, approach the table.

    ¡®Greetings, the least useful of all my acquaintances!¡¯, Max smiled, his smile nasty and mocking. The only thing that slightly ruined it were his somewhat crooked teeth. Max liked complaining about how his bad genes gave him these teeth, and how he was stuck with them for life.

    ¡®Salutations, meaningless scrap of society!¡¯, Karl smiled, his smile just as nasty. Those hours of reading dictionaries payed well, allowing him to add flowery words in carefully calculated situations. He quickly glanced at the person Max had brought along this time, offering him a slightly less toxic greeting.

    Shepk was a boy Karl knew well. Tall and thin, with a calm and fixed gaze, he was generally pretty quiet. He gave off a very withdrawn aura, not showing a lot of emotions, and rarely commented on anything. When he did, however, it would be something so witty that the entire audience would try to understand what he had said for a few seconds, then, after finally understanding, explode into laughter. They met often in the after school club, playing chess, a game they both deeply enjoyed.

    They ate in relative calmness, mostly sharing the stories of what had happened in their respective classes and complaining as much as possible about everything.

 Chapter 6. School III

    A small krysa sitting in a shadowy corner of the cafeteria twitched its whiskers, squinting its beady eyes at the bright light. It had just scurried out of its dark home and was unused to the electrical light. The rodent sniffed the air and felt the pleasant aroma of food fill its nose. It was hungry. Very hungry. Its tiny paws were weak from lack of food.

    The small population of krysas in the Lyceum led an unfortunate life. Born in a place full of humans, they had to be quick and nimble. Many died quickly in the claws of local cats, some succumbed to illness, some managed to find a way out into the streets, and others were caught by cruel children. The rest suffered, fighting to survive. Just like the students. The students studied not to be kicked out, and the krysas fought not to die of hunger. There was an odd symmetry to their positions.

    The only time when the krysas could hope to se nourrir in peace was during the night, when the entire cafeteria, usually full of children¡¯s laughter and an endless fluctuating stream of people, was still, and the lights were off. As soon as the last worker had left, they scurried out of their holes, scrambling and injuring each other for crumbs. There usually wasn¡¯t enough. Children were hungry creatures, just like the krysas, and were careful with their food.

    This particular krysa was much smaller than the rest and could never hope to equal others in a direct fight. So it had to obtain food during the day.

    It was carefully monitoring the air vibrations coming towards its ears, trying to determine the amount of danger it would face if it suddenly scurried out. Would it be noticed? Would it be chased after? The krysa tried to find its food near quieter tables, where the people were usually lost deep in their thoughts and didn¡¯t pay attention to their surroundings. Maybe, like Karl, they were analyzing their lives and trying to find purpose in them, or, like lazier students, frantically scribbling away at their homework, sometimes putting a spoon full of unidentified mush into their mouths. The dumb kryslet was intensely concentrated, dedicating its entire five senses to find the perfect moment to jump out. Its life depended on it.

    A few floors below the cafeteria, a tired janitor checked his watch, and reached for a switch. Electricity coursed through an electromagnetic coil, which created a magnetic force that pulled on a small metal plate. A hammer attached to the plate hit the gong, at the same time breaking the electrical circuit. The coil stopped generating a field, the force pulling the plate and the hammer disappeared and they moved back. The circuit closed again, and the process repeated. This generated a small bit of dark smoke.

    The entire cafeteria echoed with cheerful chiming, and the gleaming golden metal of the school bell was outlined in beautiful trailing darkness.

    The kryslet shuttered, spooked by the loud and aggressive noise, and scurried away into its dark hole. It would most likely go hungry today. It had missed its opportunity. Damnation!

    A few minutes later, Karl, along with a few other classmates, was standing next to a metallic door on the fifth floor. The depressingly dull corridor was dotted with around fifteen classrooms on each side. The floor was carpeted, although the individual colors were obscured by a shallow layer of dark fog. Some classrooms were almost completely trapped in the earth, accessible only through identical iron doors; others had windows looking out into the hallway so that any passerby could see what was happening inside.

    The corridor had close to no lighting. Everyone passed most of their days sitting in classrooms anyway.

    The light in the corridor came mainly from inside the classrooms, which were much better lit. Playing with the thin layer of slightly shifting fog covering the floor, it created interesting shadows which sometimes terrified younger students.

    This same light illuminated the many sketches of famous scientists hanging on the walls. The unlucky portraits which hung in the shadowy parts of the corridors became as shadows themselves and, as the light glimmered, oscillating slightly in intensity, these shadows seemed to almost move.

    The peaceful corridor was completely silent, save for the soft echo of the murmurings and shiftings of the small groups of uneasy students hovering around every fifth door. These students were the group of brazen teenagers that were regularly late to class each Wednesday after lunch, slightly respected and pitied by the rest, because they were always screamed at.

    The group of courageous students that interests us wasn¡¯t very large, four or five people. Most of them were out of breath, having run up five floors from the cafeteria. The ones who had had some time to rest were nervously looking at the others, waiting for someone to go in and become the first victim of the bloodthirsty geography teacher.

    ¡®Go in, what are you waiting for?¡¯, Karl urged the boy standing in front of him. ¡®You¡¯re holding us up.¡¯

    The boy was the closest to the door, and he had already recovered his breathing, so the only thing stopping him was fear. He had put his ear to the door, and was listening to the faint sounds of the teacher speaking, trying to find the best moment to quietly slip in.

    The boy glanced at the many pairs of innocent eyes looking at him expectantly. He realized his position. Ignoring Karl¡¯s words would brand him a coward¡­ He sighed and opened the door a crack, peeking in. The door creaked loudly, its metal hinges badly oiled. The sound coming from the classroom instantly stopped, and the whole gang outside started trembling slightly in fear. The boy, understanding that there was no way out, confidently walked in, and, after a few moments, sounds of complete verbal annihilation reached the good-for-nothings.

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    Right after the poor student had been humiliated, the rest of the group gathered their confidence, and walking in one-by-one, calmly took their seats. The geography teacher¡¯s kind face darkened more with each newcomer, and at last she started to scold the whole class, her voice slightly trembling from anger and sadness.

    ¡®You are supposed to be the most elite class of this school, to be an example for the other classes and the younger years¡¯ She stared at each of the rule-breakers in turn, and her gaze filled with deep loathing. ¡®How can it be that you disrespect me, your teacher, so much? I still remember your predecessors¡­¡¯ She made a pause, and her face softened.

    ¡®It was such a pleasure teaching them¡­. I never saw a single case of cheating, with them I felt like I was actually imparting knowledge, and not teaching idiots...¡¯

    ¡®And you, cursed cretins, do you have any conscience? Next time, I will kick you out, and force you to stand in the corridor for the whole class. How dare you be late?! The moral fabric of the new generation is degrading...¡¯

    And so on and on.

    After some time had passed, the class waiting patiently for her to finish, the geography teacher calmed down. ¡®Now, since you were late, you will be the first ones to submit your homework¡¯.

    Damnation! Homework involved naming all of the ninety cities and what they specialized in, pointing them out on a map, in front of everyone. Karl was ready, thankfully, but many students counted on having time during the lesson to quickly finish their memorization.

    After the teacher had finished listening to the homework and a few students had been humiliated, the real lesson began.

    ¡®Today, we will be learning about how the Free Union obtains energy. Flip to page two hundred. Fernande, read the passage out loud, with intonation.¡¯ The geography teacher¡¯s face had lightened up, regaining its kind mien. ¡®Children, prepare your notebooks, and write down the numbers carefully!¡¯ Rustling sounds filled the classroom.

    ¡®Our glorious Free Union¡¯s energy sector is much more developed than the primitive one of our war-seeking neighbors. We must thank scientists and engineers, the backbone of our Nation, as well as God, who is always helping them out with divine inspiration, for this great achievement. They are constantly working hard at advancing Science and bolstering our technological advancements.

    The energy sector is multifaceted. It encompasses a large range of industries (coal mining, natural gas, Venite mining), power generation, as well as fuel and energy transportation infrastructure (pipelines, electric power transmission lines, inter-floor transmission and transportation lines). In some cities, it also includes the oil refining industry...¡¯

    ¡®...Discovered in 600 by the celebrated physicist Notwen C., Ru preserve his genius, Venite is the most efficient power source known to man. It provides 60% of the energy produced in the capital, Sovok, and 71% of all the energy consumed by the Free Union. Lower, see Fig. 20, is a table of the energy consumption of different regions of the FURP, and a table showing the structure of energy production of key Union cities. On the Venite power stations (VPSs), by combining the mineral with ethyl spirit, a huge amount(133.9 KF/tonne of pure Venite) of energy is released, turning the water to steam, which then pushes levers that generate an electrical current¡­.¡¯

    ¡®¡­Mining for coal, Venite, and other compounds now happens on the lowest floors of the cities...¡¯

    After listening to the boring and monotonous voice of his acquaintance reading out things everyone already knew, then listing cities which had the biggest yield of the mineral per year (writing a two-page report on it would probably be next week¡¯s homework...), Karl glanced around, checking that the teacher wasn¡¯t looking. He slowly reached into his jacket¡¯s pocket, taking out a slightly crumpled piece of paper, and hid it behind his notebook, which was lying under the opened textbook. He shifted the piece up slightly, and glanced at the printed math problem. Unscrewing his pen and dipping it into the bottle of ink he kept on his desk, he started scribbling in his geography notebook, thinking on how to approach the geometry problem. His eyes glinted in interest at the beautiful triangles and circles.

    If only a fraction of this fire would have gone into geography!

    The entire last row of Karl¡¯s class had already started solving math problems and ignoring the useless nattering on about topics they were not interested in. The first rows, where Karl was sitting, thanks to being late, were slightly less active, fearful of the teacher coming close and seeing their illegal activity. Some of them, like Karl, had also decided to risk it. The deadline for submitting the problems was in a day!

    After some time of this pleasant and fun activity, Karl had already solved around two of the easiest ones. Immersed in his work, and quietly clicking his tongue, a strange habit he had when we was deeply concentrated, Karl was completely unaware of what was happening around him¡­

    ¡®You! How dare you disrespect my lesson!¡¯ the angry geography teacher¡¯s voice was alarmingly close. ¡®Karl, put away your mathematics immediately!¡¯, she spit out.

    She came closer, and, lifting Karl¡¯s notebook, took away the paper with the math tasks and placed it on her desk. ¡®Come to me after the lesson ends, I will return it to you.¡¯ The rest of the class, noticing her anger, quickly hid their own sheets and made innocent and condemning expressions appear on their faces.

    Karl, nodding guiltily, put away his pen and pretended to be concentrated on the lesson.

    Staring vapidly into space in the direction of the blackboard, he let random thoughts slowly flow through his mind. What use was there to listening to random facts about geography? He would never need them in his upcoming life of servitude to science. Geography didn¡¯t help his mathematics or his physics abilities. Anyways, why was the school so demanding to subjects that didn¡¯t bolster its national rankings? Didn¡¯t it want students to win science competitions? National subject competition results were one of the few factors that influenced the rankings. Why didn¡¯t it just leave the mathematical class alone, then? Why force them to memorize geographical facts that had no relevance to their chosen specialization? What did the school administration want?

    Karl felt his eyes slowly closing. He used all of his willpower to stay awake, but he had barely slept during the night, frantically finishing his homework. After around ten minutes he was napping on his desk. The kind teacher let sleeping students sleep on because she thought that getting enough sleep was important. For Karl, the rest of the class passed in a drowsy bliss.

 Chapter 7. School IV

    Time was running, and the cold lights in the Tunnels progressively dimmed. The Lyceum¡¯s windows now glowed a golden color, contrasting with the surroundings. From the outside, at least, the unchanging building looked homely, warm, and inviting.

    The school was located at the end of a short tunnel diverging from the main street, so the entire place was very quiet when the children were studying. Some artificial grass was planted not far away from the building; it was used as a space for physical education.

    A cat was perched on top of a bicycle stop across the Lyceum, and was staring, entranced, at the slightly moving shadows of people seen in the building¡¯s bright windows, one of the few things that changed with time. Its green gaze was calm and fixed, showing no emotions and completely detached. There was no wind, and the whole world seemed to be covered with a dull fog.

    As time passed, the cat¡¯s eyes gradually shifted towards a ticking clock.

    The clock was a unique creation. It was gifted to the Lyceum by the Sovok mayor many years ago, ¡®For a long tradition of excellence in education¡¯, as was written on a small plaque attached to it. The reasons why the gift was a clock and not, for example, funds for repairing the heating, were unclear. In any case, the school was proud of it, it was even a small tradition to explain its general working to students on their first physics lesson, to make them enthusiastic about mechanics. This method was effective for the first few lessons until the poor seventh-graders understood that they would be calculating forces and the work of highly idealized pulley systems for an entire month!

    The clock itself didn¡¯t contain any unusual technology, but it looked great. Its white face was engraved in gold with the names of notable students, and you could open the cover to watch the silvery gears inside interact with each other. Clever engineers had created a system where the dark fog produced by the ticking trickled down the sides.

    The black cat was now observing the movements of the second hand as it endlessly traced the same circle. The hour hand was also moving, but much slower. The cat was patient, but not patient enough to keep track of this change. To the cat, time was measured in seconds.

    As the minutes dribbled, the hour hand moved closer and closer to the sixth division. Soon, the clock started chiming slightly, and this was followed by the school bell going off. Almost immediately a stream of people started rushing out of the building. It was at this time that many extracurricular clubs ended, and for most students school was over for the day. Some clubs, mainly the ones focusing on preparing students for subject competitions, would continue to function for a few hours more, but they were in the minority.

    The cat, pulled from its trance by the loud noises and scared by the huge crowd of hyperactive and mostly happy children, quickly jumped down and ran in the direction of the closest garbage-tunnel, where it would most certainly find a few plump snacks. Its previously detached and glassy eyes now gleamed a sharp green, showing cunning and mischievousness.

    When the initial crowd had somewhat thinned, two boys were seen walking out, the taller one talking with the shorter, black-haired one. It was harder to distinguish what exactly the taller one was saying, as his tone was very soft, barely audible.

    Let us approach closer.

    ___

    ¡®How do you believe in all of this nonsense? I think that the stories about Ru are nice, but¡¯, Max paused. Karl prepared for a retort, but Max was faster.

    ¡®¡­ You know that you don¡¯t have that much free time? Why are you wasting it on praying, instead of studying?¡¯

    ¡®I have enough time! It¡¯s you who doesn¡¯t have the skills to flourish while leaving time for spiritual development!¡¯ Karl smirked. His dictionary reading experience was shining, as always.

    Max¡¯s whispering voice gained intensity. ¡®Whatever, I am trying to have a serious discussion, stop ruining it with your dumb comments! My dad says that religion is just another way for the government to control the stupid part of the population, so that they all think in similar ways. Basically, it¡¯s you who¡¯s stupid.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not stupid! How many times per day do I have refresh your snailish memory on this? You with your senseless talk again! And why are you speaking in such a soft voice? You know I like arguing, so I won¡¯t be offended by your comments, don¡¯t worry¡¯

    His childhood friend looked at him blankly for a few moments, his entire face filled with incredulity, then burst out laughing. ¡®Well, no comment, Karl¡­ Do you know what happened to Marel Rost? At this rate, you¡¯re going to stay stupid forever... ¡¯

    Karl rolled his eyes, ¡®Who the hell is Marel Rost? Okay, fine, how is the government controlling me?¡¯

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡®How can you be so clueless? Look, remember, on the radio a few days ago, a priest, he was high-ranking, an Erzt, I think; said Ru appreciated citizens dedicating their lives to serving in the military? And that we should develop our weapons to break the Empire of Ven¡¯s magic?¡¯ Max sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡®As my dad said then, when did Ru become a war god? Of course, our Union is in good hands, and our glorious leader Grandfather Ved is wise, and we should go to war as soon as possible, but Ru, even if he existed, is supposed to be a god of science, not war. How do you defend this obvious contradiction?¡¯

    ¡®Your parents are wrong; your dad is polluting your head with nonsense, as always. I mean, he¡¯s just a builder, not even a scientist! Ru isn¡¯t just the god of science, he also cares about us! He has a grudge against Okawaru followers because they banished and persecuted us. It¡¯s only natural for him to want us to want to take back what¡¯s ours¡¯. Karl was proud of his impeccable logic, he loved winning arguments with his friend! Pausing for a few moments, he continued.

    ¡®I think you also said that Ru doesn¡¯t exist? I know you¡¯re an¡­¡¯ Here his voice grew into a whisper. ¡®...atheist¡¯. At this Karl¡¯s face filled with slight disgust. ¡®But how would you explain the dark smoke and Inspirations that grant us knowledge? Also, the scriptures in the Jrulan¡­ When you recite them, there¡¯s always an effect. Like when I pray in the mornings, you know?

    ¡®The smoke is just a thing that hasn¡¯t been researched enough! The Jrulan is just a book that tries to mysticize a completely natural phenomenon! Just like the alchemists did with chemistry. And Inspirations are an invention, they don¡¯t exist, it¡¯s all in the mind!¡¯ Max paused, visibly agitated, and glanced around. They were in a very crowded tunnel. ¡®Anyways, I think I¡¯m speaking too loudly, let¡¯s end this for now, and continue some other day!¡¯

    ¡®Well, okay, I¡¯ve won the argument¡¯, Karl laughed gleefully.

    ______________

    A lot of thought was put in by the priesthood on where to place temples. According to the Jrulan, Ru, unlike his brother, valued chaos. So it would seem natural to place his temples at random places on each level. However, because the population density was not evenly distributed, this this would make the average travel time to a temple big. And Ru was said to value efficiency even more than chaos. This preference is what draws us, his followers, to progress to an ideal advanced civilization, where food would be plentiful, everyone could focus on science, and Okawaru with his illogical magic-like powers would be spit at.

    After a long period of debates, it had been decided to place the temples in carefully calculated, but at first glance random places. They did this by drawing the phase portrait of the approximate system of equations describing the behavior of Ru¡¯s smoke. Finding the special points, they mapped them into the city. Instead of just calculating the population density and taking the local centers of mass, they decided to turn to God¡¯s guidance. Ru¡¯s smoke showed his will, and this was obviously the way their god sent them signs. Finally, they started to dig with the deep approval of the government.

    Because of this brilliant decision, Karl was forced to walk from school for around forty minutes each Wednesday and Sunday to pray. Usually, he would leave the Lyceum when the Tunnels were darkened. At this time the thick black smoke pooled at his feet to his ankles, making them disappear. Max rarely accompanied him on these walks. When he did, Karl was grateful, as it made him feel less lonely.

    Karl liked these long walks. It was one of the few times when he could observe how different people lived, stop at shopping windows, and eavesdrop on mundane conversations. Another thing he liked was pausing at street shows. They reminded him of his careless and bright childhood.

    ¡®Look there! There¡¯s a show!¡¯

    Street shows in tunnels with a lot of traffic were a common way for poorer citizens to make money. These shows weren¡¯t anything special, just a way to amuse people and to get a few coins. Mostly, they were based on playing with light and using Ru¡¯s smoke in creative ways.

    The tunnel Karl and Max were walking through led to the main circle of the entire level. A small crowd was blocking the exit, which made it close to impossible to pass through without stopping to take a glace at what was happening. Was this the performers¡¯ intentions?

    As soon as he noticed the show, Karl began running, not wanting to miss a single moment. He shoved through the crowd to find a perfect spot that would fit two. Karl was a considerate friend. Finally, they could see what was happening.

    The dimmed lights produced a natural darkness, and a few carefully placed flashlights illuminated a small section of floor. It seemed that these performers didn¡¯t even have money for professional stage lighting. The crowd that had gathered was small, but tightly packed.

    An old man was standing in front of the crowd in the place where the light was brightest. He was dressed in black, formal clothing. His white hair was cut to the shoulders and he had no beard. His blue eyes were warm and the corners were wrinkled, which gave the upper part of his face a kind impression. At the same time, his mouth drew a firm line, and when he spoke, you could sometimes notice a few broken teeth.

    He was presently finishing the reciting of a verse in the old reading of the Jrulan, using the original pronunciation of the ancient characters. It was unclear which verse it was exactly, and he stumbled a few times, his tongue twisting at the strange sounds. Any public demonstration had to be somehow related to religion, so this was standard practice.

    ¡®And now, we will begin.¡¯ The old man took out his hat and placed it on the floor in front of the crowd. A few coins dropped in. He fluidly sat with his back to the people, and started fiddling with the flashlights.

    A girl in a fine white dress that reached the floorcame into the illuminated space.Her dark browneyes glimmered in the light, their expression similar to the old man¡¯s. Maybe they were relatives? Her skin showedits natural pale color, tunnel dwellers did not get any sun.Her fingers were adorned with black rings,which seemed to be inscribed with hieroglyphs.The crowd murmured, curious.

    The grandfather turned a few of the flashlights off. Because of the darkness, the girl¡¯s eyes were cast in shadows, and her skin, along with the dress, glowed. White refracted light.

    She stood in the center for a few moments. Then, she started moving slowly and emotionally. Her eyes weren¡¯t visible, but her each of her movements conveyed deep suffering. There was no sound.

    At first, she was only moving her arms, but then something changed. The old man turned off one more flashlight, and, as her silvery contours faded into the darkness, her sorrowful dance turned happier, but her expression remained firm. She tapped the floor a few times with the soles of her feet, and started spinning. Clicking the rings on her fingers, she began creating a chaotic rhythm. As dark smoke flew from the rings, it pooled in rings, orbiting about her. The girl¡¯s red mouth pulled into a happy smile, and her white teeth sometimes flashed through the darkness.

    After some time had passed, the girl stopped moving, out of breath, and bowed to the crowd. The old man slowly turned on the flashlights, and turned to the crowd. The girl¡¯s happy expression had become more suited to her surroundings, steely and desolate.

    After a few silent moments, the crowd started politely clapping. Free performances were nice, although not on the level of true devotees. ¡®What good technique! And such ingenious usage of our Lord¡¯s power!¡¯ A few more coins dropped into the hat.

    Karl was impressed. The girl definitely knew how to move in complicated ways. It must have taken a lot of effort to prepare for the performance! He rummaged in his pockets for change, but found none. It hurt to be poor. He turned to left, half-listening to Max¡¯s emotional praising of the resonance between the Jrulan verses and the girl¡¯s acting. His friend was kind of weird.

    They needed to hurry! The path to the Temple wasn¡¯t that close.

 Chapter 8. School V.

    The pipe was cold. Did they turn off the hot water again? A ragged beggar slowly sat up on his mat. The smoke on the floor was thicker and heavier than usual. Before, his features partially melted into it and he was almost invisible in his small hovel under the pipe, but now, as he switched positions, his face became more discernible.

    Drinking had colored his pale white skin into a red tone and, as he reached for his bottle of alcohol diluted with water, his bony wrists became visible.

    The beggar looked for a long moment at the bottle and at the murky liquid inside. Why did he drink? Deep in thought, he stared at the bottle. The tunnel he slept in wasn¡¯t deserted. Occasionally, normal people passed by.

    The beggar shifted his gaze to them. Hurrying somewhere... After a few minutes of clear thought, he felt a sense of nausea invade him. Looking back at the bottle, he opened it, put it to his mouth, and gulped some of the drink down. His expression didn¡¯t change. His eyes moved back to the passersby. Some of them glanced at him, but quickly looked away. He was at the bottom of society. The beggar took another gulp.

    After a few moments of continuing to look at people, he stood up. His head hurt. He took out a metallic cup, carefully hid his bottle in his hovel¡¯s special place, and slowly stumbled out, spitting on the ground a few times to disperse the smell of alcohol coming from his mouth. His expression was dead and spiritless.

    The open space was full of life and activity. According to game theory, shops selling similar objects tend to gather in clusters, and this circle was a good example of this. Generally, the shops here sold clothing and small trinkets, mostly simple jewelry.

    The market was spiral in shape, twisted clockwise, with only one entrance and exit. The ceiling was curved, covered in a pure white mosaic, with a circle of muted red stones in the middle. Almost none of the underground dwellers had ever seen the sun, and probably wouldn¡¯t in their lifetime, so they didn¡¯t care about its real color. The mosaic was there to remind citizens of the world that waited for them above the ground.

    In the center of the spiral was the temple. The design of the place was beautiful, in a sense. But the tunnel dwellers would never admit this. They would say that it was well-planned, to maximize the space for shop-owners to sell their wares. Were there more ways to increase the area for potential stands? What is the optimal way to cover a circle with lines, minimizing the cost? We will think on this later.

    The beggar slowly walked towards the center. His eyes darted around, looking at the objects on display, and checking if he could steal anything to sell later and buy more alcohol. It wasn¡¯t hard to disappear into the crowd, but many of the shop owners knew him, and were wary. Their cruel gazes were something the beggar was used to.

    Occasionally shoving a few people to the side, he entered the open space in the middle, and, leaning on the metallic bars of the gate that surrounded the temple, he stopped, thrusting his cup out. The black smoke around him was so thick that everything below his knees was invisible. An indicator of divine presence¡­

    As he did this, he felt a sense of dirty shame invade him. What did these people think, as they glanced at him in his misery? Did his son, who ran away after a harsh beating of his, still remember him? What would he do if he saw him like this? Would he spit on him? This quick flutter of emotion disappeared as he remembered the bottle he had hidden.

    After this, his face once again became expressionless, his mouth tightly shut to not let the smell of alcohol out, and he stared at the changing crowd and at the people entering and exiting the temple, occasionally murmuring a few pitiful words to attract attention. Who was better dressed? Who was more susceptible to his begging?

    The beggar¡¯s eyes focused on a pair of tall children. Both of them were very thin. Useless to rob or beg at. Would they hold value as hostages? Probably not. And he wasn¡¯t ready for the hassle. Their expressions were animated and full of life. They were probably there to fulfill the weekly quota for visiting the temple. He had never been happy. His parents never cared about him, and he was always hungry. The only times he remembered being close to that emotion was in deep childhood, when he dug around the tunnels with the other children¡­ There was also the feeling of power he got when he hit his son and wife. Yes¡­ it was great to feel like he was the one in charge, the way they cried and hid away... What had Ru ever done for him? The beggar hoped, for a moment, that these happy children would become like him, useless and miserable, with no one to rely on. Alcohol¡­ He imagined the burn. Ah, if only the water that dripped from the pipes he slept under were alcohol. How much better his life would be. He wouldn¡¯t have to beg then.

    The children entered the open gate, and approached the woman sitting behind a glass window. Youth had left her; and her mouth was surround by frown lines, giving her face a perpetually unsatisfied expression; her stupid, glassy eyes held a malicious glint. She was dressed in black; her head was covered by a scarf, intricately decorated by a complicated pattern of white string. The pattern formed words of the easily recognizable Quf script, the language of the Jrulan. As they waited for her to react to their presence, Max peered at the scarf. He knew a few of the characters.

    The enclosed area was sparsely populated, and the people that they saw were calm and composed. It was late, and the day had been long.

    ¡®Names and identification¡¯

    They took out their identification slips and slid them over the counter. Her expression was bored and lifeless, similar to the beggar¡¯s. She took the two engraved metal pieces. Her silence created a tension in the air.

    Behind the glass, she shifted, adjusting her spectacles, took out a stack of papers, and quickly started paging through them, finding the boys¡¯ attendance cards. She opened her ink bottle, and the air filled with a slight scent of mold. Dipping her pen, she carefully traced out their identity numbers in the attendance binder, not daring to make a mistake in the series of twenty numbers, marked the time, and made another mark on their attendance cards. The whole process was strangely similar to buying a train ticket.

    ¡®Go on, children, pray well¡¯, she muttered the customary phrase that she was obligated to pronounce.

    ¡®We aren¡¯t children !¡¯ Max turned to Karl. ¡®What an old hag. Let¡¯s hurry.¡¯

    The two boys approached the entrance to the Temple, a hole in the ground going deep into the earth. It was difficult for engineers to plan these temples. They had to ensure these underground caves didn¡¯t interfere with the floors below and destabilize everything. But that was their god¡¯s desire, so it must be done. Thinking more on it, maybe it wasn¡¯t that difficult, as each new floor was almost a copy of the previous one, except for small variations in style.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The wide staircase, arranged in a counterclockwise spiral, glowed a flickering red. It was probably some clever fluorescent lighting. Ru spend the majority of his time in his Laboratory or his Forge, both of which were illuminated with fires, and, of course, this must be shown in his Temple.

    The technology of the underground people hadn¡¯t progressed as far as LEDs, which were more energy-efficient compared to fluorescent lights, but it was in development. Actually, LED lights had already been invented, but they wouldn¡¯t be in circulation for many years. Generally speaking, the problem of the Free Union was the economy. The corrupted power structure¡­ Let us discuss this some other day.

    The walls of the huge cylinder in the center of the spiral were covered with almost identical masks with various expressions. These masks were meant to depict the great souls of previous generations. The masks had slits for eyes; the lighting of the staircase was positioned behind them. Some of the slits flickered with various shades of red. Some were dark. Probably their lights were dead, with no one caring to replace them. The masks were behind a layer of glass; a dirty thief might decide to take one as a memento.

    The stairs were intended for two people to walk side by side, so the two childhood friends had to occasionally stop to let some people through. Richer floors had escalators instead.

    After arriving in the underground cave, they passed through another registration, and then separated, Max going to the library, and Karl to the prayer-room.

    ________________

    Now, let us glance through the stone walls of the center of the stairway. They are thick enough to provide good sound isolation, but they lack an integrated heating system. It is cold. There is a narrow room near the top, close to the Temple¡¯s entrance, with someone inside.

    The room is calm but somehow ominous. Is there something wrong with the ventilation? The woman shifts in brief discomfort, and her slender silhouette slightly moves, casting her face into the wobbling light. She is dressed in neat and simple attire. The most notable part of her is her dark armband, which is covered with red and black eyes of different shapes and sizes. This is a part of standard Temple attire, meant to show that God is always watching his children. Her mouth has a barely perceivable cruel twist to it. She is young, not much older than twenty four or twenty five. Her armband places her in the upper half of the Temple priests.

    The woman is waiting for someone, lost in her thoughts. It must have been the recent composition that had fascinated her. A creation of one of the new talented employees. How did it go? ¡®I walk the earth and see the sky¡­¡¯ The was something about it which touched her to the soul.

    Perhaps the employee would have a future in the military. He certainly had the correct disposition. Maybe she should include his works in her readings to the public, if she¡¯s allowed to, of course. She takes a deep, satisfied breath, feeling the air. She liked preaching.

    The smell of the room was peaceful, aromatic even, with many flickering oil lamps creating a soft reddish glow that leaked out through the cracks on the walls, giving the masks on the other side their characteristic eye-features. It was as silent as a graveyard. Really, what was causing the unsettling feeling that made her palms tremble? The woman inhaled again. Was there a slight scent of metal in the air?

    Her eyes strayed to a small painting standing on the desk she was leaning against. Paintings were something she saw only in places like this. She reached for it, her hands hidden behind standard-issue black gloves. It was a simple motif of a man and a woman kissing with the setting sun behind them. The sun was yellow. The yellow was mixed with oranges, and the sky was pink. Fascinating.

    As she stood there, two men came in. Both of them were of similar height and of a similar build, with warm brown eyes and armbands similar to hers, with a few minor differences, one was the boss, the other the sidekick. The boss was old but the sidekick was still young: his eyes were blazing and his movements were filled with energy. The sidekick stopped near the entrance.

    The older man, the one in charge, came up to one of the armchairs and sat down, beckoning the pair. The woman and the younger man came closer to him and stood across from him, their bearing relaxed and natural. The superior opened up the suitcase he carried, sat it on his lap, and took out a file, handing out copies of it.

    The corners of his mouth went up, flooding his face with genial warmth.¡®My dearest brother and sister, congratulations on your promotion! Your files speak very highly of you. So I would like to see how you reason, you may consider this a sort of test, if you¡¯d like. An old man¡¯s little joyous pastime. Now, read the file and tell me what you think.¡¯ They accepted the documents eagerly.

    The old man carefully observed the facial expressions of the pair. Watching emotions flicker on people¡¯s faces and identifying them was one of his favorite activities. He got the opportunity to do that often, given the nature of his occupation.

    The female¡¯s face was attentive and calm, how boring. She was completely engrossed in the reading of the file, her eyes concentrated and analytical.

    The male¡¯s expression pleased him more than the female one. His warm eyes had tightened and his face was flooded with anger and disgust. Ah, the interesting emotions that the grandfather got to witness! We can only envy him.

    A few minutes passed. Both of them finished reading. The young man spoke up first.

    ¡®This Moritz¡­ To write about Leader Ved like that,having such a good education¡­This individual has been trying to subvert our state.How dare he! The rotten bastard! His damned hands would serve better in a penal colony. Put him there for a year or two!¡¯

    Ah, this youngster was full of energy. The grandfather smiled fondly.

    The boy, agitated from his tirade,finally regained some of his rationality.

    ¡®But no, that¡¯s a bit too harsh, maybe just warn him for now?We must also put his education to use, for example by forcing him to transcribe a few holy texts into Zarul, or putting him in the research department. Perhaps he will understand Ru better then.¡¯

    ¡®Mari, and you?¡¯ The old man¡¯s eyes turned to her. Her calm and concentrated posture shifted, the change almost imperceptible.

    ¡®It¡¯s obvious. I¡¯m not sure why Johann is so irrational. Isn¡¯t our goal to control the population? Take him away, make him publicly apo-logize and force him to write a few works praising our glorious leader. Then work him to death in the mines. At least then he will contribute to society.¡¯ Her mouth twisted slightly, giving her face a cruel light. ¡®But isn¡¯t this just standard procedure?¡¯

    The old man smiled kindly. His eyes had become slightly cold, though. ¡®Yes. Thank you, dearest. Now return to your duties, Mari, Johann. It was interesting hearing your opinions. Don¡¯t worry, Johann, we will deal with Mr. Moritz in a humane way. Oh, and also, please call my secretary for me on the way back.¡¯

    Mari was proud of her performance. Soon she might be sitting on that armchair. She suddenly wished for it fervently. To be a vital influence on many people¡¯s lives¡­ She took in a long breath of air to calm her giddiness.

    But where was the metallic smell coming from? It made her recall her childhood days. She frowned at the disgusting thought, looking down. Ah. There were a few small bloodstains on the carpet. Fascinating.

    She made her way to the prayer-room, where she was supposed to read out passages from the Jrulan and other works, carefully observing the people¡¯s reactions to them.

    After they had left, the old man reached for his suitcase again and took out a pipe, lighting it with a click. The worn suitcase had many files. He glanced towards the desk absentmindedly. It was now occupied.

    ¡®Secretary, put off Mari Ziegler from the promotion list¡¯ He puffed out a ring of smoke. ¡®We don¡¯t need too many intelligent people in our ranks.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, and clean those bloodstains, they¡¯re irritating me.¡¯

    The old man let out another puff of smoke and started carefully paging through the files in his suitcase. His gentle expression had turned cold and calculating; his eyes were now filled with malicious cunning.

 Chapter 9.

    The dark eyes were looking at the vapor coming from the cup. The white smoke-like substance slowly curled in the chilly air, and contrasted beautifully with the layer of pitch-black, almost static holy mist going up to the desk. The head was resting on the arm; there was a general sense of drowsiness in the air, and, as the tea evaporated, the eyes slowly closed, their tired owner closer and closer to sleep. The calm gaze, half hidden, occasionally wandered to the closed book lying close to the steaming cup, but it lacked real interest in what it strayed over. The book was beautiful, with an extremely detailed eye drawn on either side on the cover, half-closed, like the two eyes that observed it, showing that it belonged to the Temple. It was difficult to ascribe a concrete emotion to the single eye. Was it joy? Or maybe hatred? The eyes alone give little information as to what a person is feeling at the moment. It may have been the illustrator¡¯s goal, to represent the entire spectrum of human emotion.

    Tomorrow was Thursday¡­ Max shook himself awake, and his eyes dilated in fear. Thursday! He had Chemistry tomorrow!

    Three physics assignments...Working, struggling, what was the purpose of it all? He could just lead a normal life, like all the people he saw on the streets. Maybe he should just become a simple engineer, like his grandfather¡­

    Would they even accept him into the engineering department? His knowledge was more competitive-physics oriented...Karl, who was supposed to be a mathematician, knew much more than him about tinkering with things. No, they probably wouldn¡¯t.

    Friendships¡­ What was the use of them when most of his friends didn¡¯t let him copy off their homework? Would everyone forget him in university? His father often reminded him of the fact that childhood friendships drifted apart and disappeared, so it must be what would happen. It was best to work hard now and make friends later, he was told.

    The adrenaline from the thoughts about his deadlines filled him with energy. He roughly sat up and reached for the book with a jerky motion, opening it somewhere in the center. Before getting to Chemistry, he needed to memorize some verses and their spelling. His father would be angry at him otherwise.

    Jrulan was the characteristic literary language of the Free Union, managed almost completely by the Church, sharing its name with the main religious text of Ru. Its script, the Quf script, was based on logograms mixed with hieroglyphs, each filled with ancient meanings, and optimized for geometric precision. The history of its evolution, closely linked to the history of the Free Union, is worthy of a small note, which we will presently give.

    Let us firstrecall that a sizable part of the ancient practitioners of Ru were miners and blacksmiths, as during those difficult times of persecution by the Light fanaticsHis image was partially related to the forge. After fleeing underground, the synergy between these two professions and the total freedom from restrictions, along with the need to somehow produce food underground led to massive technological innovation. Astheir numbers grew, the people chose a monarch and created a social structure around him based on the level of contribution to society.

    By then, Ru had morphed into a god of innovation and progress, and his forge with its ever-burning fires had become a symbol of his inventions.Now, having good education put a person closer to the divine. If a person got high marks on a certain set of the exams, which required around fifteen years of constant studying, he could theoretically become a high-ranking advisor.

    The nobility, naturally wanting to restrict others from taking their positions, made the exams more and more difficult.

    Due to these factors, the written language was completely different from the spoken one, with the most elite noble families even speaking this different language, called Jrulan. This Jrulan language was much less prone to change and was probably the closest to what was used aboveground.If you wanted to learn how to write, you would first need to learn Jrulan. Of course, there were many modifications of Jrulan used for transcription purposes, but they were unknown to the general public.

    This curious structure of society stably held the literacy rates of the population around 6%. After the Revolution which toppled the monarchy and created the Free Union, they decided to completely restructure the written language, making it purely phonetic. And so, Zarul was created, basing itself loosely on Jrulan.

    After a few hundred years, Jrulan was now being used purely for religious texts and for very official documents, and was now mostly learned by people who considered themselves ¡®cultured¡¯, if there can even be such a moniker in the Free Union¡¯s society. They called themselves ¡®devotees¡¯, as they were usually wildly obsessed with the idea of serving Ru.

    Even though Max¡¯s father was an atheist, he was extremely devout, it was impossible to be in his profession otherwise, so he had pushed his son into learning the language from his early years.

    The tea had almost cooled by now, the white vapor was now gone; the world around the boy was dominated by a sea of darkness. The Temple library was slowly filling up, with previously praying people coming to find chairs to rest on. Max didn¡¯t notice, he was currently trying to whisper the seventh paragraph of the thirty second chapter with perfect pronunciation, in an effort to memorize it. He was rocking slightly on the spot, and his leg was twitching, an effect of his extreme concentration.

    ¡®Young man, may I sit here?¡¯ a warm voice quietly sounded above him.

    Max jerked up, surprised, and his eyes met with another pair, different from the ones on the book¡¯s cover. These kind eyes were wrinkled around the edges, and glowed with an inner light, with a hint of steeliness. Max absentmindedly held eye contact, still partially immersed in the abstract world built on strange symbols.

    ¡®...He was calm, despite the injustice being done upon him, and this pleased God. The world quieted down, but he became agitated. The attack had ended, his mind started to spoil, and he began protesting instead of enduring, thinking instead of praying, dishonoring instead of believing. ¡­ From this we conclude, the priest and craftsman must master and control the ceaseless and careless motion of the mind to enter a state of ¡®being careless¡¯ and become untouchable by the putrid temptations of the Light one. They must lead their minds to the vision of God<sup>1</sup>¡¯.

    Oh. He was staring now. The ambiance was very tense, he realized. He quickly withdrew his eyes.

    ¡®Yes, of course, sit down, sir¡¯ Max moved his textbooks slightly to the left, and the middle-aged man sat across from him. Max peered at him, curious at the distraction from his studying. The man¡¯s posture was dignified, and he was dressed in light, pure colors, his dark hair in contrast long and messy. The man took out some sort of thick book, and quickly became immersed in it, the cover indicating that it had something to do with collections of laws. Near the man was a large stack of paper¡­ was that a set of tests? It seemed that this man was a teacher. Not a law teacher, though, the formulas he had glimpsed on the stack of papers were familiar... Max remembered his deadline for tomorrow, and was momentarily pushed from his thoughtful mood. Shaking himself slightly, he returned another portion of the text he was supposed to memorize.

    ¡®The mind is the master of the flesh. Therefore, the flesh has the position of a servant. His mind had become darkened and polluted as a protest towards the natural order imposed by God. Therefore, his flesh was serving a corrupted mind, and must be cleansed.<sup>1</sup>¡¯

    He still couldn¡¯t resist his curiosity, there was something magnetic in the presence across from him, perhaps it was the suppressed movements, which contrasted with lightness and cheeriness of the face and the clothes. Max turned his head so that line of his eyes was perpendicular to the surface of the plane that was the table so that he could watch the man more stealthily. He rested his ear on the nook of his elbow. The only thing he could now see from his new position were the man¡¯s hands, the rest of the body hidden behind the book of law. The fingers were long and deft, well manicured, and there was a beautiful glass ring on his index finger, which glittered slightly and bent the weak light, interfering with the dark holy smoke. The fingers sometimes moved to flip a page, and as they did this, the boy¡¯s eyes would focus on the hypnotic, repeating motion. He was slowly being put to sleep again.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    After some time, Max remembered about his upcoming test and homework submission, looked at his own hand, his tired eyes focusing on his own fingers, reached it out to pick up his pen, and started scribbling the reaction rules that he could remember. Not many. Enough of Jrulan for today. He took out his Chemistry textbook, and began reading it earnestly. ¡®Reactions of ionic exchange are possible and proceed to completion if and only if precipitate appears, a gas bubbles out, or a low-dissociating substance is produced (water)¡­ The theoretical reaction yield is the maximum amount of product that can be made as a result of a chemical reaction¡­ Physical chemistry¡­ ¡¯ Max became immersed in the abstract reality of laws and logic, again.

    ¡®Are you interested in Chemistry, young man?¡¯ a voice pleasantly tinted with a slight Underlands accent sounded above him. It was the teacher, his face was inviting. ¡®Would you like me to explain something to you?¡¯

    ¡®N-no¡¯, he was uncomfortable with social interactions with adults. ¡®I¡¯m reading this for class, we have a test tomorrow...¡¯

    The man¡¯s face glowed with fondness. ¡®Well ¨C he pronounced the e slightly differently than Max was used to -- I work in the Chemistry field, and teach a bit, so I would be glad to explain anything. I like clearing up the fog in people¡¯s minds. I hope you¡¯re enjoying that thick book of yours.¡¯, at this, he smiled a bit. ¡®Boys your age should be running out in the streets and spending their energy, not stressing over deadlines. Tell me if you have any questions.¡¯ His eyes twinkled and radiated warmth.

    Max smiled. ¡®Thank you¡¯. This man was pretty strange, but he liked him.

    The table quieted down, but the pleasant feeling that had enveloped Max from the short interaction stayed with him in for a long while. The image of his strict and unforgiving Chemistry teacher at school, which usually hovered above him as he worked on the despised subject, was weakened by the presence across from him. It was interesting, the thought that there were adequate people in Chemistry never crossed him. The only chemists he had seen were severe and demanding, forcing people to recall rules verbatim, without explaining anything or giving any logic apart from simple stories; they kicked people out of classrooms for falling asleep, they yelled and angered easily. For him, the entire subject was closely linked to the image of a stagnant underground pool of muddy water. Flies were the names of chemical compounds, reactions the mosquitoes, wading through was close to impossible, he only slowly sunk as his feet sagged deeper and deeper into the heavy sludge. This kind teacher was somewhat like the sun in this case.

    He wondered ¨C were positive associations and general appreciation of a subject linked? If, for example, his now deceased mother had introduced him to Jrulan as a child and linked it to positive emotions, would he be more like his father? What he read was logically complete and beautifully linked together, but sometimes he didn¡¯t really believe it. He had never had a divine revelation... He felt a certain imbalance in his way of thought, he should remedy it as soon as possible.

    The minutes dribbled slowly, and time stretched out. Now, the tea had stopped cooling, it¡¯s temperature steady, colder than room temperature by few degrees; evaporation¡­ How much colder was the water in the cup? How humid was the air? Was there a current in the room, inducing quicker evaporation? No current. Did any chemical reactions take place in the tea? Obviously they did, but what were these reactions? Organic Chemistry¡­ They had had it a year ago, but he had already forgotten everything. What was the tea¡¯s acidity, anyways? Not seven, definitely. The taste was bitter, so it must be less. Pomegranate juice was an indicator of acidity, he remembered, not like he had ever even tried it. Fruit was a rare treat, almost never grown in the Solariums. Vitamin tablets were a fundamental part of the national cuisine.

    Max immersed the tip of his silvery pen in the cup and moved it a bit. Turbulence, water friction, Reynold¡¯s number, Archimedean force, a completely different section of physics. Hydrodynamics was also somewhat related to air dynamics, a popular field of research. Why did Sovok even need aviation? They only flew in underground caverns. The tea was overbrewed, too dark, enough to keep him alert. He took the cup and drank, shuddering at the bitterness. Why did tea get more bitter with time?

    His thinking was strange, physics and chemistry were clearly being mixed up in his mind, he should look around, maybe¡­ A distraction¡­ His eyes lifted. The library was again close to empty. The service must have started, the crowd probably left to listen in. How long had it been? There was no clock to keep track of time. The lights near the entrance were off¡­ The librarian¡¯s large walled table stood in this darkness, her lazy, fat face with the small spectacles illuminated by a desk lamp, the holy smoke draining the light around her. The sections of the library that had no people in it were also submerged in darkness.

    The desk-phone rang, and the librarian picked up. Max calmly observed the movements of her lips as they spoke. After some time, she stood up and straightened her Temple armband, looking in his direction. What was wrong? Did he break some rule?

    The librarian briskly approached the table. Her amorphous form shook slightly and her yellowish dress brushed the air. ¡°Are you Teacher Moritz?¡± The chemist nodded. ¡°You are required outside. Follow me. Do not take anything with you, it will be quick, I suppose.¡± The man pulled on a strand of his long hair in slight nervousness and fixed his light-colored clothing, and fiddled with the beautiful ring on his index finger. The ring slightly bent the weak light around it, casting a rainbow reflection on the table. ¡°What is the problem, I dare ask? Have I broken some sort of rule?¡± He glanced at the book on Laws that he had been reading all this time.

    ¡°I do not know, I was told to bring you outside. And be discrete about it.¡± She glanced at Max. ¡°Student, are you related to this man?¡± ¡°I am not, Ma¡¯am¡±

    Max looked into the man¡¯s calm eyes. ¡°I see by your face that you have some questions about Chemistry. I will be back soon and answer them¡± The boy felt slightly warm at the care this man showed him, a stranger.

    The pair walked outside, the librarian soon returned to her place. Minutes passed, but the chemist was nowhere. Max finished the last of his tea. He was curious, where was the teacher?

    He stood from his seat, and stretched, a few bones popped. He walked through the door. There was a hallway cutting through central room of the temple and continuing up to the prayer-room, a few doors on both sides of it, for storage, probably. He knew that under the floor he was on, priests and trainees lived and worked, but those places were restricted.

    The hallway was empty, with no one in sight. Some echoing voices in the distance carried fragments of conversation to his current location, but he only heard select words; the dark temple mist seemed to absorb a big portion of the sounds.

    He walked towards the central room of the temple, here there were more people. He walked back to the library. Were there any open doors he had missed? No, everything was closed. He walked back in forth through the corridor a couple of times, desperately . On the third time, he suddenly stumbled, and his gaze dropped down. The carpet was filled with black smoke, but something glittered through it. He crouched down¡­ Glass shards... It was the chemist¡¯s beautiful ring, now broken.

    Max crouched down, and looked down on the ring. His hands were shaking and his face was pale.

    ¡®Young man, what are you doing there? You¡¯ll get cut, walk away.¡¯ A cleaning lady approached him and looked angrily. ¡®Go, go. Why are you shaking? Cut it out, didn¡¯t your mother teach you to comport yourself better in pubic?¡¯

    Max almost drunkenly walked away, back to the library, gathered his things, and, in a daze, stumbling, went to find Karl.

    The prayer room was circular in shape, its walls were decorated with perpetually spinning and interacting machinery serving no purpose. The ceiling was a mosaic made to echo the sun-like mosaic above the Temple, but this time they had decided to make the sun black. The thick smoke reached up to a person¡¯s hips, so when people stood on their knees, only their heads was visible. The air was musty and stale, but there was a calm aroma to it. The room was full of floating heads.

    Karl was one of these people, he was standing on his knees, and dutifully listening to the sermon. When praying, his naturally rule-breaking and mischievous nature became serious and reserved. It is interesting to note how people can have very different characters depending on the task they are completing. What is personality, anyways? Personality is a person¡¯s specific reactions to external stimuli, some say. When you react to something in a setting where a certain behavior is expected from you, is that part of your personality, or is your real personality somehow temporarily masked? It is useless to delve too deep into such thoughts, so let us get back to reality.

    The woman conducting the sermon was a familiar face, her slender silhouette dressed in neat and simple attire, her armband showing her recent promotion. Mari was a fervent preacher, every word of hers produced a visible effect on the crowd.

    ¡®The believer who turns his back to alertness and to nepsis, delivering himself to sleep, is

    dead. He, of course, is ¡®resting¡¯; but the time of his life is running away. Instead of sleep, the true citizen must devout himself to prayer...<sup>1</sup>¡¯

    Max, his eyes closed and his head slightly bowed, listened to every word very carefully, but he was too tired, and his mind was slowly entering a mediative state, despite what he was being told. Some of the light from the altar shone through his eyelids, and there were strange patterns forming and unforming that he observed with great interest. His eyes slowly rolled up, relaxing, and then, suddenly, something forced his eyelids open. Cold air hit his sclera, but his pupils were still rolled up. His eyes were white.

    A voice whispered something unintelligible in his right ear, and he saw a vivid, bright image, first of a relaxed hand, its fingers long and deft, carefully manicured, a dead body, then a bottle with dripping blood. The vision ended. Had that been a Divine Inspiration? He paled and started shaking. He gathered his bag and ran out.

    ¡®The mind is the servant of the Temple. Therefore, the Temple is its master.¡¯ Her whisper was loud and was echoing in the room, following him, and for some reason embedding itself in his mind.