Souls Below

Chapter One

Five weeks Prior.



A long and high pitch whistle resonated around me, my hands sore from scrapping the calcium build up from inside the pipes dropped to my side. It was lunch time.

I wiggled my way to the next opening, rubber suit squelching along in the residue of water in the pipes. I pulled myself from the metal tube and sat at the edge for a moment, feet dangling. I watched the world below mill about as the workers made their way to the cafeteria, tickets in hand that indicated they had been assigned work that day.

No ticket. No food.

I looked upwards, the roof to the city below littered with a few large glass windows here and there to allow small streams of light to trickle down, just enough to tell whether it was night or day cycle. Steam hissed from my right, the white cloud drifting upwards and I found my mind wandering. What would real clouds look like? Were they fluffier than the white steam? Did they float upwards into the dark nothing that lay beyond when night came?

I guess I would never know. Uppers and Lowers never mingled, we never entered the others city. They stayed up there, living in luxury, while we stayed down here, the poor fighting for survival. I let out a sigh before standing and walking carefully along the pipes to a ladder on a wall that lead to the ground below.

I fished out my ticket from the waterproof bag that was integrated to my suit, making sure it was still there before returning it, my stomach growling with hunger. I pulled the top half of my suit down, the black singlet underneath felt soaked with sweat from the hours of scraping calcium. I quickly walked between the streets of mismatched and hand made houses, head low and footfalls quiet. I didn't want to draw unwanted attention, if the hungry saw I was a worker I could be targeted for my meal ticket.

As I approached the large building I heard shuffling from behind, and quickly glancing over my shoulder I saw a disheveled looking woman following closely. Her eyes were locked onto my hip and tongue licking her cracked lips; she knew I had a ticket, she must have seen me pull it out. How could I have been so careless?

Picking up my pace, I just needed to get inside, the guards stationed outside stopped and checked anyone trying to enter whether they had a workers' meal ticket or not. They wouldn't let the old woman pass, but they also wouldn't help if I was attacked before entering. The guards were those from the Upper half, they controlled the workers' cafeteria and made sure all who entered were allowed.

It was the Uppers way of making sure you had worked hard enough to earn the right to eat. Everyone else had to take the portions that were rationed out on ration day. I heard the woman's shuffle get louder and closer, which caused me to start running. Panic spiked my chest when she gave a cry of alarm, racing after me in an attempt to steal my ticket.

I could see the guards now, checking each person's ticket before entering, one of them looking in my direction when he heard the commotion of the woman following behind me, a disgusting smile spreading over his lips. He was one of those that gained enjoyment out of our suffering.

I felt the woman grab the arm of my suit, jerking me backwards slightly and catching me off guard. I gave a yelp of surprise before I stepped to the side, the old hag falling to the ground with a loud crunch, not expecting that movement. Without waiting to see if she was OK, I sprinted towards the building, only slowing to pull out my Workers meal ticket to show to the guard.

His eyes were hard, a nasty scowl now replaced the smirk that had been on his face a moment before, disappointed he wasn't able to see two Lowers scrambling for a meal ticket. His eyes trailed up and down my body slowly, making me uncomfortable before jerking his head to the side, indicating I could go in.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I walked into the large, very brightly lit, and very clean area, the doors opening with a soft hiss. Dozens of people milled around, many sitting at tables, hunched over their food in a protective way while they shovelled it into their mouths, as if someone was about to walk up and steal it.

Others, however, sat in groups and talked, occasionally laughing as if they hadn't just worked a nine hour shift for one messily half hour of meal time, before another nine hour shift until being able to go home. I stood in line and waited for my food like everyone else, thankful that it was at least enjoyable, almost to the point some considered it Upper food. I scoffed at the idea, more like it was the Uppers scraps. Still, I wasn't about to complain, it was better then some of the rations that were divvied out.

Keep the workers happy to keep them working.

I turned and headed to a table at the back, cautiously stepping around the worker robot collecting any litter dropped by the workers, looking worn out and making little jerking motions as it struggled to complete its programming. I was one of those that sat alone and hunched over my food, not that I thought someone would steal it, just that I preferred to be left alone. Which was why I enjoyed the Job I had, I didn't have to speak to anyone and could work by myself.

Once I had finished I returned to the pipes without interacting with anyone to finish my shift.

~*~

I flung myself onto my small bed, body absolutely exhausted. I had worked eighteen hour shifts, eight days in a row, with one day off tomorrow before doing it all again. I stared at the grey ceiling, the sounds of the city familiar and comforting. It was a never ending noise, a city that never stopped and never slept. If it did, the Uppers would lose many luxuries, power and food, something they would never allow.

I had heard a few years ago there had been a revolt, a rebel group of Lowers believing they weren't being treated well enough. There had been a power struggle, and many Lowers had died once the Uppers sent in their army. We never stood a chance.

And that's where I come in. I had been found wandering the streets, bruised, bleeding and with no memory on who I was, where I was from or how I got here. Jerard, the old man that had found me, thought my house and family had been caught in the crossfire and blasts when the army had invaded, which explained my wounds and missing memory.

But what he couldn't explain was the lack of ID number that every Lower received at birth. Not having an ID number was impossible unless you were an Upper, or hidden at birth, and since there were no search parties sent after the rebels had been eradicated, being hidden at birth sounded more likely.

I sat up and hugged my legs close to my chest, staring out the small window to sea of lights, metal and concrete that was the Lower City. I had tried to find out who my parents were, or what my name was, but ended up almost getting killed or discovered instead, before Jerard implored me to stop. There were many people that would take advantage of my lack of ID and try to sell me to the trade market, where I would end up as someone's slave, or worse.

I heard the heavy boots down the hallway, my bedroom door squeaking open slightly as Jerard peered in, his face surprised I was still awake. After he had convinced me to stop searching for my life before the attack, Jerard gave me a place in his house. He had lost a daughter a few years back to the sickness that had spread through the city, so her room was now mine. I try not to think how weird that was, and focused on the kindness he had shown.

He could have turned me into the authorities, or sold me to the trade market himself. Instead, he took me in and managed to assign a job without needing to supply an ID number. Hence now working in the pipes. I was out of sight all the time, didn't need to talk to anyone on a daily basis and didn't require and ID number to clock in and out like most citizens did.

And the only reason Jerard was able to do this was because he was like a leader figure to the people. Lowers weren't allowed to appoint their own leader, and even though there was a Mayor that oversaw the running of the Lowers, be was paid by the Uppers, given a plush house to live in, an armed escort whenever he left his office or home and the largest of the good food rations.

Which meant he was hated by every Lower here, hence Jerard's hushed position. He had grown up here, struggled to survive like everyone else, and yet helped all those he could, when he could. But when his daughter died he ended up with the nickname Grave digger; if you pissed him off the wrong way, you were digging your own grave.

"Rough day?" his deep voice travelled over to me. I didn't say anything, instead turned my gaze back to the window. He made his way over and sat on the end of my bed "I heard about what happened today at meal time" that didn't surprise me, there wasn't much that Jerard didn't know about, having eyes and ears everywhere allow him to know what was happening. And to keep a close eye on me

"She was just hungry, that's all" I mumbled, placing my chin on my knee. Three year ago I would have given her my ticket, trying to help those that couldn't help themselves. But with my own starvation a very real reality I learnt I couldn't save everyone. The shame left me torn, laying awake at night wondering why I got to live while others died horribly "It's getting worse" I added a little more quietly. Jerard didn't say anything, he knew how bad the Lowers were becoming, with the Uppers restricting more and more food rations each season cycle.

"There's not much we can do pea" I frowned. As powerful as Jerard was, he was still powerless against the Uppers

"We could force them to listen" I felt Jerard tense "If we stopped working they would lose everything. Without us, they have nothing"

"Don't talk like that Mira" his voice was stern but tight "You know what happens to people with that kind of thinking" his wife and disappeared a year after their daughter got sick, when she had started talking about a revolution. She blamed the Uppers for her death. One night, she never came home from her night shift at the medical ward, and there were no traces or clues to follow. Even her ID number had been erased from the system, as if she never existed.

"So we are just suppose to go on like this until we die? Isn't that the same as stopping work? We do nothing, we die. We fight back, we die. Either way we all lose" anger boiled in my chest at the power the Uppers held. It was wrong, especially since their whole survival depended on the amount of work the Lowers did

"You have to pick your battles Mira. Sometimes doing nothing is better than doing something" I scoffed

"That just sounds like someone who is afraid" the air went cold at that comment. I knew Jerard was afraid, he tried not to show it but I had been living with him for almost four years now, I could tell when fear started to set in. There were things he wasn't telling, information he knew but didn't share, and I felt like something big was about to happen.

"Your birthday is in a few weeks, is there anything you would like?" he asked, changing the subject. I didn't know my real birthdate, so Jerard had given me the day he found me. It was more of an anniversary but it was better then nothing. We thought I was around thirteen when he found me, but that was a guess. Who knew how old I really was.

"A memory bank" Jerard sighed heavily

"I haven't stopped looking Mira, so far there are still no missing children even in the Lowers, but since you have no ID code, we wouldn't know even if you were reported missing" I didn't answer. I was so tired. This constant cat and mouse game the Uppers played with the Lowers was exhausting. But what was most tiring was constantly getting my hopes up when something had been found, only to be disappointed again and again

I felt like I was being a brat, not getting the results I wanted and taking it out on Jerard instead, the one person risking everything by sheltering and keeping me safe. I let out a small sigh. I never felt like I fit it, this place was foreign, even if I didn't remember it. As if my body was telling me I didn't belong

"A new crystal?" I asked quietly, turning to look at my caretaker. I saw his eyes light up at that request, knowing it was something he enjoyed just as much as I did. I had an obsession with crystals and stones, especially the ones that glowed. But they were rare, needing to be kept secret; apparently they were worth a lot of money and were the only item you could trade with an Upper

"I can do that" he replied just as quietly. I knew having me here gave him purpose, and even though I didn't replace his lost daughter, he didn't treat me as a replacement either, just simply another child in his family. From the small comments made from a few close friends, he had changed since I came along, no longer trying to get himself killed at every turn by challenging the Uppers constantly.

I saved him as much as he saved me.

I watched as Jerard left the room and closed my door behind him, flopping back onto my back when it was shut. I wanted to change the way things were down here, to give the Lowers a chance at a decent and normal life. Why was it the Uppers decision on how we lived and died? How was it they got to choose what luxuries we could have? I worked hard in order to supply myself with the basics of food and clothing, knowing it would put a tremendous amount of strain on Jerard, especially with keeping my existence a secret.

Even though I didn't feel like I fit in, there was a part of me that felt like I was meant for something greater. Like I was meant to change history or something. Was that normal? Probably not. Was that something I wanted? Not really. Like Jerard said, talking about things like that increased your chances of disappearing.

I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, feeling sleep overwhelm my exhausted body.