Darkness enveloped everything, even though it was still early morning. The Lower and Disposable Levels, neglected and forgotten places, had no access to sunlight. The only source of light was old, rusted metal lamps that protruded from higher levels. Only thanks to them could the streets be dimly illuminated. The light they emitted was strong enough, but not sufficient to see everything around.
Walking along the gray housing blocks, Ferrick heard a voice coming from one of the loudspeakers. Every district had to have at least one so the residents could stay up to date with information. Similar devices were also installed in trams.
- The time is now 11:00 AM. Today is Monday, April 21st, 2098. The air pollution level is moderate. The latest update confirms that the Zalvistan forces are planning an attack on the northwestern parts of Africa today. In response, PPD has taken action and is sending numerous soldier units to the borders. We will keep you updated on further developments. Glory and honor to Caldoria!
This news did not evoke much fear in Ferrick. Such information was part of daily life. Most likely, the TDP troops would quickly pacify the enemies across the ocean – as always. Caldoria was too powerful of an empire for it to be any other way. The Last War would likely end in its triumph. The only potential threat remained the long-planned Union of the New World – an alliance of the largest hostile powers from Europe, North and South America. However, no concrete information about it had surfaced so far. Ferrick believed it was just a rumor intended to intimidate the countries of Africa, Asia, and Australia. Still, he wanted to believe that it was indeed just that.
The gray, windowless housing blocks stretched on endlessly. Every building looked almost identical, and the only way to distinguish them was by the signs placed above the entrance doors. Each one had a different name – for example, Under the Stars. Ferrick lived in the block called Steady Corner. He did not hide that he had chosen it solely because of the name. It was simple, down-to-earth, and gave a sense of stability. A place he could always return to.
Walking on the damaged sidewalk, Ferrick noticed one of the dark alleys between the gray concrete walls. In the distance stood garbage containers, packed to the brim with waste. Some bags had fallen out onto the street, creating a sloppy mess.
Suddenly, he noticed a musty, particularly unpleasant smell. It was different from what he had encountered before, which immediately caught his attention. Without really knowing why, he approached closer. After a moment's hesitation, he broke down and began rummaging through the pile of trash, trying to find the source of the stench. A swarm of flies hovered in the air – more than Ferrick had ever seen in one place. The stench became more intense until, at one point, Ferrick suddenly froze. A rotten hand was sticking out from the trash. It had no nails, and its skin was grayish-green. The rest of the body was likely deeper in the container. Ferrick stared at the limp hand for a moment, then silently turned around and continued on his way, heading home.
After a long walk, Ferrick finally reached his destination. Before him stretched another indistinguishable gray housing block, devoid of windows. As always, he stopped for a moment to look at the sign reading Steady Corner, then entered.
The reception area didn't look too bad – at least compared to the rest of the building. Although the walls were dirty and covered in mold, there were a few paintings depicting tigers hanging on them. On the floor was a brown rug with a rather interesting checkered pattern. Behind the desk sat a plump woman with red hair and slightly worn glasses perched on her nose. She was slowly sipping something from a black mug. Ferrick knew perfectly well that it was vodka.
- Good morning, Mrs. Puller.
- Good morning. I see you're here earlier today. Just a reminder, I expect the rent payment for the next month next week. This time, I hope to receive it on time, Mr. Ferrick - she replied, looking at him over her glasses.
- Yes, of course - he muttered under his breath, then headed towards the stairs.
He lived on the seventh floor, so before he got there, he had to work up quite a sweat. His physical condition left much to be desired – in fact, it didn't even exist. He had never been interested in exercise. On the Lower Level, there were several gyms, but from what he knew, they weren't particularly popular. During the ongoing war, the residents had more important matters on their minds. Or maybe it was just an excuse? Ferrick wasn't sure himself.
As he reached the fifth floor, his attention was caught by the law officers standing by the door where an elderly man lived. He could often be seen at the reception talking to Mrs. Puller. He always seemed like a kind and polite person.
- Open up! Police! Please open immediately - shouted the policeman, hitting the door with his fist.
- Please leave me alone. It's just an allergy. I swear - the elderly man replied from behind the door.
Ferrick didn't want to get involved, so he quickly moved on, not paying much attention to the situation. He believed that everyone should deal with their own problems without interfering in others' affairs, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for the elderly man. He knew the man suffered from muscle wasting, and his health condition probably required intervention. Ferrick suspected that one of the neighbors had reported him to the authorities, which led to the police visit. He was beginning to worry that if his lung problems worsened, he too would end up in a similar situation, and officers would knock on his door.
Out of breath and with a pounding heart, he reached the seventh floor. He paused for a moment in front of the brown door with the number three, as if looking for some comfort in it. He pulled the rusty, almost black keys from the dirty pocket of his jacket, fighting off a sudden weakness caused by a long, exhausting cough. His hands were sweaty, and his fingers trembled as he tried to insert the key into the lock. With some resistance, as if this daily ritual was becoming more and more difficult for him, he finally managed to open the door.