In the evening, after returning from work, Garlos decided to go to bed as quickly as possible. However, before doing so, he decided to eat something. He prepared a sandwich with strange-looking ham and a piece of cheese. Although he wasn't fond of dairy, it was the only product he had managed to get from the store, which had been unusually empty that morning. Normally, supplies were delivered on time.
He sat on an old mattress, from which some large springs were still sticking out, and began eating in silence. He chewed each bite as if it were his last.
The living room, where he sat, wasn't particularly well-kept. Still, it was the place where the most important everyday items were found. Apart from the mattress, there was a small lamp providing the only light in the apartment, and a wooden table with three chairs. The walls were painted blue, and the floor had warped panels. There were no windows, nor a radio – Garlos wasn't interested in the news. He focused only on the basic aspects of life: work and rest. The kitchen was right next door, in the adjacent room. Inside, there was a gray refrigerator, a broken microwave, and a simple countertop where food could be prepared.
He also had a bathroom, which was almost empty: apart from a toilet and a sink, there was nothing that could make daily hygiene more enjoyable. Garlos usually tried to bathe there, though his way of washing himself in the sink looked comical, he wasn't a slob, so he couldn't afford to skip even a single day of washing.
On the hallway, next to the doors leading to the living room, bathroom, and kitchen, there were still other doors. They were white and nailed shut, suggesting that they led to some unused room. Garlos knew that behind them was an empty room full of moisture and mold. It was originally meant to be a bedroom, but those plans fell apart due to financial problems. Since five years ago, when he locked the door to that room, he had never opened it. He preferred not to risk spreading the mold to the rest of the apartment, so he barricaded the doors to prevent the moisture from spreading to the corridor.
Although the apartment was not beautiful, it had something that made him feel at least a little comfortable in it. Though simple, it was his sanctuary, a place where he could feel a bit safe. In this harsh, small world, this place gave him a sense of belonging. It was his own piece of space where he could rest from the external chaos, even if it was far from ideal.
Lost in thought about what he would do the next day, he suddenly heard a knock on the door. He hadn't expected this at all. He didn't know what time it was because he didn't have a radio to tell him the time, but he thought it was probably after 8:00 PM. He chewed the last bite of the sandwich, straightened up, feeling a sharp pain in his back, and walked towards the door, wondering who might have come to visit. Walking down the hallway, he suddenly stopped. What if it was the police? Had they discovered his plan? No, that was impossible, he thought. He approached the slightly worn door and, with greater resistance, reached for the handle. Slowly, he unlocked the door and, glancing through the crack, saw a familiar face. He fully opened the door and saw Ferrick. He was badly beaten, and his clothes were covered with large bloodstains.
- Donald? - he asked in horror. - Friend, what happened?
- Do you have a moment? I came to visit. Just to chat - Ferrick replied with an almost empty expression.
- Yes, yes, of course. Come in.
The host let his friend in, and together they walked down the hallway, making sure the door was securely closed behind them. They went to the living room, where Garlos handed Ferrick some clothes that seemed clean but were actually covered with a light layer of dust. It was the only spare set he had, besides the ones he was wearing. He quickly headed to the bathroom, where he kept a first aid kit under the sink. Using it, he removed shards of glass from Ferrick's wounds and carefully disinfected the injuries. When he finished providing aid, the two men sat at the table, silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Ferrick sat motionless, completely absent, as if his thoughts were far away, in some other place beyond Garlos reach. There was emptiness in his eyes.
- What happened? - Garlos asked again.
- I was attacked. Nothing special. I could have been more careful - Ferrick answered, dismissing the matter as if it were a daily occurrence.
- More careful? This place is going downhill. You can't even feel safe here anymore. Do you want something to drink? I have three bottles of vodka in the fridge.
- Sure - Ferrick replied, then closed his eyes as if trying to disconnect from everything happening around him.
Garlos headed to the kitchen and, after a moment, brought back two glasses and a bottle of cold vodka. This whole situation wasn't extraordinary in Lower Level, where the inhabitants drank it compulsively, even though it wasn't the best quality. They didn't buy it for the taste, but for the relief. It was the only thing that allowed them to forget, even for a moment, the constant stress, uncertainty, and pain. Vodka had become something like a survival tool, a means of numbing all their problems, even if just for a little while.
He poured vodka into the glasses for both of them, and they immediately drank it down. The sip shook the two men, but they at least felt a momentary relief, as if the alcohol dissolved some of the tension in their bodies.
- Today, Johan Zeilendorf was in our lightbulb factory - Ferrick said after a short silence.
- Who? - Garlos asked, not knowing who it was.
- The governor of the Lower Level. The one who's in charge here. Doesn't that ring a bell?
- Believe me, I'm not interested. As you noticed, I don't have a radio. I live in ignorance of what surrounds me, and I'm proud of it. Politics and war aren't my thing.
Garlos grabbed the bottle and poured more vodka into the glasses. Both men drank it down without a second thought.
- Alright, but what does that have to do with anything? Why did he come to see you? - Garlos asked, now curious.
- He wanted to personally inform us that the government will cut our pay due to the state of the Last War.
- Those bastards! - Garlos shouted.
- I think so too - Ferrick sighed. - When he said that, something inside me snapped. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I started accusing him of our problems. In front of everyone. Can you believe it? What got into me?
- You did the right thing. Someone had to say it out loud.
- You don't understand. I came off like a total selfish bastard. I wasn't thinking about anyone else, just myself. Because of me, everyone in the factory could suffer. And besides, that conversation didn't matter. I didn't achieve anything.
Ferrick stood up, took the bottle, and poured more vodka for both of them. They immediately drank it, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread through their bodies. The heavy atmosphere that had hung in the air slowly began to dissipate. For a moment, it seemed like they had forgotten about everything troubling them, as if time had stopped for just an instant, giving them a moment of relief. Garlos started to laugh softly under his breath.
- Does that amuse you? - Ferrick asked, clearly a bit tipsy.
- Friend, you really gave them a hard time, that stupid government. You know, maybe you didn't change anything, but at least you got those emotions out of your system. You said what you really thought, and look – you're still here. I know many people who were in the same situation, said too much, and ended up in the Disposable Level. But you're one of the few who spoke the truth and made it out alive. And with a TDP member, no less! - he laughed louder. - You're a real chosen one.
- You think so?
- Of course! You're special. Thanks to people like you, this level will regain its glory.
Ferrick smiled widely. For the first time in a long time. Finally, he could talk to someone who thought like he did. Back when they worked together, their relationship hadn't been like this. They were younger, full of hope, and dazzled by the possibilities the world had to offer them. Now, after years of disappointments, they saw everything from a different perspective. They no longer had any illusions, but at least now they could share a drink and laugh together at the absurdity that surrounded them. From this dull, gray level, where no one wanted to change anything, and everything seemed pointless.
The protagonist felt the weight of the day slowly lifting off his shoulders, and the conversation with Garlos, though bitter, gave him a sense that he wasn't alone in all of this. Maybe he hadn't changed the world for the better, but at least for a moment, he had found peace.
After several more hours of endless stories, loud laughter, and memories from the past, Ferrick finally felt the alcohol warming him from the inside, but at the same time tightening a noose around his throat. The vodka bottle, almost empty, stood on the table as a silent witness to their conversation. Suddenly, his vision blurred, and the smile disappeared from his face.
He could no longer keep this inside. He had had enough of this lonely fight, the burden that had been crushing his chest for years like an iron band. He knew that if he didn't speak now, if he swallowed that pain again, he would finally break inside.
- I miss Elena - he mumbled under his breath.
Garlos grew sad and looked at Ferrick with concern.
- I'm sorry. I know it must be hard for you, but you couldn't have done anything about it - he said softly.
- I'm a selfish monster without feelings. I don't deserve happiness.
- Don't say that. You're blaming yourself too much. You didn't...
- You don't understand! - Ferrick interrupted and slammed his fists on the table.
He suddenly began coughing, as if something were crushing his lungs from the inside. Maybe, however, the true source of his suffering wasn't the illness, but the tearing sorrow. He swallowed and looked at Garlos with sadness.
- I didn't love her - he said with difficulty.
Garlos didn't know what to say. He sat in silence, stunned, as if he couldn't process what Ferrick had just admitted. The air seemed heavy.
- I married her only for the money. You know she was a doctor? She made a lot of money... – he swallowed again, as if he couldn't stand himself. – The truth is... – his eyes became glassy with tears. – I never felt anything for her. She loved me, but I didn't love her. For all these years, I lied to her, right up until the day she died.
Ferrick began to sob uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his face, and his breath became increasingly erratic. He didn't know what else to say, but after a moment, struggling to catch his breath, he started speaking again.
- When she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Elena was devastated. And I was the opposite. I was relieved. I knew that once she died, her wealth would pass to me. I thought that finally, I'd escape the poverty I inherited from my parents.
He stared intensely at Garlos, as if waiting for some reaction. But Garlos sat there in silence, his face revealing everything. He looked as though he was deeply shaken by what he had just heard.
- Seven years ago, when I knew she was dying, I held her in my arms, and finally, I decided to tell her the whole truth. I told her I hated her, that I despised her, and that I had been with her just for the money – he looked at his hands and then turned his gaze back to Garlos. – Do you know what she said to me? Nothing. She lay there in my arms, looked me in the eyes, and then just died. And after everything... I didn't even get her estate. It was taken by the government.
He fell silent for a moment. The silence filled the room, broken only by the hum of the fridge.
- Over the years, I've realized that I did love her, just didn't know how to appreciate it. But now it's too late. She's gone. I'm left alone.
That was the climax. Ferrick broke down crying, not knowing what to do with himself. He didn't feel any better after speaking out. On the contrary, he felt even more depressed. The whole conversation didn't bring relief but only amplified the sadness that weighed on him. He felt empty, as if nothing mattered anymore. That's why he was afraid to speak his mind. He was afraid that he would hurt someone again, just like he hurt Elena.
Garlos finally stood up, walked over to Ferrick, and hugged him. He held him in his arms for a long moment, as if trying to give him even a bit of understanding. After a while, he let go and sat down on his old mattress. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
- Do you want to smoke? – he asked quietly.
- Yes – Ferrick replied.
Both men sat in silence, surrounded by smoke, contemplating their existence. What was the point? Why all of this? The constant pain, despair, and emptiness in their hearts... Everything seemed pointless, as if it didn't matter at all.
- In eight days, I plan to escape to the Upper Level – Garlos said.
Ferrick looked at him in shock. He couldn't believe what he had just heard.
- I have a friend who has been planning this for a while. He knows a place where there's an elevator to the Upper Level. It's used by government officials and members of the TDP. Once a year, on a national holiday, it's not guarded by the military at all. We're planning to sneak in and take it to the Upper Level. We'll start a new life. A better life.
Garlos paused for a moment, as if weighing his words, trying to find the right way to explain what he meant.
- I wasn't planning on telling you this, but I have a feeling you need it too – he added, looking at Ferrick with determination.
The thick smoke from the cigarettes still hung in the air, making everything around them seem a little more blurred. The two friends sat there, feeling as though they were stuck at a standstill, in a place between life and death.
- So, what do you think about that? – Garlos asked.