by Drew Cordell
“Was I not supposed to be able to create more than two subdivisions in my projection?”
“No. And I certainly didn’t think you’d make five plus instantly. I can’t do that and I’ve been training for years. I’d like to take you to talk with someone, Jake. I need to show him the results from your session.”
“Who?”
“One of my colleagues in the organization I’m with. He is an expert on subdividing the mind and mental projections, and he can evaluate exactly what you did.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
“We’ll be going to the Undercity,” Edgar said.
“Your organization is down in the Undercity?” I asked, trying to read his expression.
“Oh yes, it’s much nicer than it is up in the Slums.”
I stared with disbelief.
“Once you’re in the Guild Hall,” he amended. “If you agree, then we will leave now. I’d like to be back by dinner time.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said.
Edgar walked over to his closet and pulled out a black leather jacket. It looked expensive and not the sort of thing that could be purchased from any of the local shops in our district. He crouched down and pulled out a small black briefcase from which he pulled out a holstered handgun. Any sort of weapon more dangerous than a butter knife was illegal to possess. I hadn’t ever seen any type of firearm aside from the rifles the heavy Enforcers carried when diffusing illegal activities. Edgar must have seen the look of shock on my face because he smirked as he secured the weapon to the inside of his jacket and added a couple of strange looking magazines to an inside pocket. After replacing the briefcase, he pulled out two respirator mouthpieces and handed one to me. “Don’t put it on until we’re in the Undercity; it’ll draw too much attention.”
“What about your jacket? It’s leather,” I said.
He smiled and raised his arm. The forearm of the jacket had a built-in screen with several small buttons. He hit a couple of them and the jacket pixelated in a blur of motion in front of me. A second later, it looked as though he were wearing a simple green hoodie.
“Is that … Nexweave?” I asked.
“Yes, and it’s very expensive. Are you ready to go?”
I nodded and pulled the bandana over my face. Edgar hit another button, and a matching face shield materialized on his face.
I couldn’t believe he had a Nexweave jacket. Nanotech-enabled Nexweave clothing was extremely illegal due to the technology itself and the ability to allow its user to impersonate anyone or hide in any situation. The cloth was hyper-magnetic and made of metallic fibers that were sensitive to different voltages. When combined with Nanotech, which consisted of billions of microscopic robots that could alter the cloth or protect the wearer from harm, it was some of the most potent and expensive apparel one could own. Nexweave clothing could stop a knife, bullet, or directed energy blast, and it weighed close to nothing. Most had assumed it only existed in the Upper Level; others, like myself, doubted its existence at all, chalking it up as another rumor.
We moved through the streets at a brisk pace as I followed close behind Edgar. We turned down an empty alleyway, and Edgar knocked on a rusted steel door on the end. A shady looking man in a ragged hoodie opened the door and motioned us inside. The building looked as if it had been abandoned for many years, the air inside was dusty and dry, and random bits of debris littered the grimy floor. Edgar led me to a large steel hatch at the end of the room. “Put on your respirator.”
We put on our respirators, and he lifted the hatch. A blast of yellow steam emerged from the vent as the pressure inside released. A fan above us on the ceiling activated rapidly and expelled the gas into the outside air. I followed Edgar down the steel ladder rungs that protruded from the rough concrete wall of the hole. We reached the bottom, and I found we were in a long concrete passageway with huge metal pipes on either side. Portions of the pipes were spewing hisses of steam, and large turn valves were sticking out every twenty feet or so. I didn’t feel comfortable down here at all. Clouds of discolored steam obscured light and could allow someone to hide alongside the dark walls, unnoticeable until they were just a couple of feet away.
“Don’t touch the pipes. They aren’t insulated and will give you a nasty burn,” Edgar warned.
I could actually breathe with the respirator, which surprised me. I never thought the air down in the Undercity was breathable. The parts of the Undercity we traveled through had many sub-climates which were separated by steel doors and hatches. Some portions were unreasonably hot and humid due to steam leaks in large pipes that were partially corroded. Other lengths were cold and dry, void of the colossal steam pipes.
We continued through the tunnels, taking many turns and going through many steel doors, none of which were locked. Edgar pointed out various hazards as we proceeded: metallic stairs coated in slick oil dripping from an overhead pipe, a puddle of some sort of acid that would eat through the soles of my shoes, and a section of low hanging pipes that weren’t visible when approaching them. I could see how easy it would be to get lost or killed down here.
The lighting in most of the tunnels was poor at best, and it didn’t look like anyone had taken the effort to replace the failed fixtures for a very long time. There were all sorts of bugs crawling along the walls, which Edgar didn’t seem to mind at all, but I gave them wide berth.
We came to a large clearing and saw three men smoking cigarettes, their faces unprotected from the poisonous air. When they saw us, they started approaching in a slow manner, dropping their cigarettes and stamping them out. I could see they were armed now: one held a long knife, and the other two had short lengths of iron pipe, holding them as makeshift bludgeons.
“Look what we’ve got ere’, boys,” the man with the knife said in a thick accent.
I positioned myself behind Edgar for safety. I wouldn’t be much good in a fight with my broken wrist, not that I knew how to fight at all.
“We’ll be passing through here without your hindrance,” Edgar said simply.
The man with the knife laughed. “We shouldn’ hinder their path, boys,” he shouted, and the others joined in laughing.
My heart was beating rapidly now. These were the type of people that should be avoided at all costs, and down here there was barely anywhere to run. If I got separated from Edgar, I knew I’d have a very hard time finding my way out.
The man with the knife brandished the weapon and slashed it with manic motion in the air in front of us before grinning again. “We’ll be takin’ your belongins’ and you can be on your way.”
Edgar hit a button on his wrist, and his light jacket returned to the appearance of the oiled leather one. The men backed up slightly at this.
“Do you think he’s with the Government?” one of the men asked the leader.
“No, it’s jist’ a trick, get em!” the man beckoned. I could see the knife shaking in his hand, unsure if it was from fear or from breathing in too much of the bad air.
One of the men beside the leader lunged out at Edgar with an overhead blow, swinging the thick iron pipe in a wide arc. I was surprised to see Edgar quickly sidestep the swing. After dodging, Edgar lowered his posture and punched the man in the rib cage with incredible force. The man doubled over and fell to the ground while the other man came in swinging his pipe sluggishly. Edgar caught the man’s wrist during the clumsy swing and kicked him in the gut. The man held his ground, but missed another swing and received a well-aimed punch to the nose that sent him sprawling. I heard the distinct sound of bone cracking and saw the man reach up to his face to try to stop the bleeding as he crawled away from Edgar.
Edgar pulled out the handgun with a swift, fluid motion and held it steady on the leader. Surprisingly, the leader’s expression didn’t change.
“I’ll bet on my knife oer’ your cutter torch any day.”
Edgar shifted the gun to the left and pulled the trigger. A great flash of purple light emerged from the barrel, and
I could see a glowing orange crater on the wall where the blast had hit several feet away.
The man with the knife shifted the blade and held it with his palm to show he was backing off. The others followed, and they retreated into one of the tunnels, cursing along the way.
“Sorry about that, Jake. I assure you it’s much nicer once we reach the Guild Hall.”
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” I asked, in awe of his skill.
“My colleagues taught me when I was about your age. The Nanotech helps significantly.” He raised his hand and I could see it was coated in a glove that looked like carbon fiber.
“What kind of gun is that?” I asked.
“Directed energy weapon. HexTox gas.”
“HexTox gas?”
“Hexathoxian gas, HexTox for short. It’s used in reactor cooling to transfer a lot of heat very quickly. It heats and cools at a very fast rate. It’s ideal for short-range weapons and packs quite a punch. Anyway, we’ve got to get moving,” Edgar said as he re-holstered the gun. He hit another button, and his jacket took the appearance of a different leather jacket. It was red and black, and I could see a strange insignia on the shoulder. The Nanotech shifted again, and the jacket bulked up. It now had armored pauldrons and thick pieces of reinforced leather on the front and back. I wanted a jacket like his.
“It’s time you meet my colleagues, Jake,” Edgar said.
10 AS IRON SHARPENS IRON
∆∆∆
We continued through the narrowing tunnels for some time, descending several flights of rusted stairs. It was getting colder and drier as we descended, the tunnels void of pipes. There was no way to tell exactly how expansive the Undercity was, but it wasn't something I wanted to learn by myself.
“Now Jake, when we reach the Guild Hall and I introduce you to my colleague, you will address him as sir, and you will not hold back your vocabulary. Incorrect words up above are correct down here, and they hold particular value amongst us,” Edgar said as we continued forward.
“What do I do if he says something I don’t know the meaning of?”
Edgar took a moment to consider this. “You may ask him what the word means, but do not stop him frequently. Try to infer the meaning, if possible. You won’t be expected to have a refined vocabulary as an outsider of the Guild. Just be respectful and listen to what he has to say to you; you might learn a lot. I’m going to leave you with Master Aarlen while I speak with the others about teaching you and possible recruitment in the future.”
“What if they don’t like me? Will I be free to leave?” I tried to keep the nerves out of my voice. This hardly seemed like something one could walk away from.
“Of course you’ll be free to leave. We aren’t in the business of killing civilians. Don’t worry about that, just try to learn as much as possible from Master Aarlen while you have the opportunity. I expect he will be able to provide you with great guidance.”
“Thanks, Edgar.”
We turned the corner, and Edgar moved in front of me, pulling a small lever on the side of a steel panel in the concrete wall. There was a dull click, and the panel slid back revealing a passageway behind it. When we moved past the doorway, Edgar pulled another lever, and the panel slid back into place, enclosing us in utter darkness.
All of a sudden, a light from Edgar’s jacket illuminated the dark passageway in front of us. We walked farther and approached a small mechanical lift which dropped us down a long distance at a speed that made my stomach drop. At the last possible second, the elevator slowed to a standstill, and we were level with a massive steel blast door covered with mostly faded fallout shelter icons. Two men in the same jacket as Edgar stood guarding either side, short rifles of some sort hanging from slings rested in their hands. We approached, and the doors opened automatically. I was not prepared for what was inside.
My impression from the outside was that the Guild was going to be some rundown emergency shelter from another age. It was anything but that. The first thing I noticed was how huge the complex really was. We were standing at the bottom of a colossal room that was filled with red carpeting instead of laminate tile or steel flooring. Warm amber light bulbs lit several tables off to the left where people sat enjoying a meal with one another. A man moved from behind the bar carrying strange mugs to the patrons. The right side of the complex was devoted to huge, towering bookshelves filled to the brim with books of all colors.
Toward the back of the giant room, lining the building, were several doors that looked to be made of wood. People sat at plenty of tables reading books and working on datapads. There was a second story as well, overlooking the massive main hall with balconies along all the walls. I could see more bookshelves on the second level of the facility and more tables as well. The entire room was impossibly large. I kept looking around, trying to absorb my surroundings and the elegance of this place.
“Follow me. I’ll take you to Master Aarlen,” Edgar said.
I got several curious looks as we walked to the right toward the bookshelves. The people here were many different ages, and some were dressed differently than others, wearing nice dressy clothes instead of the rugged leather jacket Edgar was wearing. The books smelled slightly dusty, but it was a welcome smell, a smell of knowledge. It occurred to me there were probably more books here than I could ever read in my lifetime, thousands and thousands of volumes filled with knowledge. Huge ladders on rolling tracks ascended the bookshelves which looked about twenty feet tall. I struggled to keep my eyes forward and not slow down; I wanted nothing more than to browse the shelves and find something new to read, something new to learn.
We continued to the end of the shelves and approached a wooden door. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen anything made of wood, the rare material made from trees which were extinct in the Slums. What trees had been planted around the districts were run down by cars, hacked down by makeshift axes, and sold during the shortage of wood that started well before I was born. Now wood of any kind was a precious commodity, hence the reason real paper was so expensive.
As we approached, a girl around my age stepped forward from the side. She was wearing the same jacket as Edgar, but had a black headset over her hair. She was slightly shorter than me but looked very athletic—much more so than I was. She moved in front of the door.
“Hi, Edgar. Who is this?”
“Hello, Caeldra. This is Jake. I would like for him to meet Master Aarlen. He might be the next great Unbound.”
“Hmm, doesn’t look like much,” she said in a soft voice as she appraised me with critical ice blue eyes. “Especially with a broken arm. Master Aarlen is eating his lunch, but I will let him know he has a visitor.”
The girl pressed a few buttons on an old looking datapad.
“Thank you. I think you and Jake have a common disdain of Enforcers, Caeldra,” Edgar said with a smirk.
She shifted slightly and I could see a thin scar that ran down the side of her cheek. It wasn’t ugly and was quite faded. She was beautiful with her slicked back blonde hair and light complexion. The scar was the only blemish on an otherwise flawless face.
“I see. Well, Jake, this is a good place to be if you don’t care to live under the rule of the Government or participate in their Absolute Knowledge bullshit.”
I almost winced but caught myself. Speaking badly of the Government got people sent to the Sculptors. Things were different here.
“I’m afraid I must meet with the Council. Caeldra, I will leave Jake in your capable hands while I attend to other matters. I trust you will keep him occupied while you wait for Master Aarlen to finish his lunch,” Edgar said.
“Certainly,” she said with a slight grin.
Edgar walked away and left us alone. I turned to Caeldra and smiled nervously. I had no idea what to say.
“Unbound, huh?”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I confessed.
“That figures. Master Aarlen is the only Unbound in the Champ
ions of Liberty.”
More questions rushed into my head. “That’s the name of your Guild, the Champions of Liberty?”
“Yes, and the Unbound are those with an enhanced ability to layer and create projections of incredible depth and immersion. I suppose you’ve done something to impress Justicar Barton.”
“Justicar?” The word was unknown to me.
Caeldra sighed. “He’s one of the Council members. We’ve adopted the word Justicar, based on the Latin term justiarius or justice in English as a title for the Council members. If you’ve got a Justicar backing you, then you’ve got a good chance of Guild admission.”
Her answer filled me with more questions than answers. I didn’t know what Latin or Justice meant; they were new words to me.
“And Master Aarlen, is he in the Council?”
Thankfully, she remained patient with me. “No, Master Aarlen is responsible for expanding and maintaining our knowledge pool. He is in charge of the library and the electronic knowledge base.”
“The Guild is collecting knowledge like the Government?” I asked, regretting the question the second it slipped out of my mouth.
“You’d best mind your tongue. We collect truth to preserve through the ages, books and tomes of ancient times past, things we can’t afford to lose,” she said, her voice sharp.
“I apologize; I didn’t mean the question the way I’m sure it came across.”
She nodded. “It’s all right. Just don’t say anything like that when you speak with Master Aarlen. He won’t appreciate it or have the patience for such things.”
“I understand. Thank you, Caeldra.”
“You’ve got a whole life to catch up on if you’re admitted to the Guild. I hope you’re ready to work hard. Do you know how to fight?” she asked.
“No, I’ve never learned. I generally just avoid dangerous situations.”
“How’d the Enforcers get you?”
“A thief stole a friend’s belongings and took off. I ran after him and managed to catch him. We caught the attention of Enforcers, and they decided we were both guilty for crimes against the Government. One broken wrist each.”