The Underclass - Chapter 10
Chapter 10
When Galaxy woke up again, Fula was no longer in the room. Her shoulders bare, she leaned on the edge of the bed and gazed out the window at the tiny square of sky.
She didn't care where Fula had gone. She just spaced out for a bit.
Until she found out exactly where An Hua had gone, she had no fixed destination.
The fluid injected into her body in the underground lab hadn't brought about any changes; it seemed to have simply vanished into her bloodstream, merging with her entirely.
If she were a lawful citizen, she would have marched straight to a hospital for a full-body scan—after all, it was a rare free medical procedure, and she absolutely would have taken advantage of it.
But now she was a fugitive. Thinking about her life, there wasn't much to look forward to anymore. Living or dying didn't seem to matter much either way.
News of An Hua arrived three days later. Lucia Town remained entirely unchanged by the explosion in the snowy mountains—at least, the slums where Galaxy stayed were unchanged.
Every day, she still saw different gambling addicts loitering around the casinos. Business at the tavern was booming; the cheap beer drew countless lower-class citizens trying to find fleeting relief from their failed lives. Every so often, a corpse of someone who voluntarily gave up on life would be discovered on the side of the road.
When she went downstairs, the tavern owner was complaining about something. Drawing closer, she heard the woman griping: "Someone dies at the doorstep every day. How am I supposed to run a business?"
"I heard quite a few important people came to our town lately, all rushing into the snowy mountains. What exactly happened?"
Someone snorted in laughter. "Who cares what happened? Can you meddle in the affairs of important people?"
The entire tavern erupted into laughter, charging the air with a mix of sorrow and joy.
Galaxy once again sat in her corner. She ordered a glass of butterbeer. As the bubbles bubbled up, Fula—whom she hadn't seen for days—sat down across from her and pushed a dossier over.
Galaxy didn't open it immediately. She drained her butterbeer in one gulp, and only then flipped the folder open.
On the very first page was a photo of An Hua stepping out of a vehicle, her familiar face as icy as ever.
"Where is this?" Galaxy asked.
"District C," Fula explained. "Our people spotted her there. Her destination should be the mountainous region at the edge of District C. Beyond that, our people can't get any further. Are you going after her?"
"Of course I am," Galaxy smiled. "Help me restock my ammo."
"Dear Ms. Galaxy," Fula stood up, twirled her hat, and gave a slight bow. "It is my absolute pleasure."
District C was a long way from Lucia Town. Fula procured an old, beat-up square-nosed truck from somewhere. She sat in the pickup, slapped the dashboard, and waved at Galaxy. "Come on."
Once the engine started, she elaborated: "Traffic checkpoints around District C are extremely strict right now. We'll drive to the perimeter first and figure out a way in."
Galaxy didn't object.
It took four full days to reach District C. Sitting in the passenger seat, Galaxy quietly watched the changing scenery outside. Once they left Lucia Town, the blinding white snow disappeared, and she was once again enveloped by concrete jungles. Only at nightfall could she see the bustling cities bathed in glaring neon lights.
But she only watched them from afar.
Fula was afraid of exposing her and didn't dare drive into the urban zones. It was said that the country's mechanical detective-bots had recently undergone a massive upgrade; even with a bio-camo suit, there was a risk of detection.
Galaxy didn't care. She just leaned against the window, smoking expressionlessly, occasionally engaging with Fula in activities that burned off excess energy.
She was used to draping her legs over the other woman's shoulders, and Fula seemed to immensely enjoy making the Galaxy—whom everyone in the organization looked up to—cry out out of control under her touch.
She would occasionally kiss the corners of Galaxy's eyes; she loved the taste of her tears.
Sometimes, she would tell Galaxy about her past: her gambling-addict mother, her younger sister who was tricked into drug trials while looking for street work, and how she herself had tried to claim her sister's body only to be brutally beaten and chased away. She had nearly died in a dark corner next to a dumpster, hidden from the neon lights.
The mechanical police always spouted lines about serving all citizens of the Federation, but they were ultimately controlled by the very people she despised. Even the directives they followed were utterly disgusting.
—Do not rescue useless individuals.
She leaned against the dumpster, overwhelmed by the stench. Only the buzzing flies paid her any mind, while not a single one of the omnipresent mechanical cops offered her any mercy.
They coldly scanned her, delivered the verdict that she was trash, and then walked away with their noses in the air.
Just as arrogant as the people who had taken her sister's life.
Galaxy listened expressionlessly. The cigarette between her fingers had nearly burned down. She touched her chest, suddenly realizing she could no longer muster any sympathy for such a tragic backstory.
She didn't know if it was because she had simply seen too many miserable people, or because of something else, but she had lost her capacity for empathy.
Fula was getting dressed. The temperature in District C was higher than anywhere else because it was close to magma flows and volcanoes. Ever since they neared the district borders, Fula had discarded her heavy coat, wearing only a tank top and hot pants that bared her scarred arms and calves.
Scars that Galaxy had purposefully ignored for a long time.
And scars she planned to continue ignoring from now on.
Comments
Post a Comment