The atmosphere was heavy. Although all the residents of the Lower Level were celebrating the National Caldoria Day today, Ferrick had other plans. Today, he intended to escape and start everything anew. This thought both excited and terrified him. By nature, he was afraid of change. He was a homebody, and stability was the most important thing to him—that's why he had married Elena. Her job and income gave him a sense of security. However, after her death, everything changed. He withdrew into himself and for seven years remained stuck in a monotonous routine, with no room for joy or dreams. Only a conversation with Garlos opened his eyes. He realized that the only way out was escape. What if it didn't work? Ferrick didn't even want to think about it.
He walked through the dark streets of the city. Above his head, as always, stretched long lamps casting cold, artificial light. On either side, he passed the same dull blocks that he had seen all his life. The only difference was that today, due to the holiday, many of the residents had come outside. They stood in small groups, chatting and shouting propaganda slogans.
Caldoria's holiday wasn't any different from a regular day on the Lower Level. In fact, it was just another Wednesday—only with a different name. Ferrick had the feeling that only he noticed it. Everyone around seemed to be enjoying the day as if it were something special. The only real change was that instead of the usual hourly news broadcasts, today the government messages rang out every half hour, repeating the same slogans about unity, loyalty, and duty to Caldoria.
Ferrick spotted a group of people ahead shouting something aloud. He didn't want to get involved with them, so he quickened his pace, trying to pass them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, before he could get away, one of them approached him.
- Glory and honor to Caldoria, brother! - shouted a slightly drunk man in a characteristic, thick jacket.
- Glory and honor! - Ferrick replied automatically, not even stopping for a moment.
He continued walking, silently praying that no one else would approach him. Until recently, he often initiated conversations, looked for new acquaintances, and readily engaged in discussions with anyone who was willing. But today was different. He had more important things on his mind. He didn't want anyone to stop him, distract him, or—worse yet—start asking questions. Today, the only thing that mattered was that his escape plan succeeded.
As he entered the Buffra district, Ferrick could already see in the distance the "Under the Stars" block—the place where he was supposed to meet Garlos and his friend. He had avoided trams today. He knew that due to the holiday, they would be crowded, and he couldn't afford any unnecessary stops or risk drawing attention to himself. Every step was deliberate; every choice mattered. He could feel his heart racing with every meter that brought him closer to the meeting point. If everything went according to plan, he would leave the Lower Level behind by tonight.
After a long walk, he finally arrived at the main entrance to the block. He reached for the door handle and stepped inside. The air smelled of mildew and old cigarette smoke, which seemed to have embedded itself into the walls and furniture. The reception area was in a deplorable state.
Behind the worn-out, dirty desk sat an older man with a long, gray beard. His tired eyes didn't even lift for a moment to look at Ferrick. The desk was not only dirty but also scratched, and one of its legs was propped up by a pile of newspapers that must have been there for years. A dusty old fan in the corner wheezed, trying to stir the heavy, stifling air. The walls were stained and full of holes, as if someone regularly vented their frustration on them. In many places, the paint was peeling off, revealing the bare concrete surface. The floor, however, was relatively well-maintained, though that might have been due to the fact that the tiles hadn't yet worn out.
Ferrick remembered this place differently when he had first visited. Back then, however, he hadn't paid attention to the details—he was focused on his own matters and didn't notice the reality around him. Now, though, he saw everything clearly, and although it wasn't a surprise to him, he felt an odd pang of unease.
- Are you here for something specific? - asked the old man, his voice impatient, barely lifting his gaze from his yellowed papers.
- I'm here to visit Mr. Mifrin - Ferrick replied, trying to sound casual.
The old man raised an eyebrow slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.
- Mr. Garlos Mifrin? What's he doing today, hosting some social gathering? I swear someone visited him earlier this afternoon.
- It's just a reunion. You know, today is the National Caldoria Day and...
Ferrick began, trying to keep the conversation natural.
- Yes, yes, I know - the old man interrupted, waving his hand. - Just go already and leave me in peace.
- Thank you very much.
After a brief exchange, Ferrick made his way to the stairwell and began climbing to the fourth floor, where his friend's apartment was located. The stairs creaked quietly under his feet, and the smell of dampness and old paint filled the narrow space. When he reached the hallway, his gaze immediately fell on the door with the number seven. He stood there motionless for a moment, feeling his heart race. For a moment, he simply stood still, uncertain.
Was what he was doing right? What if the Upper Level wasn't as colorful as they said? What if it was all just an illusion, a dream that would shatter against brutal reality? And what if he was making the worst decision of his life right now? Doubts piled up in his mind, but he knew he couldn't back out. If he didn't do this now, he would never escape this monotonous existence. He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked on the door. There was no turning back now. It was too late.
The door to the apartment creaked open slightly, and Garlos's face appeared. After recognizing him, the man smiled widely and opened the door fully.
- It's you, my friend. You're right on time. Come in, we've been waiting for you - Garlos said, gesturing for him to come inside.
Ferrick walked into the apartment lightly, feeling the tension gradually ease. Garlos closed the door behind him with a quiet, almost imperceptible motion, as though worried they might be followed. Before Ferrick could ask any questions, both men headed toward the living room.
The person they had mentioned earlier was already waiting in the room. He wore a black coat and gray jeans, giving him a stern but elegant appearance. Although he was elderly, he seemed to be in excellent shape. His face was adorned with large, gray eyebrows, and his long silver hair fell over his shoulders. He also had a light beard, which added to his rugged appearance. Despite his calm demeanor, there was a mysterious aura around him, as though he was hiding something he didn't want anyone to know. He gave the impression of a person who was closed off, distrustful of others, as if everyone around him had to pass an invisible test. His penetrating gaze assessed everyone who came near. Ferrick felt an unexpected chill run down his spine.
- This is Mr. Malvin Tenvor - said Garlos, gesturing toward the man. - Mr. Malvin, this is Donald Ferrick.
The man nodded silently, and Ferrick instinctively greeted him, trying not to betray his unease. Both men sat next to the guest, silently waiting for him to speak first. After a long moment, however, it was Garlos who decided to break the silence.
- Well, we - he swallowed. - We've been discussing the plan for our escape with Mr. Malvin. Everything has been planned out in detail, so all that's left is to head to the specific elevator. From what we know, it's located far behind the inhabited areas, in the Ozymandias district. Usually, it's used as a meeting point for members of the TDP. It's surrounded by numerous soldiers, but today, due to the holiday, the patrols have been significantly reduced. This means it's the perfect moment for us to slip in and escape to the Upper Level. I know the plan seems...
- Did you love your wife? - Malvin suddenly interrupted Garlos's dialogue, addressing Ferrick directly.
Ferrick fell silent for a moment, shocked by this unexpected question. He didn't know how to respond. The whole situation felt so sudden and strange that it was hard for him to find the right words. His mind was racing with questions, and one of them was why, of all things, Malvin had chosen to bring up this topic now.
- Uh, maybe we should focus on our plan? - Garlos suggested, trying to change the subject.
- I'm not talking to you - Malvin said calmly but firmly, staring directly at Ferrick. - Did you love your wife?
Another deep silence fell. Ferrick didn't want to answer this question, but he felt that this might be some sort of trust test. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, then slowly opened them and looked at Mr. Malvin. His gaze was more determined now, though still full of uncertainty. At this moment, he knew that the answer could matter, but he didn't know what path it would lead him down.
- Yes, I loved her - Ferrick replied.
- I don't think so, sir - Malvin said. - You think this is some silly test, and you try to be firm, but the truth is I'm simply curious. Is someone like you even capable of love?
- Sorry, but I don't understand what you mean. We're here, I assume, about the escape.
- In a way, yes. But for me, the more important matter is your relationship with your wife. You see, I'm quite curious, and your situation really caught my interest.
Ferrick looked very irritated. How dare this man ask such disgusting questions? It was none of his business. His blood was boiling, and the tension was rising. He decided he would say nothing more. He decided to remain silent, denying Malvin any satisfaction from the conversation.
- Well, if you don't want to say anything, I'll thank you then. It was nice doing business with you - Malvin said, and any trace of interest disappeared from his face.
Malvin stood up from the chair and walked toward the door. Garlos looked disheveled, completely unaware of what was happening. His expression was full of surprise and concern. He moved toward the guest, seemingly trying to stop him, but before he could say anything, Ferrick spoke.
- I didn't love her - he said under his breath. - I was with her only for the money. For a better lifestyle. I despised her so much that when I found out she had cancer, I felt fulfilled inside. Ultimately, when she was on her deathbed, I told her everything, and I was incredibly proud of it.
Malvin stopped in the hallway, slightly ajar door, listening to what Ferrick had to say. His posture was calm, almost indifferent, but in his eyes, there was a certain intensity, as if he was waiting for something that might explain the motives of his conversation partner.
- Months passed, and I fell into a routine. Day after day, I came back to an empty apartment, drowning my sorrows in alcohol and tobacco. I closed myself off. Nothing interested me. And when I hit rock bottom, I realized that I actually missed her - he closed his eyes. - I miss her warm words. I miss her optimism. I miss her dreams.
Garlos stood silently, leaning his shoulder against the living room wall.
- The truth is, I'm doing this only for her. I feel like I owe it to her.
Malvin closed the door behind him and then returned to the living room. He sat in his previous spot and then took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Slowly, he took one out, tapping it lightly on the table, as if he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Before lighting it, he looked at Ferrick and Garlos.
- Do you gentlemen smoke? - he asked.
- I'll have one - Garlos replied.
- I don't smoke. I just quit recently - Ferrick answered, shaking his head as if the subject wasn't particularly comfortable for him.
The smoke began to rise into the air, forming a delicate mist that enveloped the room. Malvin remained silent, staring at the table in front of him, where his old, worn hands rested.
- I had a daughter - he said. - My wife died during childbirth, so she was all I had left. Unfortunately, to my misfortune, she was diagnosed with autism. The law sent such individuals to the Wasted Level. Whether they were children or adults, it didn't matter.
He took a drag from the cigarette, and the smoke left his nostrils, rising into the air. His hand trembled slightly as his gaze dropped to the table. He looked deeply troubled.
- For 15 years, I kept her locked up, hiding her from the world. One day, as teenagers do, she decided to rebel and left the apartment. On the stairs, I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't give up. In a moment of emotion, I pushed her, and she fell with a loud crash all the way down. She broke her neck.
Ferrick sat, staring at Malvin's face. His expression was empty, as if the memory of his daughter's death had become part of his daily existence. Garlos, in the meantime, was staring at the corner of the room, as though looking for something there.
- What was her name? - Ferrick asked.
- Mija. Named after my mother - Malvin replied.
A deep silence filled the room. The smoke rising from the cigarettes made it seem like this was all just a dream – but in reality, it was more like a nightmare. The men sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, trying to make sense of what had happened. No words were spoken, no one tried to break the silence. Everything around them had become overwhelmingly real, yet surreal – as if time had briefly stood still, allowing them to fully immerse in their inner struggles.
- It's better to take the tram to the Ozymandias district. We'll save some time - Malvin broke the silence and stood up, preparing to leave.
He adjusted his black coat, trying to brush off the cigarette residue that had settled on the fabric.
- It's time for us - he said quietly.
Both men nodded and followed Malvin toward the exit. When they were outside, Garlos locked the entrance and stared at it for a moment. It was the only place he had always returned to with a smile on his face, but now he knew he would never return. Ferrick noticed that his friend seemed slightly broken. He himself felt lost, unsure of what to think about all this. Everything was happening so quickly.