Despite spending much of my life within the sterile walls of the Bunker, I have definitely experienced my fair share of nasty things. For example, the literal heaps of manure left by our livestock, or my Dad’s few attempts at cooking. 

But none of that could have ever prepared me for the sheer reek that oozed out of every inch of the sewer. I’m convinced that had I not worn a mask; the smell alone would have burned my nose hairs right off. 

Lavish tried his best to assure me that it was most likely just runoff that we were slogging through, but I refused to believe him. There was no way in hell that plain old rainwater could smell so absolutely revolting.

Seriously, it was like someone died in there.

“You know,” I say, “I kind of wish we had just risked breaking through the border.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Lavish grimaces. “But we’re almost there according to my map.”

“Fresh air can’t come sooner,” I mutter.

“That’s actually one of the interesting things about Artip,” Lavish says. “According to SUSAN’s database, the O2 levels in most of the major district regions are actually fairly breathable.”

“You don’t say?”

“I’m not sure how the technology works,” Lavish admits. “But I’ll bet you any money that there’s a system of atmospheric regulators or something like that interspersed throughout the city.”

“At least we won’t have to wear our gasmasks,” I say. “I feel like that might blow our cover. Unless we can get one of those fancy masks you showed me.”

“Yes,” Lavish says. “That’s still a mission priority.”

“Right-,”

THUNK!

The sound of something heavy and solid hitting the ground shocks me into silence. My gun is out faster than I can think, and I aim it down the dark abyss of the sewer with my finger already pressed against the trigger.

“Who’s there?” I demand.

No response.

Lavish shines his light down the sewer pipe. I take a few steps forward, my eyes darting around to scan for any sign of a threat. 

“Who’s there?” I ask again. 

“Probably nobody,” Lavish says, “Come on. This sewer’s in bad condition—a piece of the pipe probably just fell or something. We’ve got one more minute of walking to go, and less than fifteen before they start up the next thermal scan.”

“A piece of the pipe? You can’t be serious,” I say, not even turning my head to regard him.

“Whatever. Regardless, we need to keep moving. Don’t you want to get out of this nasty sewer?”

“I-,”
Lavish stops me before I can protest any further. “Rekill,” he says. It’s just my name, but the tone of his voice is enough for me to understand. 

Sighing, I turn. I re-holster my gun and begin to head back in the direction of our goal. My ears stay alert to detect any further noises, but there are none.  After a few more moments of walking Lavish stops me. He angles his flashlight upwards. When I tilt my head to follow, I can just make out the rim of a manhole cover. A rusted ladder stretches down from the manhole.

“There’s our exit,” Lavish says. 

“Great. Who first?” I ask.

“You kidding?” Lavish laughs before stuffing his flashlight into his backpack. He grabs on to the ladder and begins to climb. I follow after.

Lavish struggles to open the manhole cover, but as soon as he does, I’m instantly blinded by a beam of cold sunlight. As soon as we’re both out, Lavish replaces the manhole cover. Our exit location is a loading dock behind a few stores. A nearby alleyway leads out to a street full of bustling people and technology.

“Got our invisibility cloaks?” Lavish asks. 

“Sure do,” I say. I reach into my bag and pull out the small pieces of technology. I pass one to Lavish and hook the other one around my chest. “Now, listen—these things don’t have the greatest battery life. So, only use it when necessary, okay?”

“Aye, aye,” Lavish says. When I don’t laugh, he punches me on the shoulder lightly. “Hey, Rekill, lighten up.”

“There’s a fifty percent chance we’re going to die today,” I say.

Lavish breaks out into a grin. “Yes, but there’s also a fifty percent chance that we’re going to live. Come on, take off that ridiculous gasmask. We’ve got a hospital to raid.”

I gingerly unhook my gasmask from my face, tucking it away. I’m shocked when the air I breathe in doesn’t instantly cause my lungs to disintegrate. Lavish and I walk down the alleyway leading to the street, and when we finally emerge out the other side—it suddenly hits me: we’re in Artip.  

When I was young, Dad showed me pictures of what Artip used to look back when it was a human city called Chicago. From those photographs, I witnessed magnificent skyscrapers, beautiful artistic monuments, and outdoor amphitheaters. 

The current-day Artip looks nothing like it once did. 

Many of the skyscrapers still remain, but their height and size are no longer powerful—instead, they’re oppressive. The streets are gray and lined with security cameras that constantly sweep back and forth like sentries. A monitor hovering above the ground approaches people at random, asking them to scan a strange piece of black and white striped paper attached to their wrists.

People mill past Lavish and I without paying any mind at all. They’re all wearing a somewhat similar uniform—a cotton white t-shirt and gray pants. Additional to the striped piece of paper on their wrists is a tight-fitting necklace the color of blood that has been chained around every person’s neck. 

Suddenly, one of the strange hovering monitors starts to approach Lavish and I.

“Lavish!” I say, “Turn on your cloak.” 

“What a way to test it out,” Lavish says.

We both activate our cloaking devices and stand brutally still as the strange monitor approaches us. A red scanner sweeps over our bodies, and I pray that whatever scanner it uses won’t read heat signatures. 

“FALSE READ. CALIBRATION NEEDED,” the robot announces. “ROUTING BACK TO DOCK.”

The monitor turns around and hovers off. Lavish releases a huge breath of relief as soon as it’s gone. “Aw, Rekill,” he says. “I think we confused it.”

To be continued…