Samuel

"Minnie? Was this the last spare parts shop on Level Four?" Samuel looked at the leather bracelet on his right wrist. Attached to it, like a watch, was a device that connected him to the AI. Immediately, the hologram of the little fairy flickered.

Minnie looked at him, her expression bored as usual. At least Samuel thought she seemed bored. The small figure made of metal and porcelain remained expressionless forever. She was only a picture. A machine. 

"Positive!" confirmed the AI.

"Does that mean I can't find any spare parts for my radiation meter?" Sighing, he looked at the false sky. Just now, it showed gray clouds as if it were raining. But no rain fell.

"Negative."

"Huh?" Hopefully, he raised his wrist and looked at the small, green projection of a girl. "No? Then there is still a dealer here? You said we went to all on Level Four!"

"Right. But there are other dealers on Level Three."

"Level Three?" Sighing, Samuel leaned against one of the walls of the house and stroked his dark blond hair. Well, mostly dark blonde. Part of his hair was green. "Three?"

"Three", the AI repeated.

Opposite him, a holographic advertisement flickered and declared a beauty pageant. They were looking for 'Miss Burgstadt'. 'Reading skills not necessary! All young ladies from Level Three and Four, who are between 16 and 20 years old, are invited to register. The prerequisite is a perfect appearance, no mutations, athleticism, and a healthy body!' was written under the picture of a pretty girl without any blemish.

In this case, a healthy body meant not only free of disease but also free of any mutation markers in the DNA. I wouldn't have a chance... What am I thinking? I? Miss Burgstadt? Ridiculous. Samuel grimaced. Who will win?

This competition took place once a year. The winner became the face of the city for a year. That was no small thing! The entire city followed the competition with great interest. It was the event of the year.

The spectacle.

Especially for girls from Level Three, it meant a chance for a better life. The winner lived on Level Five for a year, was the guest of honor at every celebration, promoted special products, and became the bride of everyone‘s dreams. Yes, the dream bride. So far, every girl has been married at the end of the year. Without exception. And they always married into Level Five.

There were conspicuously few mutations found on Level Five, as they were undesirable there. The upper class saw itself as perfect. Those whose job it was to pass on good genes. To maintain a healthy society. If the markers were found in the DNA that a mutation could pass on to heirs, the person was sterilized. It was cruel.

But this has rarely happened lately, as many of the new babies there were designer babies. Perfect from the ground up and without blemishes. Not even in the DNA. The technology was relatively new and expensive. A breakthrough in research. The salvation of humanity, they said.

Residents of Level Four could usually only dream of this. But there were few mutations to be found at this Level. Also, thanks to medicine. The markers could not be removed, and the transmission could not be prevented, but the effect could be alleviated and sometimes prevented. And this happened with injections that 'turn off' the markers as long as the young person was still a young fetus in the mother's womb.  This was expensive, but quite a few inhabitants of the Level could afford it.

Unlike on Level Three, the stronghold of mutations.

The gutter.

The city's garbage dump.

 "I can't imagine finding a reputable dealer on Level Three", Samuel grumbled. "There you will only find dirt, diseases, and poverty." On Level Five, people with mutations were often looked down upon, which is why Samuel was reluctant to be there. His green strand of hair betrayed him. Colorful hair or eyes were not so bad. While the rich despised them, the residents on Level Four often wore colorful hair with pride. Other mutations, on the other hand, such as four ears or worse, were not particularly respected here either. Unwanted. If expectant mothers could not afford the injection, they had those mutations removed from their children if possible.

"According to my database, there are four scrap dealers on level three," Minnie squeaked. "Scrap, repairs, spare parts."

"I don't want any junk! I need a spare part! And not one made of SCRAP", Samuel grumbled and smoothed out his uniform. He was a soldier, stationed in Military Base 2. His uniform consisted of a lot of leather, thick fabric, and robust shoes. His firearm hung from a belt decorated with eyelets and chains.

"Good spare parts can also be found at scrap dealers." Minnie looked at him blankly as ever. She moved her wings slightly. "Should I ask for you if one of the dealers has your spare part?"

"Yes." Dejected, Samuel closed his eyes. He didn't want to go down to Level Three. He preferred to stay in the dazzling world of Level Four, with its neon lights, steam engines, and colorful advertisements.

"I've found a dealer!" Minnie quickly replied. "Level 3, in the narrow alley!"

"They don't even have real street names and house numbers there!" scolded Samuel. Of course, this was nothing new for him, after all, he often had to go to the ghetto of the city to end riots or arrest criminals. That was a large part of his job. He knew his way around there well. But Samuel wanted more. He wanted to become a higher officer and had signed up for the necessary further training. He was still waiting for the acceptance. Or a rejection.

Green hair. That alone was enough for a rejection. But Samuel knew that he could become a good officer. He was talented, his comrades respected him, he knew how to plan... He had everything a good officer needed.

As an officer, he would get better pay, better quarters...

Annoyed, he went to the barred elevators that connected the levels. Even from afar, he could hear the rattling and squeaking of the gears that went up and down the elevators. "What's the merchant's name?" Samuel asked.

"Flo."

"And further?"

Minnie's wings flapped again. "Nothing more. Only Flo."

"Oh." An orphan, then. The rabble of Level Three. Most children ended up as 'orphans' if they had strong mutations and were therefore not wanted by their parents from Level Five, rarely Level Four. And all the orphans had no surname. Only one name.

An orphan. He must be very unsightly. Four arms? Only half a face? Six eyes?