Chapter XIII

Bitlan Ancaris

Caves were Adria's comfort zone. The deeper she went, the quieter they became. It was not silent but rather peaceful, considering the distance from the other miners. The rocks had their own language, compressing and decompressing, clashing against each other, echoing in the underground tunnel; the constant clicking of metal against stone was part of the ambiance.

She felt the heat, though it could have been worse. Her surroundings were lit by a soft strip of light attached to the ceiling. Adria took a break from work, drank water, and pulled out a dirty book from her bag; with the help of an LED light mounted on her silver helmet, she tried to read.

The words were fuzzy; she couldn't focus on them. They seemed so distant she had to get closer to peruse them as they slipped from their place into a dark abyss of ink at the center of the pages, deep where she couldn't reach them anymore.

Adria took her eyes off the text and closed the book, tired. Something moved under those lights; it was far from her reach. She put the book back in her bag and slung it over her right shoulder and stood alert, expectant.

Nearby, footsteps announced the proximity of someone in there. Not everyone went that deep into the tunnels. The noise grew stronger. A figure walked closer to Adria, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse of them, as it merged with the shadows. One step after another, the extarri waited, uncertain of what she was about to witness.

A faceless figure emerged from darkness. It stopped, avoiding the bright light coming from Adria’s protective helmet.

“What do you want?” She couldn't hear her own voice.

“What you want, I have,” a husky female voice spoke to her mind. The strange figure was dressed in dark protective garments. The tunnel’s lights turned off.

Adria would have been terrified under other circumstances, but something made her feel safe around that presence. She stepped into the darkness, turning off the LED on her helmet.

After waking up, it was hard to remember the context of her dreams, as only a vague memory remained. The faceless figure had visited her for years.

It was 10:12 p.m. Adria rolled on her bed and stared at the cement ceiling, illuminated by a soft orange light emitted by the translucent glass pipes placed between the walls, heating the block. Her body was covered in sweat. Waking up before her alarm had become a regular occurrence. She calculated four hours of sleep, enough for her body to recover from the burden of the past two days; she felt better, not as exhausted, and more clear-minded.

Adria turned around, facing the inflatable mattress covered with sheets, both soaked and dirty. She hadn’t even bothered to take a shower before going to bed. The woman lifted herself, in dire need of a bath.

There was a booth in the left corner where she went after removing her underwear; once inside, she sealed the sliding door. A white light turned on. There was a metallic button on the wall, and she pressed it. A blast of warm water hit her body from every direction. An opening in the ceiling dispensed soap; she caught the liquid with her hands and scrubbed herself with it. One minute later, cold water sprayed out with pressure, cleansing the foam from her body. Warm air dried her pale skin in a few moments. The entire process took less than two minutes.

Adria stepped out of the shower, walked to the bed, grabbed the portable light that sat on her nightstand, turned it on, and hung it on a rope next to her rack of clothes. There, she explored her limited options; the entire wardrobe hung on a rig made with broomsticks. In Dictaduria, things such as fashion and style were prohibited.

Those overalls were mostly gray, with the RT3X19-47 blockcode linking her to that block.

She was in a good mood; tonight, she could wear something better, even if it was centuries-old clothing. The style people wore in Negativus was better than the hideous one-piece uniform. Although other items tempted her, she chose a dark wool coat, a long grey sleeve, and her favorite dark blue deniyon pants, a pair she had bought in the undercity a month before.

Once dressed, she put on her ingraviboots. Adria removed them from their energy generator and slipped them on. Ready, the dictadurian slid her bedroom door open and entered the living room. The smell of onion caught her attention; it came from the kitchen, where her grandfather was cooking.

“Are you hungry?” The man noticed her presence and showed a wrinkly smile.

"Oh yeah, this fasting has extended itself longer than it should."

"Why do you keep doing that to yourself? It's bad to do so much work with a calorie deficit, please try to eat more, we at least have enough gatvits for food. Didn't you learn to appreciate your body while you were on Malkuth?" Bitlan seemed annoyed.

Adria felt attacked by his comment. Her grandfather liked to pretend to live a lifestyle worthy of a Malkuthian. "It’s not like there’s an appetite, believe me, I eat what my body asks for.”

"You are the one in charge of your body, dear. We have to wait a moment for the tacos to be ready. Bring the stuff to the table and tell me about your day, would you?" Bitlan said, shifting the mood.

Adria's stomach grumbled. She walked over to Bitlan and kissed him on the cheek.

"You look terrible. Great outfit, though. Going somewhere?"

"Thanks," she replied to his piercing insight. Reaching the counter, Adria gathered glasses and plates; the aroma of grilled soy meat, rice, and beans awakened her appetite. "Negativus. I have to leave in an hour."

"What's happening?" He never hesitated to pry.

"The usual: our crumbling economy, a twenty-three-hour shift at the mine, enhancers, acidic rain, people melting in the streets. I randomly saved a stranger from Gorbat’s umbras..." Adria regretted mentioning that part as soon as it slipped out.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Why were they in danger? Did you get into a fight…?" Her grandfather was intrigued.

"His name is Corven. He's been in Dictaduria for less than a month, a former Binah with alters in his possession. We're meeting at midnight in Lux de Noctis. He owes me. I fought two umbras for him." She felt compelled to be honest with her best advisor.

"Do you believe his word? Alters aren't something you find in Negativus out of kindness or anywhere for that matter. It sounds fishy, did you figure out how he got them”

Adria finished setting the table. "That’s what I’m planning to do. Don’t worry about it. I’m cautious, Bit. Trust me, I’ve learned from the best."

"Grab the salsa and the lemons from the fridge. There’s horchata water," he said, unable to hide his pride, knowing she referred to him. His granddaughter fetched those items and placed them on the table while Bitlan heated tortillas in a pan, content and enjoying the process.

"I can’t wait anymore; I’m sorry." She took the tortillas he offered and loaded them with the soy meat mix from the pan, the orange-looking rice with vegetables and whole black beans spiced just right; she sat at the table and ladled some salsa onto the tacos.

"Go for it, you’ve earned as much. I’ll leave more tortillas heating for you," he said.

Adria devoured the two tacos in less than thirty seconds, her hunger finally abating. Bitlán sat across from her, ready to eat. The old extarri picked up a tortilla but paused to look at Adria before filling it. "Where are the cilantro and chopped onion?"

"Furka! I left them in the fridge," she exclaimed, standing up while sipping rice water, then retrieved them.

"Tacos aren't tacos without them, Dri."

She brought a blue container filled with chopped green and white vegetables to the table.

"Thank you, Dri," Bitlan said, one of the few who still used Adria's nickname. He sprinkled the veggies on his tacos, returned to the grill to flip the extra tortillas, then came back to eat.

When the new batch was ready, she filled her plate, left three more warming for her grandfather, and added roasted jalapeño salsa, lemon, cilantro, and onion—the proper way, according to Bitlan. He consumed his third taco with the same fervor Adria had, prompting her to wonder when he last ate. She was about to ask when he stood up, ready for another round.

"What will you do if Corven gives you the alters?" he asked while waiting for the tortillas to crisp.

She replied, half-chewing, "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean by 'what do you mean'?" he retorted, visibly irritated. "It's clear. If you get the alters, will you attempt to escape from Sectum? That's what I'm asking; that's my question." Bitlan brought the new batch of tacos to the table and sat.

"I've known him for half an hour, but he didn't seem like a bad person. I saved his life. That has to count for something. I'm trying not to harbor false hopes, but if it works out, the plan is for us to escape from Dictaduria and leave Sectum."

"I won't be part of it, Dri; I'm sorry." He remained silent until he finished his last taco, then gave a sad smile.

"What are you talking about?" Adria’s heart sank.

"I’ve said lately I would leave in a heartbeat but never believed it was possible. I'm not leaving Dictaduria. My life is here, far from those bastards in Malkuth and their furkan Sephiroth. If you want to take them, I can stop you but know that’s uncharted territory, staying here and going to Capitalia is a viable option. Either way, new opportunities will arise with or without me," he stated, his voice carrying a note of finality.

Those words made Adria believe in his sincerity. "That's nonsense. Come with me. Don't play the hero," she couldn't accept his decision. "We're a team."

"Not this time," an ironic laugh escaped him. "Find a better team. Markus or Bostan would suffice, take the whole gang out! Do you think an alter would work through pregnancy? It might be good for Drunia"

"How can you think like that?" Adria was frustrated by his childish stance. "I'm not leaving you behind. I can't do that."

"Whether you can or not, I don't care; it is my choice." He left the table, gathered the dishes, and carried them to the sink.

"Why?" Adria stared at him, her anger building.

"Why, what?" He looked back with confusion.

"It makes no sense. This is out of character, Bit! Why would you not escape with me? Leave Sectum and that decrepit vessel behind. Start a new life in Malkuth, free, with a new youth!"

"I have lived three hundred years more than you. I've experienced, felt, and wronged too much – friends, family, the Edictum Vitae, hell, you barely know the scratch about Eslavia. For me, a life in aequiteism... sounds unfitting. Look at my situation; I deserve this. There are plenty of reasons for me to stay. I have been an an Extarri for sixty years and will continue to do so the rest of my days."

"You mean to say you'd rather stay here in pain, sick, hungry, poor, and alone? Because of your pride?" She had never heard such resolve from Bitlan. There, washing dishes, was a man Adria did not recognize; he had never expressed such sentiments. Her grandfather would not abandon a life of aequiteism so readily. Anger boiled within her.

"No. For my crimes," Bitlan corrected her.

Adria was so disheartened that she burst out, "You may believe to be taking a wise choice, but this reaction is immature, foolish, and comes from a selfish mentality. To be willing to live without aequiteism when you have a chance to go back to that life by embracing a new identity makes you nothing more than a coward. Forget about me; stay in this damned block you cherish so much and relish your precious concrete existence. How long will you last without me? You are in no condition to work anywhere in Dictaduria or Negativus; how will you manage, slow and sick as you are?"

"Perhaps I won't—" His response made his granddaughter scream in despair, overwhelmed by his illogic. Her fists clenched; there was more to say, but not everything was fair. If Adria continued pouring with words, she might regret it later.

"Thanks for the tacos," she left the kitchen, feeling defeated in an argument she never wanted. Back at her room, checked the clock: 11:02 PM. Adria needed to get to Lux de Noctis; her room was a mess. There was no time to tidy up. She picked up her bag from the floor beside the hideous overalls and packed everything that could be of need.

Adria couldn't recall the last time she made her bed; Bitlan was the one who took care of that. The elder enjoyed it; limited by his physical condition, he did what he could with care. She had spoken harshly to him. What was he expecting? His logic was flawed. Yet, the argument changed nothing. She had to find a way to bring him back to Malkuth; his preferences notwithstanding. Adria gathered all her necessary items, placed them in her graphene purse, took her coat and turned off the lights, before returning to the kitchen.

Bitlan was gone; he had cleaned up and left. Adria moved to the living room, where they had spent countless nights trapped in the same routine, watching old two dimensional movies. Opposite her, the door to her grandfather's room was closed, barring her entry. She understood. A balance had been disrupted; they both needed space.

Approaching the heater in the center of the living room, she noted the small orange flames casting shadows on the walls. It was warm for once. They had been having heating issues for months, at least he’d be warm.

In resignation, expecting Bitlan to stay in his room, she left the block in silence.

****

That's it for Chapter XIII!

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