Roulette Lounge was a thing of the past. Despite opening and closing multiple times, the establishment, said to have been around for over 200 years, had consistently made a comeback.

The entrance was guarded by men who appeared more like machines than humans, with a glass elevator that brought guests down from the street into the building. The nature of it resulted in a long line of people waiting for their chances to get in, since only five bodies could ride the box at a time. Wrapped around the brick building were all manner of delinquents and eloquent souls.

The lounge had but three requirements.

Only living beings were allowed as guests. Bots and other automatons were strictly forbidden. Enhancements and cybernetic limbs were fine, of course, but individuals who appeared far from organic were subject to screenings.

Engaging in fights or creating disturbances that would disrupt the peaceful atmosphere of the establishment was not allowed.

And finally, individuals had to be clothed. As time passed, the boundary of that rule became less distinct. In the past, both men and women were required to wear formal attire to enter, but some could only afford tattered clothes. Somewhere along the line, the lounge softened its standard to simply asking that genitals be covered. Had the rule not changed, their business would have suffered a dramatic cut in numbers. Thankfully, Jabari, shirtless and in thrifted shoes and shorts, was acceptable, at least.

When the apprentice was finally allowed to step onto the elevator, he and others riding with him were warned to avoid the dance floor if their weight exceeded 400 pounds. Before the boy could question why, the doors shut.

Descending into the earth, Jabari thought it was curious that no one had asked him to leave his tool belt outside. Most of his tools and gadgets had been snatched and stolen, but he had managed to keep a few simple instruments. Inside the glass box, he did his best not to stare at any of the other riders, but he struggled to keep his eyes straight. Behind him stood two gentlemen who were rough as a road and smelled just the same. In front of him were two women, clutching their coats shut as if showing their cleavage to the street rats was an indecency too harsh to stand.

As the box fell into the earth, light dimmed till only modest bulbs gave a glow enough to see. It took perhaps five minutes to come to a stop, at which point a silence fell. Jabari’s heart raced as he struggled to hear anything beyond his heartbeat, his breathing, and the scuff of his shoes on the floor. The darkness hid everything until the doors opened from behind and the light returned.

To the boy’s surprise, the women who had been standing in disgust had moved to hold the men at gunpoint. The street rats were frozen in fear with their hands up. Once the elevator doors were fully open, the women put away their weapons and made way for the men to scurry away. Jabari could only watch in confusion as the women followed. Had it not been for the lounge rules, there surely would have been bloodshed in that box.

The apprentice was so struck by the realization that he nearly forgot to exit the elevator himself.

Velvet rugs, dark woods, and extravagant light features. To the left was a collection of dazzling gambling tables. To the right was a bar and seating that spanned different elevated platforms placed to overlook the games. Though there were people of every bracket wandering the lounge, there remained division amongst them. The richer folk kept to their tables, and the less fortunate did the same.

The only place that saw a true mix was between the two spaces. The middling section where a live band was positioned to feed the room with ongoing soulful melodies attracted most bodies.

The dance floor.

There, Jabari found the lush flooring changed to thick glass. Through it, there was a clear view of individuals kept inside claustrophobic cells. The boy couldn’t understand why, but they appeared to be there by choice. Those prisoners, under the dancing steps of guests moving to somber tones, drank and danced as nonchalantly as the patrons watching them from above.

But when the song came to an end, when the music stopped, so too did their idle bliss.

Onlookers turned their eyes down below their feet to peer through the floor with anticipation. Those who were trapped in the glass boxes were, of course, far more stiff. Jabari had only begun to part his lips to question the atmosphere when suddenly a number was called. The corresponding prisoner’s cell turned demonic red. In a split second, the individual inside was torn apart by flames so powerful they could reduce metal and bone to liquid. Once all was consumed by fire, the band played a new tune.

The air took back its life. Prisoners and onlookers alike went back to their casual festivities.

Though the lounge was far more pristine than the city surrounding it, that place was a fit in its grotesque treatment of life.

“You must be Zero’s boy?” A voice spoke in greeting, quickly catching the attention of Jabari.

“What? Who?” He asked, turning to watch a man cut through the crowd to reach him.

“My name is Destiny. Your mentor told you to find me, yes?”

Standing nearly seven feet tall, and dressed in a copper suit with red accents, Destiny was an intimidating figure. Like a devil, he wore a smile, but there was something demented in his eyes. His very presence gripped the room and held it tightly. The owners of the lounge rarely spoke to anyone for long, and it was unusual for them to seek someone out personally.

Not even the band could continue to play while Destiny stood on the dance floor, addressing someone so unremarkable.

“We should go somewhere more private,” the devil added.

Though copies were expressly illegal, it was thanks to the nature of the Roulette Lounge’s unique game that they were allowed to produce them. A copy could not live as a true being, and by law, had to be dismantled if found. Nevertheless, the Lounge created copies and housed them not as people but as entertainment. Each copy was made with the intention of eventual destruction.

Guests were allowed and encouraged to bid on which cell would be chosen each hour. Some visitors would go as far as requesting their copy to be added to the game for the sake of luck. Destiny took pleasured time explaining the nature of his game in great detail while he and Jabari found the platinum bar. Behind the wall of spirits, there was a hidden set of steps that led up to the next floor.

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“What was that a moment ago?” Jabari asked.

“Our daily roulette. Is this your first viewing?”

“That man, everyone watched him die.”

“You shouldn’t worry about the bodies. They are copies.”

“Copies?”

“Clones of our visitors. I have one of myself down there from time to time,” Destiny chuckled while the two entered a narrow hall.

There was so little space that Jabari couldn’t see beyond the copper devil’s body. Their walk was short, but further from the steps, all sound from the floors below became a muffled white noise.

“But they look so real,” the boy remarked.

“A copy, a clone, can never be as valuable as the original, but creating something distinctly similar is simple,” Destiny answered.

“Do they have no value? Does any life in this city have value?” Jabari questioned, but his voice was low, too quiet to hear.

So much of his day had been a bleeding mess. The apprentice thought he knew the world he lived in, but at every turn, it was as if he were experiencing reality for the first time. His infant shock was blatant to Destiny, but the devil ignored it.

Roulette Lounge was a thing of the past. Despite opening and closing multiple times, the establishment, said to have been around for over 200 years, had consistently made a comeback.

The entrance was guarded by men who appeared more like machines than humans, with a glass elevator that brought guests down from the street into the building. The nature of it resulted in a long line of people waiting for their chances to get in, since only five bodies could ride the box at a time. Wrapped around the brick building were all manner of delinquents and eloquent souls.

The lounge had but three requirements.

Only living beings were allowed as guests. Bots and other automatons were strictly forbidden. Enhancements and cybernetic limbs were fine, of course, but individuals who appeared far from organic were subject to screenings.

Engaging in fights or creating disturbances that would disrupt the peaceful atmosphere of the establishment was not allowed.

And finally, individuals had to be clothed. As time passed, the boundary of that rule became less distinct. In the past, both men and women were required to wear formal attire to enter, but some could only afford tattered clothes. Somewhere along the line, the lounge softened its standard to simply asking that genitals be covered. Had the rule not changed, their business would have suffered a dramatic cut in numbers. Thankfully, Jabari, shirtless and in thrifted shoes and shorts, was acceptable, at least.

When the apprentice was finally allowed to step onto the elevator, he and others riding with him were warned to avoid the dance floor if their weight exceeded 400 pounds. Before the boy could question why, the doors shut.

Descending into the earth, Jabari thought it was curious that no one had asked him to leave his tool belt outside. Most of his tools and gadgets had been snatched and stolen, but he had managed to keep a few simple instruments. Inside the glass box, he did his best not to stare at any of the other riders, but he struggled to keep his eyes straight. Behind him stood two gentlemen who were rough as a road and smelled just the same. In front of him were two women, clutching their coats shut as if showing their cleavage to the street rats was an indecency too harsh to stand.

As the box fell into the earth, light dimmed till only modest bulbs gave a glow enough to see. It took perhaps five minutes to come to a stop, at which point a silence fell. Jabari’s heart raced as he struggled to hear anything beyond his heartbeat, his breathing, and the scuff of his shoes on the floor. The darkness hid everything until the doors opened from behind and the light returned.

To the boy’s surprise, the women who had been standing in disgust had moved to hold the men at gunpoint. The street rats were frozen in fear with their hands up. Once the elevator doors were fully open, the women put away their weapons and made way for the men to scurry away. Jabari could only watch in confusion as the women followed. Had it not been for the lounge rules, there surely would have been bloodshed in that box.

The apprentice was so struck by the realization that he nearly forgot to exit the elevator himself.

Velvet rugs, dark woods, and extravagant light features. To the left was a collection of dazzling gambling tables. To the right was a bar and seating that spanned different elevated platforms placed to overlook the games. Though there were people of every bracket wandering the lounge, there remained division amongst them. The richer folk kept to their tables, and the less fortunate did the same.

The only place that saw a true mix was between the two spaces. The middling section where a live band was positioned to feed the room with ongoing soulful melodies attracted most bodies.

The dance floor.

There, Jabari found the lush flooring changed to thick glass. Through it, there was a clear view of individuals kept inside claustrophobic cells. The boy couldn’t understand why, but they appeared to be there by choice. Those prisoners, under the dancing steps of guests moving to somber tones, drank and danced as nonchalantly as the patrons watching them from above.

But when the song came to an end, when the music stopped, so too did their idle bliss.

Onlookers turned their eyes down below their feet to peer through the floor with anticipation. Those who were trapped in the glass boxes were, of course, far more stiff. Jabari had only begun to part his lips to question the atmosphere when suddenly a number was called. The corresponding prisoner’s cell turned demonic red. In a split second, the individual inside was torn apart by flames so powerful they could reduce metal and bone to liquid. Once all was consumed by fire, the band played a new tune.

The air took back its life. Prisoners and onlookers alike went back to their casual festivities.

Though the lounge was far more pristine than the city surrounding it, that place was a fit in its grotesque treatment of life.

“You must be Zero’s boy?” A voice spoke in greeting, quickly catching the attention of Jabari.

“What? Who?” He asked, turning to watch a man cut through the crowd to reach him.

“My name is Destiny. Your mentor told you to find me, yes?”

Standing nearly seven feet tall, and dressed in a silver suit with purple accents, Destiny was an intimidating figure. Like a devil, he wore a smile, but there was something demented in his eyes. His very presence gripped the room and held it tightly. The owners of the lounge rarely spoke to anyone for long, and it was unusual for them to seek someone out personally.

Not even the band could continue to play while Destiny stood on the dance floor, addressing someone so unremarkable.

“We should go somewhere more private,” the devil added.

Though copies were expressly illegal, it was thanks to the nature of the Roulette Lounge’s unique game that they were allowed to produce them. A copy could not live as a true being, and by law, had to be dismantled if found. Nevertheless, the Lounge created copies and housed them not as people but as entertainment. Each copy was made with the intention of eventual destruction.

Guests were allowed and encouraged to bid on which cell would be chosen each hour. Some visitors would go as far as requesting their copy to be added to the game for the sake of luck. Destiny took pleasured time explaining the nature of his game in great detail while he and Jabari found the platinum bar. Behind the wall of spirits, there was a hidden set of steps that led up to the next floor.

“What was that a moment ago?” Jabari asked.

“Our daily roulette. Is this your first viewing?”

“That man, everyone watched him die.”

“You shouldn’t worry about the bodies. They are copies.”

“Copies?”

“Clones of our visitors. I have one of myself down there from time to time,” Destiny chuckled while the two entered a narrow hall.

There was so little space that Jabari couldn’t see beyond the silver devil’s body. Their walk was short, but further from the steps, all sound from the floors below became a muffled white noise.

“But they look so real,” the boy remarked.

“A copy, a clone, can never be as valuable as the original, but creating something distinctly similar is simple,” Destiny answered.

“Do they have no value? Does any life in this city have value?” Jabari questioned, but his voice was low, too quiet to hear.

So much of his day had been a bleeding mess. The apprentice thought he knew the world he lived in, but at every turn, it was as if he were experiencing reality for the first time. His infant shock was blatant to Destiny, but the devil ignored it.