The pipe was cold. Did they turn off the hot water again? A ragged beggar slowly sat up on his mat. The smoke on the floor was thicker and heavier than usual. Before, his features partially melted into it and he was almost invisible in his small hovel under the pipe, but now, as he switched positions, his face became more discernible.

Drinking had colored his pale white skin into a red tone and, as he reached for his bottle of alcohol diluted with water, his bony wrists became visible.

The beggar looked for a long moment at the bottle and at the murky liquid inside. Why did he drink? Deep in thought, he stared at the bottle. The tunnel he slept in wasn’t deserted. Occasionally, normal people passed by.

The beggar shifted his gaze to them. Hurrying somewhere... After a few minutes of clear thought, he felt a sense of nausea invade him. Looking back at the bottle, he opened it, put it to his mouth, and gulped some of the drink down. His expression didn’t change. His eyes moved back to the passersby. Some of them glanced at him, but quickly looked away. He was at the bottom of society. The beggar took another gulp.

After a few moments of continuing to look at people, he stood up. His head hurt. He took out a metallic cup, carefully hid his bottle in his hovel’s special place, and slowly stumbled out, spitting on the ground a few times to disperse the smell of alcohol coming from his mouth. His expression was dead and spiritless.

The open space was full of life and activity. According to game theory, shops selling similar objects tend to gather in clusters, and this circle was a good example of this. Generally, the shops here sold clothing and small trinkets, mostly simple jewelry.

The market was spiral in shape, twisted clockwise, with only one entrance and exit. The ceiling was curved, covered in a pure white mosaic, with a circle of muted red stones in the middle. Almost none of the underground dwellers had ever seen the sun, and probably wouldn’t in their lifetime, so they didn’t care about its real color. The mosaic was there to remind citizens of the world that waited for them above the ground.

In the center of the spiral was the temple. The design of the place was beautiful, in a sense. But the tunnel dwellers would never admit this. They would say that it was well-planned, to maximize the space for shop-owners to sell their wares. Were there more ways to increase the area for potential stands? What is the optimal way to cover a circle with lines, minimizing the cost? We will think on this later.

The beggar slowly walked towards the center. His eyes darted around, looking at the objects on display, and checking if he could steal anything to sell later and buy more alcohol. It wasn’t hard to disappear into the crowd, but many of the shop owners knew him, and were wary. Their cruel gazes were something the beggar was used to.

Occasionally shoving a few people to the side, he entered the open space in the middle, and, leaning on the metallic bars of the gate that surrounded the temple, he stopped, thrusting his cup out. The black smoke around him was so thick that everything below his knees was invisible. An indicator of divine presence…

As he did this, he felt a sense of dirty shame invade him. What did these people think, as they glanced at him in his misery? Did his son, who ran away after a harsh beating of his, still remember him? What would he do if he saw him like this? Would he spit on him? This quick flutter of emotion disappeared as he remembered the bottle he had hidden.

After this, his face once again became expressionless, his mouth tightly shut to not let the smell of alcohol out, and he stared at the changing crowd and at the people entering and exiting the temple, occasionally murmuring a few pitiful words to attract attention. Who was better dressed? Who was more susceptible to his begging?

The beggar’s eyes focused on a pair of tall children. Both of them were very thin. Useless to rob or beg at. Would they hold value as hostages? Probably not. And he wasn’t ready for the hassle. Their expressions were animated and full of life. They were probably there to fulfill the weekly quota for visiting the temple. He had never been happy. His parents never cared about him, and he was always hungry. The only times he remembered being close to that emotion was in deep childhood, when he dug around the tunnels with the other children… There was also the feeling of power he got when he hit his son and wife. Yes… it was great to feel like he was the one in charge, the way they cried and hid away... What had Ru ever done for him? The beggar hoped, for a moment, that these happy children would become like him, useless and miserable, with no one to rely on. Alcohol… He imagined the burn. Ah, if only the water that dripped from the pipes he slept under were alcohol. How much better his life would be. He wouldn’t have to beg then.

The children entered the open gate, and approached the woman sitting behind a glass window. Youth had left her; and her mouth was surround by frown lines, giving her face a perpetually unsatisfied expression; her stupid, glassy eyes held a malicious glint. She was dressed in black; her head was covered by a scarf, intricately decorated by a complicated pattern of white string. The pattern formed words of the easily recognizable Quf script, the language of the Jrulan. As they waited for her to react to their presence, Max peered at the scarf. He knew a few of the characters.

The enclosed area was sparsely populated, and the people that they saw were calm and composed. It was late, and the day had been long.

‘Names and identification’

They took out their identification slips and slid them over the counter. Her expression was bored and lifeless, similar to the beggar’s. She took the two engraved metal pieces. Her silence created a tension in the air.

Behind the glass, she shifted, adjusting her spectacles, took out a stack of papers, and quickly started paging through them, finding the boys’ attendance cards. She opened her ink bottle, and the air filled with a slight scent of mold. Dipping her pen, she carefully traced out their identity numbers in the attendance binder, not daring to make a mistake in the series of twenty numbers, marked the time, and made another mark on their attendance cards. The whole process was strangely similar to buying a train ticket.

‘Go on, children, pray well’, she muttered the customary phrase that she was obligated to pronounce.

‘We aren’t children !’ Max turned to Karl. ‘What an old hag. Let’s hurry.’

The two boys approached the entrance to the Temple, a hole in the ground going deep into the earth. It was difficult for engineers to plan these temples. They had to ensure these underground caves didn’t interfere with the floors below and destabilize everything. But that was their god’s desire, so it must be done. Thinking more on it, maybe it wasn’t that difficult, as each new floor was almost a copy of the previous one, except for small variations in style.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The wide staircase, arranged in a counterclockwise spiral, glowed a flickering red. It was probably some clever fluorescent lighting. Ru spend the majority of his time in his Laboratory or his Forge, both of which were illuminated with fires, and, of course, this must be shown in his Temple.

The technology of the underground people hadn’t progressed as far as LEDs, which were more energy-efficient compared to fluorescent lights, but it was in development. Actually, LED lights had already been invented, but they wouldn’t be in circulation for many years. Generally speaking, the problem of the Free Union was the economy. The corrupted power structure… Let us discuss this some other day.

The walls of the huge cylinder in the center of the spiral were covered with almost identical masks with various expressions. These masks were meant to depict the great souls of previous generations. The masks had slits for eyes; the lighting of the staircase was positioned behind them. Some of the slits flickered with various shades of red. Some were dark. Probably their lights were dead, with no one caring to replace them. The masks were behind a layer of glass; a dirty thief might decide to take one as a memento.

The stairs were intended for two people to walk side by side, so the two childhood friends had to occasionally stop to let some people through. Richer floors had escalators instead.

After arriving in the underground cave, they passed through another registration, and then separated, Max going to the library, and Karl to the prayer-room.

________________

Now, let us glance through the stone walls of the center of the stairway. They are thick enough to provide good sound isolation, but they lack an integrated heating system. It is cold. There is a narrow room near the top, close to the Temple’s entrance, with someone inside.

The room is calm but somehow ominous. Is there something wrong with the ventilation? The woman shifts in brief discomfort, and her slender silhouette slightly moves, casting her face into the wobbling light. She is dressed in neat and simple attire. The most notable part of her is her dark armband, which is covered with red and black eyes of different shapes and sizes. This is a part of standard Temple attire, meant to show that God is always watching his children. Her mouth has a barely perceivable cruel twist to it. She is young, not much older than twenty four or twenty five. Her armband places her in the upper half of the Temple priests.

The woman is waiting for someone, lost in her thoughts. It must have been the recent composition that had fascinated her. A creation of one of the new talented employees. How did it go? ‘I walk the earth and see the sky…’ The was something about it which touched her to the soul.

Perhaps the employee would have a future in the military. He certainly had the correct disposition. Maybe she should include his works in her readings to the public, if she’s allowed to, of course. She takes a deep, satisfied breath, feeling the air. She liked preaching.

The smell of the room was peaceful, aromatic even, with many flickering oil lamps creating a soft reddish glow that leaked out through the cracks on the walls, giving the masks on the other side their characteristic eye-features. It was as silent as a graveyard. Really, what was causing the unsettling feeling that made her palms tremble? The woman inhaled again. Was there a slight scent of metal in the air?

Her eyes strayed to a small painting standing on the desk she was leaning against. Paintings were something she saw only in places like this. She reached for it, her hands hidden behind standard-issue black gloves. It was a simple motif of a man and a woman kissing with the setting sun behind them. The sun was yellow. The yellow was mixed with oranges, and the sky was pink. Fascinating.

As she stood there, two men came in. Both of them were of similar height and of a similar build, with warm brown eyes and armbands similar to hers, with a few minor differences, one was the boss, the other the sidekick. The boss was old but the sidekick was still young: his eyes were blazing and his movements were filled with energy. The sidekick stopped near the entrance.

The older man, the one in charge, came up to one of the armchairs and sat down, beckoning the pair. The woman and the younger man came closer to him and stood across from him, their bearing relaxed and natural. The superior opened up the suitcase he carried, sat it on his lap, and took out a file, handing out copies of it.

The corners of his mouth went up, flooding his face with genial warmth.‘My dearest brother and sister, congratulations on your promotion! Your files speak very highly of you. So I would like to see how you reason, you may consider this a sort of test, if you’d like. An old man’s little joyous pastime. Now, read the file and tell me what you think.’ They accepted the documents eagerly.

The old man carefully observed the facial expressions of the pair. Watching emotions flicker on people’s faces and identifying them was one of his favorite activities. He got the opportunity to do that often, given the nature of his occupation.

The female’s face was attentive and calm, how boring. She was completely engrossed in the reading of the file, her eyes concentrated and analytical.

The male’s expression pleased him more than the female one. His warm eyes had tightened and his face was flooded with anger and disgust. Ah, the interesting emotions that the grandfather got to witness! We can only envy him.

A few minutes passed. Both of them finished reading. The young man spoke up first.

‘This Moritz… To write about Leader Ved like that,having such a good education…This individual has been trying to subvert our state.How dare he! The rotten bastard! His damned hands would serve better in a penal colony. Put him there for a year or two!’

Ah, this youngster was full of energy. The grandfather smiled fondly.

The boy, agitated from his tirade,finally regained some of his rationality.

‘But no, that’s a bit too harsh, maybe just warn him for now?We must also put his education to use, for example by forcing him to transcribe a few holy texts into Zarul, or putting him in the research department. Perhaps he will understand Ru better then.’

‘Mari, and you?’ The old man’s eyes turned to her. Her calm and concentrated posture shifted, the change almost imperceptible.

‘It’s obvious. I’m not sure why Johann is so irrational. Isn’t our goal to control the population? Take him away, make him publicly apo­logize and force him to write a few works praising our glorious leader. Then work him to death in the mines. At least then he will contribute to society.’ Her mouth twisted slightly, giving her face a cruel light. ‘But isn’t this just standard procedure?’

The old man smiled kindly. His eyes had become slightly cold, though. ‘Yes. Thank you, dearest. Now return to your duties, Mari, Johann. It was interesting hearing your opinions. Don’t worry, Johann, we will deal with Mr. Moritz in a humane way. Oh, and also, please call my secretary for me on the way back.’

Mari was proud of her performance. Soon she might be sitting on that armchair. She suddenly wished for it fervently. To be a vital influence on many people’s lives… She took in a long breath of air to calm her giddiness.

But where was the metallic smell coming from? It made her recall her childhood days. She frowned at the disgusting thought, looking down. Ah. There were a few small bloodstains on the carpet. Fascinating.

She made her way to the prayer-room, where she was supposed to read out passages from the Jrulan and other works, carefully observing the people’s reactions to them.

After they had left, the old man reached for his suitcase again and took out a pipe, lighting it with a click. The worn suitcase had many files. He glanced towards the desk absentmindedly. It was now occupied.

‘Secretary, put off Mari Ziegler from the promotion list’ He puffed out a ring of smoke. ‘We don’t need too many intelligent people in our ranks.’

‘Ah, and clean those bloodstains, they’re irritating me.’

The old man let out another puff of smoke and started carefully paging through the files in his suitcase. His gentle expression had turned cold and calculating; his eyes were now filled with malicious cunning.