UNTITLED: Book One

DAY 103

Born in the fire,

Grow,

Comfortable with the heat, but

Cold now,

Each step leaves frost beneath their feet,

In this world,

Still desperate for the warmth they need,

Now eyes down,

Dragging—unearthing roots and seed,

Blind now,

The fire is all they see

Drenched, with a datapad in hand, Solara walks directly out of her shower and into the bedroom. She grabs her only towel and decides to prioritize her hair with an awkward wrap around her braid -or… is her braid wrapped around the towel? Either way it’s pretty awkward. Ever since they escaped the city in the sky, she’s had the toughest time adjusting to ‘normal’ things and skills—“surface people shit,” as she calls it.

On top of being the two best products to ever come out of the factories, the factory they escaped was also the worst one—or best, depending on who you asked. The city in the sky. Their floating prison. How they pulled that escape off required a lot of fighting and a lot of luck. So much so, that Aiye still has his suspicions—Solara too, but in perfect Solara fashion, she could care less as long as she was out. Let whatever might come, come. She’ll handle it when it does.

Ultimately, it was a game of chicken to determine who were the real fools. Aiye and Solara, for thinking they can face whatever Solaris sends, or the company for thinking it could send enough.

Still, despite trying to escape the company, there was always that reluctant honor of being from the city in the sky that made this penthouse, they’ve holed up in, feel… primitive. Being on the highest floor of the tallest tower in this metropolis was nothing compared to the real thing. This was vanity, whereas the city, it was purpose.

The city in the sky was sacred to the people in it, and frankly, to the people below too. Mainly to the non-beneficiaries, but the feeling of honor was not missed by the beneficiaries—The New Wave—either. It just would’ve felt much more like an honor if they hadn’t had been lab-rat-slaves grown to be a personal army. You know. Had a choice and whatnot.

Now they find themselves still stuck in an emotional/mental cage, with their egos—their origins weighing them down. They’re constantly carrying their egos around, using those same painful origins as a pedestal. Nothing yet, of their own, to stand on. Yet, they’re still born into this new world standing on it all.

In fact, it was the sky factory where all the beneficiaries picked up the habit of referring to non-Old Guard and New Wave people and things as “surface”. Surface people doing surface things. The company certainly didn’t try to prevent such a divide either. They perpetuated it.

The best-of-the-best out of them were sent to the city in the sky to grow. Although it was never explicitly stated, it was pretty clear what was happening because they would ship out those whose performance dropped below a certain point, and then replace them with someone from one of the surface factories whose sustained performance had been excellent. They all got the picture pretty quickly and replacements became rare by the time they were 13. But it didn’t prevent the prejudice from spreading. The beneficiaries from the land factories leaned into the ‘surface’ euphemism the most, as if to say, “We may not be good enough to be in the sky, but were not as bad as them.”

Between the beneficiaries in the sky and beneficiaries on land, the divide was a crack slowly spreading across their foundation; an entire chasm already separated all beneficiaries from the surface people.

The only thing holding the beneficiaries together was their origins and their way—their flow—their language, because you couldn’t always depend on collective hatred, pride, or trauma:

{

Some beneficiaries were die-hard for the surface life; they embraced being “Birds” and couldn’t wait to fly south—an escape from strife. Sure, their ability was not as impressive. But most importantly, their character was in question. The others felt they were self-loathers, who loved each other being in a dated validation under surface cover. They failed at home but thrived amongst surface fodder. Aimed no higher—their desire, and everyone knew. Motivated by something other. Claiming the benefits under the guise of, “Surface Lover”. Dishonest. Dishonor, to these birds falling to the surface craving this honor.

Followed by the prideful ones. Preaching, “Love each other”. Screaming, “FIGHT THE POWER”. Being, anti-Warden. And whenever they try to fight their pain—for every victory they gain, they repeat the saying, “Freedom is the fight”. This reignites the flame of their heart. AND the strain of their light. Fist high, fighting the sky. So Sun-Child-solidarity leaves the intrepid desperate for love. Shielded by blood, until their vanity flows in vain—then it’s, “Intervene us!”... Ultimately, the most respected. Potentially, the greatest message. And typically, the most ability and likely to be the strongest protectors… if they weren’t so busy protecting the complex they’ve erected.

Then, you guessed it, save the last for the worst. Too afraid to fight. Their fears took their pride. Their pain hurt their hearts. Their hearts broke inside. Their hearts fell apart. Courted by Solaris, for peace is scattered in their mind. So, the company made them blind. The company made them ice. The company made their life. The company made their hearts beat. The company made their souls bleed. The company made their lungs breathe. The company made their eyes weep, then see. The company made their mouths scream, then sing. The company made their brains think—NOT dream. The company took their lives. The company took their lives. They took their lives! They gave the company their lives…

}

And to add to their collective pain, was the fact that all the beneficiaries ever had to entertain themselves were media and magazines from the surface: taking and mixing their speech patterns—and other influences—because they had no influences of their own, outside of the company that they hated so much. Being stuck between two unwanted options while being unwilling to make their own way created a growing resentment that took the form of petty elitism. Thus, the term “surface people shit”.

“Here, check this out.” Solara interrupts Aiye’s brooding by tossing a datapad on his lap.

Aiye, mumbling to himself, snaps out of his thoughts and looks down. A brow raised in confusion. He has his own already by his side? But at a second glance he realizes hers in a more consolidated version of whatever they discovered at the registrar. WHICH, is helpful since admittedly he hasn’t read shit yet. He just saw some things about how their bodies were made to be like this, a weapon, and blah blah.

He then looks up at her as if to ask the obvious, but smirks instead when he sees her standing in a puddle of water and her only towel wrapped just around her braid. A wrap threatening to unravel at any moment. Dropping the tablet on the pillow, he stands up off the bed and walks over to her.

Despite his impressive height, she’s a head taller than him. In fact, she’s a head taller than all of them—the others, that is. As tall as an Old Guard.

“Read the tablet!” Solara playfully jerks her head back, pretending to be repulsed by his new display of skill.

She continues, “What do you even know about this? And why?”

She looks down out his military buzz-cut fade. The standard factory issued cut for everyone. Solara was one of the three people, out of ALL the beneficiaries, strong enough to be allowed the ‘privilege’ of keeping their own personal hairstyle. It was a mark of honor. Aiye was the only one of the top three to keep their factory-issued cut—though his hair was slightly grown out more than the other beneficiaries.

He kept it because it just happened to work best for him, but the other beneficiaries always took it as a sign of his respect for them. They took pride in his choice even if they didn’t really like him. In reality though, Aiye simply couldn’t find another style that worked as well as the standard. Letting the others believe their version was his lazy way of doing his part in “the fight”.

Aiye chuckles and continues to fix her wrap, “I figured you’d need it. You refuse to learn about the surface world, so the duty falls to me to learn as much as possible for us. After we take down The Warden, we’ll need some surface skills after all.”

Solara rolls her eyes. “No, we will not. We’ve got bigger plans. Leave that to them.”

Aiye grins and shakes his head, “The strongest, and yet the people of the surface get under your skin the most out of all of us.”

“No,” She responds. “All we’re fed is a shitty ‘nutritionally balanced’ diet, violence, and surface shit. Packed together like animals. I’m sick of it. I just want to have something of my own while not being compared to weaklings. It’s that simple.”

“Yeah, I understand that, but why take it out on all of them. They’ve done nothing to you. They don’t even know you exist,” Aiye chuckles.

Solara yanks off her head wrap in frustration, “They might not know I exist, but they know WE do. They ignored us first! They’re all cowards. Fuck them all. If they ever fought for themselves, then we wouldn’t be some fucking child soldiers Aiye!” She throws the towel down at her feet and stands still, staring down in anger before meeting his eyes.

Aiye gives her a moment of silence. They meet eyes and hold each other’s gaze before he approaches closer to her. He places his hand gently on the nape of her neck and brings her forehead to rest on his.

“Hey. You know I was just teasing right? I don’t care that much about the surface, to be honest. Just wanted to give you a hard time. I admit that I also didn’t consider how much this subject meant to you. I should’ve. I’m sorry.”

“All good. I know.” Solara places a hand on his shoulder and sighs. Followed by an almost-release, but instead she cuts it short and speaks:

“In my eyes, I hold the weight of our destiny. The past, present, and the future—and passed the present future. All while your eyes scale in hope by balancing our dreams, weighing our options—I give you options to weigh. And every time the gravity of our situation threatens to make my mind lean, you quickly find enough weight to keep us from tipping over. I just -just…”

She huffs in frustration, “I don’t even know where I’m even going with this honestly. So I’ll just say thank you. For the facility. For joining me. Thank you… I just want to be-.”

“Free. I know.” Foreheads still together, he nudges his own gently into hers to let her know he’s here. “I got you.”

They stand there for another moment. Aiye then bends over to pick up the towel and puts it back on her. This time using it to cover her body. He looks at her again and chuckles. Hoping to lighten the mood. Solara stares back, trying to hold on to her stress, but she can’t. Not when he brings the calm she so desperately needs. Her frustration disappears and she matches his energy with a chuckle of her own. She playfully punches him in the chest and pushes him away as he mimes surrender.

“Hey! That’s my mov-,” Solara stops short. Sensing another presence, her attention turns towards the man leaning on the door frame. The Broker.

He speaks in a patronizing dreamy tone, “Ah, to be young again… But, I suppose I did not argue with my peers as much as the two of you—or kill as much either, surprisingly. But young love is the most valuable love. Truly.”

Solara sneers, “What do you want?”

He stands upright and enters the room, heading straight to the edge of the bed to sit down, “I am simply observing how fire and earth communicate.” He studies Aiye for a moment, “…Or fire and wind. Or…hmm. It is hard to really say when it comes to you.”

“Huh?” Solara says, annoyed.

“Did you not understand me? That is surprising. I thought your kind spoke in poetry and metaphors?” He responds dryly.

“I get your meaning, I’m just confused as to why the fuck you’re here. My first question.”

“What. In my home you mean? I live here and you are the guests. And your first question was about what I want.”

She rolls her eyes and tightens her jaw, “It’s ours now. Your goons shouldn’t have challenged us. It should’ve been obvious what we are. So now, you’ve claimed this domain, and we’ve claimed all your shit.”

“Quite. I do remember the terms, and how much I have lost. If only I had realized sooner that the threat against my… domain, was one of your kind and not the usual suspects. As for those particular employees-”

“-Goons,” she growls.

“…They have been let go.”

“What does that mean?”

“Released from employment. Although I empathize with their reasons for fearing you both, it turns out they were already moving to betray us even before this. Their purpose was to create chaos for us, and that they did. Soo, I had them held over the tallest building… and let go.”

Aiye interjects, “Long journey. But isn’t this the tallest building in the city?”

“Ever the observant one I see. And yes, if you go down to the alley on the eastward facing side, you may still find evidence that they arrived at their new destination.”

Aiye chuckles, but Solara is still unamused. She continues, “What. Do. You want?”

The Broker replies, “I want you to leave my home, obviously, you foolish girl. But considering that will not be happening any time soon, and that my life hangs by a thread at your whim, for now I would like to at least know what I am getting myself into so that I can actually protect the rest of my people. The Old Guard might look brutish, but they have always carried themselves with a certain decorum, whereas your… New Wave, is quite the opposite. I am not looking to die a horrible death whilst trying to keep up with young, genetically modified, supercharged egomaniacs. If that is the case then you might as well kill me now.”

“Gladly.” Solara retorts and begins to walk towards him before Aiye pulls her back.

Aiye sighs, “Sol, chill. Give him a break. He’s right. We’re in his home.”

“Yes, Solara. Please do.” Broker mocks.

Aiye points at him, “You chill too. We’ll be out of your life soon enough. I’m sorry, but we need your services real quick, is all. Plus, you have all this wealth with absolutely no reasonable explanation behind how you got it. Couple that with the not-goons and the way other surface dwellers act around you, it makes me think you don’t do anything good. Which means people would probably be thankful if something happened to you, so let’s at least work together.”

“You are correct, but unaware in what manner you are correct. Regardless, very well. From the little I do know, it seems our interests currently align… You know, my father and mother were some of the few non-Old Guard that fought in, and survived the Dark War. What I have today is thanks to them. The skills they learned, while serving alongside the Old Guard, were invaluable in helping them carve out their own little piece of the chaos that followed post-war. And chaos it was. A dark era of our own. Nonetheless, skills and knowledge they passed down to me. This, is that, plus the extra that I was able to learn after taking over the family business and grow it to these heights. I simply continued their legacy, with honor. This is their kingdom. So I ask that you show it some respect.”

Solara snaps, “Don’t you sell weapons and information to the colonies? And who knows what’s else? Maybe even the Dark State! What honor?”

“I sell many things, yes. Anything of value really. I am called The Broker after all. The times were chaotic then, and have yet to stop being so. One must grow with the times to stay ahead of the tide. There are a lot of mouths to feed. Interesting though, I did not take you for the patriotic type?”

“Of course I’m not. I barely just learned what that word even means. My problem is with cowards, and will always be. You’re born with everything you need down here. And yet you live in a tower of abundance by choice, trying to play king of the surface people. While we AND the Old Guard keep you all safe. And you’ve got no worries whatsoever. All you surface people living well and yet you feel the need to trade with the enemy and complain.”

“ *mumbles* So that is what they teach you… Anyways, they are our allies? I have done no wrong.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I do not think you know what you mean young Solara. What abundance? Are you blind? You know, it is interesting to me that after your so-called ‘daring’ escape from your other-worldly floating castle, you find yourselves choosing to stay in my tower of ‘abundance’. The irony is not missed… I get that you have left your home for the first time in your life, but abundance? Is that really what you are taught about us? You could have simply looked at us and realized that was a lie. How have you managed to live under a rock when you live in the sky? Abundance you say... If that is the case, my dear murderous youth from the heavens, you know nothing of the ‘surface’—as you so rudely like to refer to us.”

“No! We know you are given food, homes, jobs, and fight for nothing. That you’re complaisant cowards, who leave the fights to children and the elderly. Choosing ignorance instead. Egos fattened with a wealth of resources-“

His tone ice now as tensions rise, “And yours fattened with a steady diet of super serums and propaganda, you complacent fool. I repeat, you. Know. Nothing. You lived in the most advance place in the world—in existence most likely, and still ran away. I assume that your Protector insisted that you and your peers also had everything you needed?”

This shuts Solara up. A hard truth delivered to her by this weak little man who definitely did not have their best interest. She grits her teeth and looks away. Her rage rising, threatening to boil over if she has to continue listening to him.

Solara was straightforward in everything she did. She had no problem with weaker foes wanting to test themselves against her. It’s the only way to improve after all, and she was a strong believer in that. She didn’t mind shit talking during a fight, if that was meant to be part of the fight. But she didn’t consider this much of a fight. It was a verbal joust and she hated those when things could easily be settled with fists. Just the idea of having someone so much weaker than her, attack her in this way, was enough to drive her crazy. He defined his bravado with his wit because he knew he couldn’t hang with her in a fight, nor would he be willing to even if the situation demanded it. And he chose this moment to get testy, he felt he had security to back him. A coward through-and-through.

The Broker continues in response to her silence, “Exactly… However, I admit that it is wrong of us to let children fight battles, but our battles are down here. It is us versus every new day that comes around—not some fabricated war. My parents died wrinkled and physically weak. The wounds they suffered from the war and the post-war chaos eventually caught up to them. Meanwhile, the most senior of their Old Guard comrades look like they are in their mid-40s and can move like they are in their late 30s still. If you both feel that you do not have enough, consider that we do not have even half of what you do. We are prisoners of this war and The Warden. The people fear him too and will do anything to survive. Cowardly? Yes, many are, but you may find it challenging to distinguish yourself from the cowards down here, or anyone here for that matter, if your frustration with the status quo is your biggest differentiator.”

Aiye, always the curious one of the two, takes this opportunity to gather information about the surface life. “What about the 100% employment rate?”

“Assigned to us at age 18, just like you, and it is based on what one’s presumed potential at the time—no exceptions, or career changes, regardless of what happens. Your graduates, ‘Birds’ I believe you call them, are given leadership roles amongst our workforce after they depart their factory and we have to work twice as hard to make up for their lack of knowledge—and occasional moods.”

Close enough. He knows a lot about us, Aiye thinks. The birds are actually the 17 year olds, like he and Solara, that are a month, or less, away from their 18th birthday. Ready for release—their own being only three days away now. Bird years aren’t actually years, just weeks. Still, it’s impressive he even knew about that. That information wasn’t anything official. It’s not even a formal name, so he would’ve had to have been told that information personally by one of the other New Wave.

“Food?” Aiye continues.

“Everyone eats, yes. Nutritionally adequate, pre-planned meals. We have been receiving regular shipments from all the colonies, for the last 50 years, as payment for our people’s contribution to the war…and request for autonomy. Most meals are quite bland and depressing, but I personally have always enjoyed the protein meal. Still, it is nothing like the delicacies some of us have the luxury of consuming on occasion. That luxury being the food that is allocated to you all. I am able to secure something extra from time to time, however, even I must eat the pre-planned meals for most of the year because all of our arable land was destroyed during the war. And we cannot own any arable land by law, under the guise of sacrificing for the greater good of the people. The land is what, 75% healed now, I believe? And Solaris control it all. Regardless, we continue receiving regular food shipments, albeit less each year, and with more politics. Any food, that is not used to feed all of you, is stored for emergencies now.”

“We did learn about the land getting destroyed but the rest is news to me. And less and less each years, that’s tough. So Broker, are we the first of the New Wave that you’ve encountered, personally?”

The Broker stays silent for a moment. His mood was more engaging just a moment ago, but this question somehow ended that.

“New Wave. This is the batch that was supposedly done ‘right’. Recently released into the workforce in the last several years, if my information is accurate. But you know, there were many more iterations of your kind these past decades.”

Solara breaks her silence and impatiently, “Of course we know that and we don’t care. Just answer his questions.”

The Broker continues, “The answer is yes. Yes, I have encountered your kind before, and it took upwards of 50 good men and women to bring them down. A lot was lost that day… It was one of our worst tragedies, if not the worst. I do not ever wish to experience that again.”

Solara, sensing an opportunity to get back at him for his earlier victory in their verbal fight, decides to poke at him. “I bet you wouldn’t. Serves you right for trying to fuck with one of us.”

He looks at her and shakes his head and sighs. “You are exhausting, child.”

Solara ignores him and continues, “Although, only 50? That doesn’t seem like much at all. Must’ve been a surface lover if they could only take 50.”

The man’s calm demeanor finally fades as he angrily replies, “They were my BEST. My absolute best. Warriors. Lovers. My FAMILY. I spent the last two decades watching my family grow and it only took one encounter, ONE DAY, with your kind for it all to be torn away from me. So violently… They are gone! All of them! All because one of you decided one day they felt like violence. Just like YOU.”

At that, he points at Solara as he steps to her. Despite being one of the taller surface people they’ve encountered—like the Warden—he’s still about two heads shorter than her. Aiye preemptively holds her, tightening his grip on her arm as the man approaches her. But she doesn’t budge. Instead she has a condescending grin across her face, satisfied with her victory from playing the same weak little game of the weak little man. For Solara defeats all her challengers.

The man takes a moment to calm himself. He backs away. A breath. A release, then he continues, “Your New Wave only recently entered our world and my first personal encounter with one of you was devastating. Everyone either remembers or heard of the tragedy. My family was taken. And with you here now, my home. My organization only recently healed, and these days it is only a shell of its former self. Otherwise, I would have fought you two to the death to protect my family a thousand times—despite the odds.”

“Some good that did you the first time,” Solara chuckles.

She always goes for the kill. Her definition of the end of a fight was if one of them, her or her opponent, can never get back up again. The very reason one should never seriously challenge her if they weren’t willing to take it all the way.

“Sol! Enough! Read the fucking room,” Aiye shouts to her face. He turns back to the man, “Please, go on.”

The man observes them both for a moment, with extra attention on Solara. His expression unreadable at the moment. “Thank you. But, I was more or less finished. I was bored with life after my loss. I would have fought the two of you just for the hell of it—out of spite alone, but it was very clear it would have been a slaughter. You two seem… different. Similar impetus, yet very different.”

“Because we are the ABSOLUTE fucking best,” Solara says beaming a smug grin across her face.

Aiye clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes as he give her arm a squeeze, pulling her to his side. He continues damage control, “It is though, I guess.” He casually shrugs, speaking to The Broker. “Out of all the others, we are ‘ranked’ in the top three. You can tell because we aren’t bald like the others.” He points to his own hair.

Solara removes her arm from Aiye’s grip and then gives his hair a sideways look, “We, huh?”

The Broker ignores her and replies to Aiye, “Ah. That explains the one girl from the other day. If you are ranked, then I assume she is the strongest, followed by Solara and then yourself? Since she was called ‘No.1’ after all.”

Aiye stays quiet and glances over in Solara’s direction, knowing what was about to come next.

She stares at the man, awestruck for a moment, before she breaks out into an obnoxious booming laugh, “WHAT? HER? ARE YOU KIDDING? I’M the strongest. THEN Aiye. LAST, that fool.”

Aiye shrugs again, “Also true. But what do you mean by ‘the other day’?… Did you meet with her? Did you report us, Broker? Is that why you’ve been so calm, because you’re stalling?”

The Broker calmly holds a hand up to them as they both lean toward him. “She seems loyal to Solaris so I do not think I would even be allowed to live after reporting you. That would only be a final option. I am calm because I face danger quite often, more than you think, and I understand the risk and reward of my current situation. As for the girl, I saw her give a- hm… rather moving speech at the 50th annual war memorial, on Isi-Iyi. She basically declared war on the colonies AND the Dark State. The Warden introduced her as ‘No.1’, leader of The Five. The strongest five members of The Protectorate—the new name for the New Wave.”

The Broker takes in their shocked and confused looks as he dumps them with information they are clearly learning for the first time. Where have these children been? He wonders, realizing that before they tell him their strategy, they need to learn more about how the surface works and current events. The wisest thing for him to do now is it use these next few days to bring the both of them up to speed.

These two need him more than he previously assumed, and that’s good for business. Great for it.

He continues, leaning back with a grin, “Well then… You are going to want to hear this.”

The thunderous drum strikes once…