When gods are the foolish ones

They call us gods. We are no gods. If anything, we do hold the responsibility of the current situation. And the past. But we are blinded from the guilt by our shiny tower over the clouds. We were selfish and coward. We secluded ourselves away from the damage, we shut our eyes close and decided to ignore the rest of the world. Or what survived of it. And we’ve been ruling from up there. Living like royalty when the others are down here, providing us with vital supplies in exchange of leftover crumbs.

I’ve been trying to repay what I could. Night after night, I would climb down the sacred tower and sneak my way underground. I’ve heard the farther you go outward the tower base, the clearer it becomes. Life slowly makes its way overground. I heard nature is coming back. Trees and rivers, lakes. I can see them shining in the distance on clear days. Like droplets of diamond in the ether. Out of reach.

I just watch them from afar whenever I can master my time. I’ve never went far enough to see them on my little escapades. With only a few hours at night I can barely make it out of the 1st underground section and back. And there’s 18 left. With the richest by the tower foot and the poorest on the outer edge. And sneaking through security is so tedious and time consuming.

Every night for the last 6 years I’ve been exploring the 1st section, trying to go as far out as possible and, every night I would trade goods at the market and give away the cryptos I get, hiding the cryptocards in workers’ pockets. Those who come from farther out.

Tonight I have a set of computer chips, kitchen knives, Prada magnetic boots for monkey parkour, a handful of phone charges, a wrist unit with matching smart earrings and security nano cams from my quarter. They keep replacing the ones I find but no-one ever asked me what I’ve done with the busted others.

I’m sure Nonno Gum will be happy about the chips. And the cams for his shop. Nonno ‘cause he is old and Italian, and Gum cause he has no real teeth left in his mouth. His real name I don’t know. The same way he calls me Angie X, short for Unknown Angel.

Today, the market of unit LP14 smells of charcoaled cockroaches and rat stew, of pissy beer and rose-scented mould. They say the community quarter had gotten enough money to replace the old vents, but they’ve been saying that for like 14 months already and I think people would die of lung cancer before they actually do something about it. The air comes from our bath quarters, hence the smell of rose, and all the steam is evacuated right in the tunnels of section 1. With no opening to the outside other than the top of Olympia Tower, with his heavy high tech filtration system, we basically provide clean air for all the sections. Of course, we have the purest one and section 18 have whatever is left from it despite the continuous filtration and reoxygenation. The vent system is what keeps people alive. But with the recent inflation in crypto, all of the underworld has had a hard time paying for essential goods.

And because we are not directly affected, we don’t care. If people die, they will be replaced instantly. It’s a law of survival, the strongest feast on the weakest. And it is wicked. We’d be much stronger if we decided to work together. But wanting to change a 130-year-old system that had kept us alive after the Nearend is like trying to make a cake out of dirt.

As soon as I reach the market edge, the air becomes heavier, and the temperature rises dramatically because of all the steam, the street food trucks and the broken vent. I make sure my mask covers my nose.

“Ciao bella! Vieni vieni! I have just prepared il caffè. And Dio knows I can afford it because of you. Come, come, come. Mi dispiace Bianca, but I cannot take your necklace, you’d be better off trying to sell it in section 3 or even 4 for the price you ask.”

“But it’s too far, plus it’s real silver! I’m sure you can use it for chips or computer circuits!”

“Ho capito. Maaa I don’t need chips.”

“It’s vintage! From before the Nearend!”

I try to look over the young woman’s shoulder, but she is too tall for me to see.

“I’ll buy it.” I say.

“Certo che she does…”

Nonno Gum sighs and goes in the back while Bianca turns around slowly to face me. From behind I could only see her white wavy hair crowning her head, contrasting with her dark skin and hear her rich, low voice. She appears to have black almond eyes and a small mouth with full lips. High cheeks and a round nose pierced with a golden ring. In one hand, she is holding a type 5 filtration mask and the other remains on the countertop, where her necklace is. In the sudden silence I can hear the faint talking heads on the tv display.

“… the preselection is absolutely raging! This year lucky winners will not only live the rest of their life in luxury but might end up winning the lottery by being matched with the élu! Can you imagine having a child with Olympia’s heir?

-Haha Kay, just the idea of spending the night with an Olympian would make me die a happy man.

-Yes Dara, we all know who’s your little favourite… Safia, 3rd in line! She was spotted recently in Olympia’s most secured quarters. She is so natural! Is she going to set a new trend in Olympia?”

On the screen appears a photo of me, 2 weeks ago, coming out of the gym. My hair is still wet and wrapped loosely in a towel.

“Why would you…, you didn’t even see it. Okay, whatever I want 40XML. Stellar, preferably.”

“Okay.” I shift my attention back on Bianca. Good thing I have my mask and a wig on...

“50, I mean 50!” She exclaims realizing I’m an easy target. Or just dumb.

“Okay.”

I smile.

“100!”

“What about I give you 5?”

“5? That’s not even-“

“Hundred. I give you 5 hundred XML for you necklace, which is about-”

“Angie, smettila!”

Bianca looks at me with her jaw on the floor as Nonno Gum comes back with a little plastic tray and 3 small cups on it, his free hand making grand, annoyed gestures towards me.

“So, what do you say? Nonno, would you mind making the transaction for us, I’ll give you 5% commission, plus whatever you ask for my load today.”

“Angie managgia, you can’t go around throwing money like this… Oh Dio, my poor nerves… This kid mi ucciderà.”

“Why would you…?”

Bianca is now very much alert and what I wanted to be a kind gesture has become a blatant red flag, flashing among the bleak neons. Not my best move.

“Hahaha, she is some crazy woman, don’t mind her.”

Nonno Gum is trying to deflect the tension. Suspicion? I’m really acting out of character these days…

“Can you give me a price for this” I say. “Charge me the extra 500XLM on a separate cryptocard and take your 5% extra bonus as an early Christmas gift. You know what, make it 10%.” I say in a whisper, emptying my bag on the dirty counter while Bianca moves aside, suspicious. I might not get a chance to come back after the selection and I know Nonno has gotten used to the small life upgrade he has experienced since I first stepped in his shop 4 years ago. In a few days, grandpa will choose an heir. Then the selection begins, and I will have to spend all my time with the pre-selected winners, attend a lot of social events, streaming live non-stop and votes will be made to select the best suitor for me. After that, it’s a 15-year ride in the most prestigious hell of all, rising a kid before he, too, will spend 6 years until his 21st birthday secluded and observed. Groomed and tailored for his life mission. Carry on tradition and take over the power. The future CEO of our little society.

“Angie… Bella, non posso... 10%? If it were the other way round it would be called robbery! Dai, bevi il tuo caffè.”

I turn around and watch him proceed with the service. He gives me one of the small, chipped cups and do the same with Bianca.

“Oggi, caffè is on the house darling. You can thank her later.”

I take in his wrinkled face with his large nose, is golden and silver and God-knows-what-else teeth in his crooked smile. His smell of cheap cologne and cold tobacco. His white vest under his short-sleeve shirts, yellow from perspiration and overworn. In the last 4 years, he has become to me closer than my own family. I still wear late Donna Gum’s ruby ring. He gave it to me when she passed a few months ago, despite my protests. This ring has become my most valued possession. Because of my status, I never understood the true sense of family before meeting the Gum. And soon, I will have to say goodbye again. To perpetrate a century old tradition that keeps us living like gods among mortals and keep the system in place, no matter how wrong. We just don’t value life the way we should.

I wake up the next morning feeling bitter and fed up. The curtains automatically open in mechanic silence and the fogged, weak sunlight pours in. How can I still pretend to go on like this every day? Will I be able to raise a child in this world? Would I be happier to give it all up and live differently if I were given the chance? Maybe I should fake my own death and become Nonno’s apprentice or something. Sometimes, I regret believing in love.

“The air quality today, November 12th 8am, is at 315 and the temperature, 7 degrees Celsius. It is recommended to wear suitable protection if going on balcony expeditions. The sun room will be open until 9pm. Vanilla sunset will take place between 9 and 11pm. Today’s theme is late summer nig-“

I smash my hand on the clock and the automated voice falls back to silence. I stare at my ceiling in agony. I play mindlessly with the necklace I bought yesterday. A fine silver chain and a small, engraved heart locket. My grandfather has called an audience with me today. And audience… He wants to talk about the succession, or the selection. I take a long shower and get ready. I don’t think I can eat anything today, just thinking about it makes me sick.

“Your grandfather is waiting for you miss.”

I cross the richly decorated anti-chambre and the employee opens the heavy door leading to his office. I haven’t seen my grandfather in private for 6 years. Just when the observation phase started. During those years I have been living secluded from my family, as in line for the title, I needed to stay “pure and objective”.

“My darling grand-daughter, Safia. What a pleasure to see you.”

He is seated at the centre of the room. A large coffee table made from mahogany wood and ornated with fresh flowers separates me from him. As I walk around to take my place, I discover we are not in private. Someone is already seated to his left, hidden by the giant scented bouquet.

“May I introduce you to your future partner? As my heir, I cannot let this matter to luck. Also this is a lovely necklace you have, I remember giving it to Bianca’s mother some decades ago…”