by M. T. Miller
Not giving him a chance to think about the implications, she came up to his right ear and started whispering. “If I were you, I’d think long and hard about how they even knew where to look in the first place.” Having said that, she rose, turned around, and disappeared the same way she’d come in.
The Nameless couldn’t think anymore. He wanted to analyze everything, both what she said and what she didn’t. But neither his mind nor his body worked anymore. Again, the Nameless let his gaze fall down on the gun, then rise up to the bed. There was no other way. With both of his hands he grabbed the heavy thing, lifted it up just barely, and rotated his torso to his right.
Now looking directly into the old man’s eyes, the Nameless let his arms rest on the bed, the revolver a mere inch away from his victim’s face. He noticed the resemblance then. The man was definitely the girl’s father. He still refuses to stop staring.
“Sorry,” the Nameless tried to say before pulling the trigger, but all that came out was an indecipherable mumble.
Chapter Four
To say that the Nameless’ pace was hurried would be an understatement. Back at the top of his form, he relished the chance to push his body forward almost as much as he hated being in that place.
With his senses functioning properly again (including the regrown eye), there was no filter to protect him from the crushing despair present in the slums of Babylon. The soulless, raggedly clothed people. The decomposing eyesore of the place’s architecture, if one could even call it that. The stale, stinking air that he was forced to inhale merely because there was no alternative. It all worked together to produce the least bearable experience he could imagine. Not counting the ordeal he had just endured, of course.
As if outright murder wasn’t enough, he had also raided the cabinet in the old man’s room, helping himself to some clothing his victim would obviously never need again. After all, I could not move around in those bloody rags. However, the place had no running water, so cleaning himself proved far more challenging. Eventually, he had to settle for rubbing his face and neck with some hooch he found by the bed, covering up everything else, and calling the bath a success. The end result was not all that bad, although it itched horribly.
He had not found a good replacement for his trench coat and boots, so he had to make do with the old ones. Luckily, a patch of wet, disgusting muck that he found near the girl’s house proved more than capable of covering all the blood on them, and even overpowered the aroma. Best of all, he didn’t stick out all that much among the natives anymore. No one had given him as much as a second glance since he fled the scene of his crime, and he hoped that the guards would show him the same courtesy. That reminds me—why is the ground floor almost completely devoid of guards?
Too much else had been on his mind to think about it before, but it was definitely peculiar. Is this place left to police itself? Stew in its own juices? After his experience with but one of the local gangs, he found the idea horrifying.
The Nameless was just about to make the capital mistake of allowing himself to think about the girl back there. Luckily, the sight of the overweight gate man’s desk in the distance gave him an excuse to shove that memory deep into his subconscious, where he hoped it would enjoy the accommodations. It would most certainly not be lonely.
“Hah! You surprised me! The way you dragged your ass into the meat grinder out there, I was sure you’d last about as long as a Church Minister in Voodoo territory!” The fat man snorted as he spoke. “Well, here’s your ID, Mr. Bones, as well as your level one pass! Thank you for placing your trust with us, and it’s been a pleasure!” He pointed toward the edge of his table, where a pair of card-like things waited for the Nameless to pick them up. They were similar to the credit chips he had lost, and the memory infuriated him. He pocketed them quickly, to remove them from his sight.
“Why aren’t there any more guards positioned around this place?” the Nameless said. “Crimes of all sorts fester within, and the people suffer greatly.”
“And where, pray tell, do we get enough men who are crazy enough to do that? The ground floor isn’t exactly small, y’know?”
“You seem to have enough to protect yourself, right there,” the Nameless quipped.
“Hah! I like you, Mr. Bones. I enjoy your style, what little I’ve seen. But be honest with me: you didn’t read the leaflet, did you?”
“I was busy getting robbed, so no, I did not read your leaflet.”
“And just take a look at what it’s done for your complexion!” the clerk grinned. “Maybe I ought to get the same brand of mugging you did! Hey, hey, you ought to star in a commercial! Too bad we don’t have a ‘before’ image, though, since you flew by so goddamn fast!” He kept yammering and yammering, and the Nameless regretted having mentioned anything.
“This is all beyond interesting, but I need to be on my way,” he said, just when the fat man was starting to experiment with brand names for his hypothetical robbing service.
“Yeah? Well, best of luck to you, then, if I hadn’t said so already!” The clerk said, just when the Nameless was about to turn around. “But seriously, mugging or not, I’d hold on to every last shred of cash I had left if I was you. Life can be good here, or it can be a goddamn nightmare.” He took another colored piece of paper, and lifted it up in front of the Nameless’ face. “Take another one. Learn the ropes. Don’t end up like those losers out there.”
Without a word, the Nameless took the leaflet and started walking away. The ground floor was huge, and he had a good deal of walking before he would reach the large pillar. I might as well give this a look.
As he walked, he held the leaflet up with his left hand, while his right one found its way to the handle of his revolver. If anyone was crazy enough to attack him in the mood he was in, they would pay dearly.
He remembered the native girl then, and the way she knew exactly what to say to him. Who is she, and what does she know? The extent of his lack of knowledge on the matter was outright mocking. The next time he saw her, he would have a whole lot of questions. And I will make sure to ask them as persuasively as possible.
Welcome to Babylon! he read, to get his mind off everything. For the time being, it appeared to work. Currency and you! the subhead said, followed by details about conversion rates and the relative values of different chips, ranked by color.
Well, I know for a fact that money will not be a problem, he thought. Given that I have none anymore.
Purchasing a pass grants you the most basic accommodations at its respective level, he read ahead, having skipped the meat of the ‘Currency’ chapter. This includes a single-room apartment, bathroom included, for as long as your pass is valid. A pass is only necessary to ride the lift up. Everyone is always free to go down.
He lifted his gaze from the leaflet, taking a cautionary look around. So, I can choose to come back here before they decide to kick me out for lack of money? Considerate of them.
Having made certain there were no immediate threats, the Nameless turned back to the leaflet. There was not much else, aside from the conclusion. The higher you manage to ascend, the more enjoyable your life in Babylon will be! Please, take care of yourself. Signed, the Management.
At least now I know who I need to talk to. He crumpled the note, initially wanting to throw it away. Then, he remembered the part about credit chips, so he put it into one of his inner pockets instead. Who knows? Perhaps I might actually earn something up there.
The rest of the walk was uneventful. From afar he could not tell, but upon closer inspection it was evident that the pillar was positively brimming with guards. Several pairs of firm-looking doors stuck out all around the thing’s base, and several layers of spiked barricades surrounded the whole area.
“You there!” one of the guards shouted. “Either present your ID and pass, or turn around and walk right back where you came from!” The guns around him cocked, adding more weight to his argument.
“A moment!” the Nameless
said, burying his hand into the appropriate pocket as he let go of the gun. Slowly, he pulled both documents out, and held them up for the men to see. “I have both! Now, how do I get up to the second floor?”
“Proceed, citizen, but slowly!” the same guard said. “You will place the cards onto the table to your right, and we will take it from there!”
Having taken his chance to inspect every single rifle while the other man was talking, the Nameless moved forward. As he walked, he wondered how it felt to fire such a piece of weaponry. I reckon that, for now, the experience will have to wait. Upon reaching the aforementioned desk, he let the ID and pass drop to its surface.
“Can you tell me who built this place?” he asked.
“Who knows?” the guard sitting by the table said, in between bites from a sandwich.
“No one, apparently,” said the Nameless, disappointed.
“And life goes on. These appear to be in order,” the guard said. Like the one at the entrance, he wore no uniform. “You may reclaim your documents, Mr. Bones, and congratulations on making it to the second floor. Please proceed toward door five.”
They are not going to frisk me? the Nameless thought, having already prepared for the procedure. So, that woman planned around this when she returned my revolver. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he grabbed his ID and pass and put them back in their place as he started toward the marked pair of doors. The rest of the guards let him through with no hassle, and he noted a distinct lack of resentment in their eyes. Funny what a little piece of paper can do.
As he approached, the guard to the right pressed a glowing red circle on the pillar, and, with a little rumbling and scraping, the passage opened up. Some kind of internal mechanism had pulled the doors aside, and he was good to go through within several seconds.
“We wish you a comfortable stay!” the guard commented, gesturing for the Nameless to step inside. As impressed as he was perplexed, the Nameless obliged.
Once within the pillar-chamber, he saw that the internal mechanism of the thing had been hidden by a large decorative dome. It was the color of the night sky, and littered with countless illustrated stars. With another unpleasant sound, the doors fell back into place, and he was alone again.
The whole room started shaking then, and the sound of gears grinding against gears filled the air. A part of him felt uneasy when the thing began its ascent, but the other, more practical side of him, was quick to put that fear to rest. This is by far not the worst thing I have had to experience, he told himself. He laughed, and the discomfort went away.
Knowing my luck, though, the worst is yet to come.
Interlude One
“He’s inside! Beaten and stabbed! Still bleeding, I think!” the girl shouted, pulling a balding scarecrow of a man through one of the slums’ many walkways.
“You still owe me for last time, you know?” the man replied in a nasal voice.
“I’ll get it! For this one, too. I promise. You know I’m good for it, Doc!” she said at a rapid pace.
“Word on the street,” the doctor said, lifting his glasses with his free hand, “is that you keep borrowing from one party to pay the other. Makes a man wonder just when the merry-go-round will stop turning. “
“And what am I supposed to do, huh? Just lay back and leave my father be? Watch him choke and die when I know I can call you up to help? I just can’t do that. Not now, not ever!” They were almost at the door of her house.
“Then, girl, I am afraid that you will die down here,” he said in a tone devoid of compassion.
“Here we are!” she said as she grabbed the door handle, completely ignoring his words. With a push and the sound of wood scraping against wood, the worn-out thing gave way. “He should be right here—oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” She shouted, dashing inside.
The doctor lifted up his glasses again, sighed, and stepped inside. What followed was the worst part of his week, and it hadn’t been a particularly good one.
Second Level: The Cages
Chapter Five
The ride up was long but not altogether uncomfortable. Whatever mechanism was responsible for the unpleasant noise also seemed to provide the platform with quite a bit of stability, and the Nameless barely noticed when the elevator stopped moving. With another grinding sound, the doors opened, and the entrance to the first floor lay opened.
The large corridor that expanded out from the lift was full of guards. Weapons raised, they stared at him with obvious suspicion. “Second check, citizen. Your documents,” an officer said.
That one ought to move his rifle slightly to the left, the Nameless thought as he complied. Otherwise, there might be something left of me if they all decided to fire.
“Neither of these is a forgery,” the officer confirmed after some ten seconds of fiddling with the cards. “This one is good. Let him through.” In unison they all moved aside, and the way forward was clear.
“Thank you,” the Nameless said as he stepped out of the elevator and took his documents back. “Care to tell me, where am I to go? I am completely lost here.”
“Sink or swim. There’s a map; you’ll be able to see it when you look down from over there. Break a leg,” the officer replied.
After giving the man a nod, the Nameless proceeded forward, able to see more of the area as the guards dispersed. He stood on something akin to a gargantuan balcony. Two sets of downward-leading stairs could be seen on his far left and right, but at the moment he was far more interested in the view. He walked up to the edge, let his hands rest on the balcony, and looked down.
Rows upon rows of tables and chairs extended for as far as he could see, and between them a veritable river of people coursed. Quite a number of them were seated, and it didn’t take long for him to realize just what it was that they were doing. Gambling. Lights of all colors danced across the giant chamber, some originating from the ceiling, others from just around the tables themselves.
However, most of the illumination, at least from his perspective, came from a large, square surface located in the room’s center. The picture on it was of a maze, and to its side was an extended list of words and symbols. He grunted. Good thing the map is simple. Otherwise I might get lost.
For a good fifteen minutes he stared at it from above, not having the faintest idea of where he was to go. Then he let out a long, unbridled yawn, and he remembered just how long he had been on his feet.
Reaping that old man helped me ignore my other needs for a while. At the thought, the man’s stare quickly flashed in front of his eyes. But now that is over, and I cannot ignore my fatigue anymore. He was getting hungry, too, but compared to how tired he was, that problem was more than bearable.
Beds… where are they? The Nameless scanned the map as thoroughly as his drowsy state allowed. Apartments. Yes. The complex of small but numerous rooms took up the better part of the top-right corner, and it did not seem that difficult to find. He turned to his right and proceeded down the stairs.
Besides the occasional guard, the Nameless did not pass anyone by on the steps. It appears that no one is in a particular hurry to go down a floor today. Given the state of the slums, the fact was not surprising.
Once he had reached the actual first floor, the detached-yet-vivid image he had witnessed from up above sprang to life. The river of people was loud, forceful, and almost as dirty as he was. From the second he came close, it practically picked him up and swept him along its currents.
The lights, sights and sounds kept mixing in his semi-conscious state, and he found it difficult to navigate through the chaos. More on instinct than anything else, the Nameless took one of the many side passages he saw, hoping it was the right one. It wasn’t.
The way to the apartments was supposed to pass by a food stand. The path he took, however, went by something he had no words for. Aside from a single, green light source up above, the place had no source of illumination, and appeared sickly and ominous. Spikes and strange things he could not name
surrounded it, all made out of blackened wood and bone. And in its center, on a mockery of a pulpit, stood a man as black as coal. Sharply dressed in a suit that shared the color of his skin, he turned toward the crowd, and stared right into the Nameless’ eyes. Or at least that was how it seemed.
“Brother! Friend!” The black man’s voice was incredibly deep, and strangely melodic. “Has the so-called True Church failed you yet again? Have their promises of riches and success failed to bear fruit once more? If so, then don’t despair! You’re not the only one!” Even though he kept addressing the whole crowd, he spoke to each of them as individuals. A clever approach.
The Nameless turned around, vaguely recalling that he’d seen a stand of the True Church somewhere in the area. I wonder how they manage to exist under the same roof.
“The alternative is right here, and I promise that we will not disappoint!” As he delivered his sales pitch, the black man swung his right arm in a wide arc. As if they appeared from nowhere, several odd-looking bag-things flew from him toward the passers-by. Not unlike pigeons during an afternoon feeding, the people around the Nameless flocked to grab themselves a piece, leaving him even more confused than before.
For a moment, the Nameless considered asking the black man a couple of questions about his resurrected condition. However, the pile of people that still clogged the entrance to the strange shrine was quite successful at discouraging him from doing that. It would have to wait.
Besides, there was something else. He had neither seen nor spoken to a black person since he had risen from the earth. However, now that he did, something about the man’s skin color disturbed the Nameless or, more precisely, scared him. Why? Is he not a man like any other? Despite what his rational side told him, the feeling persisted. As soon as the chance came, he took a detour to the left, losing sight of the green-lit shrine and sighing in relief.
