I abandon the interface and stagger to my feet, hurrying into the foyer. Five weeks of work, three missed ELETE evaluations, and ten missing person's reports later, I stand in front of those large doors fighting back tears.

My father's missing.

Thoughts come and go of a mine cave-in somewhere obscure—unsanctioned mines like those are more lucrative. No matter where he is—even if I have to dig him out myself, I have to find him. But I can't.... Not this broke.

I know Gara won't care what I've got to say. She never even remembers my name. She throws credits away, though. All the time. And right now, I need credits.

The door creaks open as I knock.

Gara meets me; she must have plans to go out, too.

Her outfit catches my interest, though; it's popular only in the Lower-Levels. She's even wearing trousers now, a long sash draped as a skirt.

"Oh, it's the imp-pup," she says.

Shame burns in me for being flattered that she at least remembers my face. Most nights she lets me fall asleep on her bedroom floor if I'm too wasted to stand up and leave. I never remember much of what happens with whoever she's got in there with her so it's okay.

"Are you here with this bodyguard shit again?" she asks.

I ignore her because I need to keep my nerve. "Mrs. Gara...I'm...I think I'm your biggest fan in the Colony. I want to work on stage with you. But I need a sponsor to help me fund my studies. I have to go home to my pa. The last missing person's report is for him, and they mixed up our names. I...but before I go down to find him, I want to go with something to show for it."

Gara folds her arms, crosses her legs at the ankle, and leans against the doorframe. "You're asking me for loot?"

I'm not. "No." In the mornings like these, if I haven't had anything, I feel woozy. She studies me; she can see it. "Yes, I guess, I am."

"I'm heading down to the Lower-Levels today. I do need the help there. Get yourself whatever you need off my dresser to tide you over. But when we come back, know that we're gonna have to talk about your job. I can't have people around me looking for a handout. Nobody ever gave me shit."

My heart lurches. I'm not quite sure what she says, and truth be told, my focus is just on getting something to ease the pain that's coming.

I step past her, tentative as I look for the pills she's promised.

From the doorway she calls, "You're new to this shit, you'd better cut back."

I make good credits—incredible credits, and each pay allotment goes right down my throat. It'd be okay if I can get up on that stage, though. Then I'd make more than enough. It'll make up for my father going to see me test into ELETE just to sit down there in his only church suit waiting for a son to arrive that never shows.

Two pills bring the Colony back into focus for me. I feel good. Thoughts of that missing person's report for Philippe Remy, fifty years of age, made the world fade again.

"Come along with me to the Lower-Levels. I wanna get in one of those races," Gara says, easing off the doorframe.

"If it's all the same to you," I say, "I have to go home."

We don't have to go far once we exit the house; the transport portal for the Lower-Levels is close.

She says she's going to the Lower-Levels to join in a race. The derby is only a few clicks from where I live. Gara reminds me that she's a noblewoman and shouldn't be left unsupervised in such a rough area of the Colony. She handles herself just fine, though. She speaks the language better than even my father who's lived here most of his adulthood.

The main transport wall in the Lower-Levels spits us out. Celebrities walking through the Lower-Levels was a common enough occurrence, so there was no mob. Most flashed her a smile and wave then held their data tablet up to capture her image.

My section, the Lower-Levels. Is a strange sight. The bottom layer of a city collapsed into the Colony when it sank underground. But above that are countless other structures stuck in a state of petrified free fall. It looks like something must have turned a city upside down and dropped it into the underground on top of another. Here, there is cobblestones instead of smooth tunnel walls. It was also impossible to use portals freely, so we have to travel by other means. By luck or misfortune, we can take the same tram. I'll get off after her. I'm trying to think of how to tell her that I'm not going to follow her around; I need to check in on my father.

"So is your mom going to be there, too?" Gara asks, reclining in a window seat.

I'm worried, so I don't meet her gaze but I do gesture to a building coming up that reads "Reba's."

"There's my mother," I mutter. She doesn't understand so I explain. "Almost all refugees from Topside are male."

"Female dominated hellscape. Yeah, I know."

Her words surprise me; my father never mentions why so many males came underground. I've assumed it is just the way it is. The fact that Topside is female dominated isn't common knowledge. We only know that cannibals and mutants run freely and rule with an iron fist.

I don't argue, I just watch Reba's as it passes by. "Most Topsiders stay in the main area when they come. A lot of them aren't used to being underground; they hate it. My father's tough, he came right down here."

Gara sits up, seemingly interested. She's dressed down for her travels, indicating that she knows what she's stepping into with coming into the Lower-Levels.

"Why is that? I would think Topsiders wouldn't want to be around so many Traditionalists. Don't most Topsiders get picked on and cheated."

I need to defend my father. "My dad's smart. He's afraid of going back up top. You know, if anyone doesn't get a branding tattoo on time, or commits a bad enough crime, they get exiled. He came down here looking to marry a woman."

We both smile and then chuckle.

"Yeah. I know," I admit. "Sometimes he's smart."

"Wow, that must have been a letdown," Gara agrees. "I can't imagine a Colony woman alive who'd bed a Topsider."

She says it jovially enough, but it still hurts.

"Well, for marriage he wasn't gonna find anyone. No family or bloodlines to brag about. So instead, he saved up for about fifteen years and when he had enough, he went to a local breeder down here and she had me for him. And he made sure and paid for me to be delivered naturally. It was a fortune. Look." I turn the back of my neck to shower her the breeder branding behind my right ear. "He even paid for it to be hidden so no Traditionalist would pick on me on sight.

"Some breeder-born Lowlanders have it in the open and the only reason my father didn't pay to remove it, he said, was to make sure I didn't end up marrying a distant sister by mistake. And he did that all on a miner's budget," I brag. Her look of admiration puts me at ease. I leave out the part I've heard others say in passing. The bits about my father being too shy to sleep with a woman, or how even though he'd paid extra for that fact, Reba couldn't stand his smell so she offered to just do it via insemination.

My expression must be telling because Gara put her hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, you okay, love?"

I gesture to an upcoming crowd. "Here's your stop."

Gara glances at the people then scoots closer to me and says, "So he came all this way to get a kid?"

I'm not sure if she's poking fun, so I keep my eyes on my feet. "Yeah, I guess so. But mostly, he stayed because of Job."

"Job?"

"Yeah, he runs a gym—"

"He cranks out the best fighters in the Colony," Gara says, sounding the most energetic I've ever heard her. "You train with Job? Holy hell. That's incredible! Do you know Harris? He's the best fighter around. I've got all his major evaluations on diskette."

I have nothing to say.

We get off at my stop and Gara seems genuinely pleased with the area. That must have been a lie. It's dingy and dirty, only three clicks from the damn mines.

"Not a bad spot," Gara says. "It's nice and solid." She looks up and nods. "Your dad's damn smart. Living right next to the mine's one of the best things he can do for himself if he's mining." She meets my curious gaze and calms. "The love of my life used to mine. So...."

"Blue?" I ask, remembering that strange uniform.

Gara's color fades. She doesn't seem as energetic as she gestures at the path before us. The one tunnel we stand in splits into three humongous ones littered with round metal doors. Not many Low-Landers even know these are inhabited; they usually mistake it for storage equipment. Not Gara; she shocks me by asking, "Which one's yours?"

I hesitate. Until now, I've never brought anyone home. It's cramped and old. The smell....

She waits, though, so I point.

"I'll...I'll go in," I say, and hurry past her.

I open the door and walk in. A second later, I walk right back out again.

Gara runs to catch up with me. "What is it?"

"He's...he's not moving," I mutter.

To my surprise, Gara pushes by, not even commenting or swearing at the stench. She kneels down by my father's side, going so far as to put her face against his back to listen.

"He's breathing. But I don't know for how long. Help me get him up."

I can't move. She looks back over her shoulder to me and says, "We'll clean him off first. Can you run a bath?"

"We don't have a bath," I admit.

"But you have water?"

I nod. Depending on how long he has been there, and whether or not he's sold the allotment yet, we might have some.

"Okay, then. Get a container. We'll clean him off and get him a medic."

I still don't move. I can't move. My pa's all I've ever known. What'll I do if he's...? The one time I leave him to enter a new year alone, and I can't even move.

Fucking coward. Move!

Gara lets out a sigh and takes off her sash. She goes to the sink to put it in. A moment later she kneels again and tries to pull my father's coveralls down. She pauses and looks at me.

"He's hurt. We have to call a medic now. I'll clean what I can, but I don't think these wounds are new."