The alarm exploded inside my head. Quite literally:

Fuck, maybe I should buy something more analog too? I asked myself, disabling the dammit thing and rolling off the half of the bunk bed. Listening to the equally annoying “tlin, tlin, tlin!” of Gear’s alarm, I reconsidered: maybe I shouldn’t… just switching the means, don’t change the fact that I’m awakening at 5:00 AM, hu?

Once that my sister almost opened her head on the metallic floor, stopping her fall with both hands and feet, having to roll out of the holes on the wall that we called “bunk bed”, like myself she without having enough space in the to small sit straight, I greeted:

“Go - Good morning...”

“Good… morning”, Gear answered, the face covered in sweat, pale.

It was impossible to don’t laugh, and so I did, soon followed by my sister who almost killed herself to turn off her alarm while still half-sleeping.

“Hey, don’t laugh at your big sis! I’ll crack you!”, she pretended to be angry.

“Let me take the upper bed tomorrow”, I said, walking to the bathroom… what took me just a few steps, our house being just one more minuscule cubicle; one in trillions of billions, a single door in a wall that extended to all directions and all around the sun, an enormous interconnected system of a single closed metallic spider web: the Dayson City.

Well, technically the house is Shitba- I mean, father’s property...

“No way!”, answered Gear, doing what everyone had to do right after myself, the toilet also in a hole in the wall and (the most) away (possible) from the sink; I was already brushing my teeth. “This place is old and is all rusty, what if the upper bed fall and smash me to death?!”.

I, my mouth full of foam from the toothpaste, looked straight into her eyes, shocked.

“So, if I die, will it be okay?”

“Oh, Heavy...” resting one hand in my shoulder and lifting her right hand’s thumb up, she concluded: “don’t worry, if you die, your big sister would make good use of the insurance”, made reference to the “right” each Worker had of having a percentage of his/her salary taken by the company and “reserved” to the worse scenarios.

Sighing, I spat the foam, washed my mouth and, once again, looked to her, this time, thru the reflex of the mirror: like myself, she had short black hair, skin tanned just a little, and a smile that saved my life the most gentle person I knew. And, like every other bio-engineered Worker, she also had extreme temperatures resistance, strong and well-defined muscles, and green eyes capable of seeing in the darkness.

“What are you staring so much? Oh!” she covered her mouth, displaying an exaggerated expression of surprise. Closing her eyes in an obviously false sadness, she concluded: “Heavy, I know that I’m extremely beautiful, smart, kind and humble, but you can’t: I’m your sister!”

“This cut in your cheek… it’s new”, I pointed, ignoring her joke.

“...Yeah. Luck... 77 died yesterday, so I was chosen to be his substitute. 77 was chopped right in the middle by the machine’s blades, so, maybe, not so “Luck”, hu?”

“No, he was luck”, one, two, three steps and I was already on the kitchen and gulping the necessary pills, the cheapest nutrient source out there: my meal.

“Because he had lived enough to met me? Or because he was working with the machines even though he was a man?”

Resting, sitting and watching Gear wasting her time and eating a loaf of bread, I replied, supporting my cheek against my hand, elbow on the table: “because if he had survived, but got injured, it would be the end. He wouldn’t be able to work anymore, nor get married and his family...” threw me away, like useless scum. If it wasn’t for Gear…

“...They just showed up to get his insurance”, Gear said, also finishing her meal; yet, being obligated to drink the pills – a single bread would never be enough to fill a person for nineteen hours of work.

“I guessed” I said, walking to the door.

“Heavy”, my sister took my hand. I looked above my shoulder and directly at concerned her eyes. “I wouldn’t abandon you, so…”

“I know”, I held her hand tightly, smiling, just before letting it go. “let’s go now, they won’t way for us”

Outside was loud, the trucks and containers flying up and down, to the left and to the right in the apparently endless fall to my right side and of Gear’s too, the hollow center of the Dyson City. Millions were getting out of their houses and going to work in both walls of the metallic abyss, the sidewalks, grilled platforms one above another in infinite levels.

“Hm?” I noticed a girl falling to the ground after some brute bumped into her. Coming closer and lending her a hand I asked: “are you okay?”

She was just about to reach for my hand when, looking up and surprised, she restrained herself and pulled her fingers back:

“I- I won't pay you anything for this ridiculous help!”

“I don’t want your money, God”, I sighed, offering my hand once again.

The girl, still on the ground, half-closed her eyes, staring me and my hand. Blushing, she shouted, jumping up and slapping my face:

“I won’t give you my body neither!”, and ran away.

“...I don’t want it too…!” I whispered between my teeth, massaging my red cheek marked with five bright fingers.

“Well, what were you expecting?” Gear came closer. “She would be a slave already if she accepted all the help from strangers; it’s like they say: nothing is for free, not even the air you breath”, my sister made reference to the oxygen tax.

“But...” I looked to her, hurt by more than just a slap. “Do I look this suspicious?”

Gears face squirmed in an awful expression, when she replied, without being able to look into my eyes:

“N- No, of course not! Yeah, like, th- there’s no way...”

I sighed, putting myself once again on my way to work. At least we’re not wearing all the same cloths... I couldn’t avoid but to bit my lower lip. Right when we turn in a crossroads and saw ourselves between the shops.

“Ah, that’s a good imitation”, Gear pointed one of the plastic plants in the exhibition in one of the countless showcases; that had everything from high tech prosthesis implants and all kind of body transformations and improvements, pleasure programs to install in the Guardian Angel, cloths, food beyond the necessary pills, and human organs to implant… or do whatever you wanted with it. “Every time I pass here, I want to buy a new thing”, I listened, seeing her smile with the corner of my eyes while she looked around at to the numberless amount of boards, billboards, letters in neon and screens displaying all kind of happiness that money could buy.

“Well, I think that that’s the purpose of making all the people in the entire City go thru one of these districts to reach any other place”

Suddenly, then, Gear stopped.

“Hm?”, I followed her sight. Is she planning to sell her organs?! I saw the second shop to the left, the nice building with lively mascots in its faxed, a board with (great disparity in it’s) prices of selling and buying and a door filled with flyers and adverts. No, it can’t be, right? ...Is she planning to join the Last Man Tournament!? Then, the flyer glued at the said shop’s door stole my attention, a paper ended with eight zeros and topped by a bunch of weirdos, explosions, and weapons.

“Do you think...” she, then, said, expressionless. “Do you think that, one day, we could live in the upper sectors? See the Sun and the plants, feel earth and rivers, real ones… See… stars?”

It was the travel agency that she was looking to… But, the upper sectors, hu? There’s no way Workers like us could achieve this, unless we won the Last Man or sell the organs of a thousand strong men, I thought, almost smiling embittered, but restraining myself at the last moment.

And there are no more stars...

“Yeah. We will, for sure”, I answered. Then, she turned to smile, and I couldn’t tell what those with teeth hidden.

“You shouldn’t lie to your big sister, you know? Don’t you read the bible?”

“And you did?!” wait, it wasn’t supposed to simple Workers spent money on this kind of knowledge, so, how does she know about historical facts?!

“Well, 49 told me that he saw on VR that religion used to take lie as a Sin”

“That’s insane: how didn’t everyone died? Also, it doesn’t make specif that you can’t lie to your big sister, but to everyone!”, we continued our way: get late wasn’t an option.

“Well, it wasn’t like today, it was before the Guardian Angel and before even God, commit a sin wouldn’t make your brain to explode”

“...It was also that 49 guy who told you that?”

“Yeah, why? Oh! Hm~ perhaps, are you jealous...? Come on, tell me! Tell me, are you?! You are jealous, aren't you!”

“Oh, shut up! If he doesn’t even take care of you when your sick, I won't let accept this guy!”

Soon, my sister and I reached the truck, waited for the Leader call our numbers and entered the right container to be transported to our respective workplace; we said goodbye and she went to the “machinery”, to operate the enormous instruments, like women usually did, their brain designed to remember every and each cog and cable and their function in the entire City (not that they had the opportunity to memorize the entire thing, or the time to do it), and I to the “repairs”, to fix the damage in the Web wherever it was, to carry materials, walk over incandescent metal and breath a lot of smoke, the men bodies, even though had the same general structure of the women, having a bigger part of the brain dedicated to muscle and temperature maintenance.

It’s unfair… I wished I had enough calculation skill to drive a motorcycle, I complained, throwing the boxes I was caring on the spot I was supposed to, and coming back to get even more of them; but it was the same for everyone: the guys at the very top were true genius when talking about administrations, leadership and “important things” and the Archangels were undefeated in battle. I wasn’t smart as the higher-ups supposed were, nor strong as the Soldiers, but wasn’t needed to be any special to comprehend why God made us this way and, then, separated us and made us hate each other: so we can never usurp him.

Oh, wait, wait, wait, better I stop to think this shit right now, before I commit a Sin and the Guardian Angel in my brain explode, I thought. Right before I reached the door to the stairs and saw it locked.

“Oh, fuck”

Looking back, I still could see the giant hole on the wall: while the space wasn’t visible, the hole must have lead to it one way or another, because there just wasn’t air on the freezing room; another scar left on the City by the continuous Banks War.

Turning again to the door and giving my best to open it, just to miserably fail (there’s a limit even to this genetically modified body!), I thought: I can survive without breath for more a few dozen minutes, but I’ll lose my strength way sooner in this cold; I can see ice everywhere!

What should I do? What should I do?! Soon, six minutes had passed and the door was, still, locked, immobile no matter how hard I pushed and pulled.

Should I risk to go thru the hole? No, there’s no way someone could just find the right way in this maze of City! Twelve minutes.

Should I try to break thru the walls or something?! No, this thing is made to last forever in a cold, empty, and endless darkness with all the matter that rested on the universe, there’s just no way a simple Worker could even scratch it! Twenty minutes. And, even if I did, for a miracle, I wouldn’t get out of here unharmed. My bones would probably be reduced to dust at that point and, while Gear did afford to buy medicine for my sickness, she can’t do the same for a surgery or a prosthesis…

Even if I know that she would give everything to do it…

“BAM!”, the door opened with a boom and a strong hand, immediately, pulled my already immobile body to the stairs and to the breathable atmosphere again, the door closing behind me with another “BAM!”.

I wasn’t saved, though.

“Hi, 46”, the guy with only the right ear, stepping who on my chest commented. “Still alive? What a shame”, my body was too weak due to the cold, and 89’s, no, Asshole’s foot made it hard to breathe.

“Well, it’s not like we wanted to kill him before” so it was you who locked the door! “After all, it wouldn’t be possible to beat the shit out of him if we did so”, concluded Douchebag, the one with only the left ear, kicking my face and cutting open my lips.

Why were they hitting and spanking me? The answer was clear, of course, and always was, since I came to this district: because they had shitty Worker lives, and found relief in hinting me, like I found relief in Virtual Reality.

Or, at last, this was what I thought, it was not like I had ever asked them about their hate for me, nor that I gave a shit about it, to be honest, I also hated them and, like any normal human being, didn’t really cared if they had, actually, a sad past, a problem with my previous malign reincarnation or saw me as a love rival.

Having my mouth filled with one of my own socks and felling my balls almost disintegrate under another kick, tears coming to my eyes, I could only though: again, it’ll be a long day...

The interior of the container was dark, but that wasn’t a problem for a Worker: most of our job was executed in obscure places, so God made us capable of see thru the veil of darkness. Even though our green eyes of vertical pupils were useless like the one of everyone else against a swelled eyebrow.

The doors opening and freed a hundred of Workers hurried to get out of that place and rest; I walked without having real control to where I was going, carried by a wave of meat. Finally getting out of the crowd, I walked to the point where I usually met with Gear, rest my back on the wall, started the app, and immersed in Virtual Reality while waiting.

Gear didn’t like these “false feelings”, like VR or the necessary pills, but I never had a problem with it: in the VR I could drive a motorcycle, feel the sunlight tingling my skin, eat as much as I could (and do other things that no one else needs to know), fuck, I could even make the time slower.

Well, not a surprise that passing more than 20 minutes a day in VR is a Sin: if it wasn’t this way, no one would live shitty Worker life anymore, just put the time a billion times slower in VR and starve to death… I thought while felling the stream fondle my feet and listening to my NPC friend, a frog-man in light armor, talk with the rest of the simulated party, and to the birds singing in “Fantasy Old Earth Simulation”.

But, sure, she’s late, I waited. And waited. And waited.

And waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, then, finally:

“Oh, you’re 46, right?”, called a Worker, bringing myself to the shitty reality I lived again; his hair was brown, his skin tanned and his eyes green with vertical pupils, and, at that hour, he was using his company uniform.

“Yes, and you’re?”,I asked, but, felling my heart beating faster and faster, deep inside, I already knew.

“I’m 125762449, call me ‘49’ for short. I was your sister’s friend; used to talk to her when bringing things to the area where she worked”

“was”? He said? “was”?

“She, 32, was working with this dangerous machine that had already taken the life of its previous operators, when she got a little off balance and got involved in an accident today. Sorry. The leader said that...”

“WHERE IS SHE?!”, I asked, grabbing 49’s arms, impossible to carry less about who said what. Three of my right hand’s fingernails had being broke, and there were bruises and scratches all over the length of the limb, so it wasn’t a surprise when 49, easily, freed himself from my, then, too sensitive arm, I’m almost failing in resist the pain.

Annoyed, the nose and eyebrows slightly frown in disgust, the man who warned me answered:

“A.874 – 39,88, Worker Area. Easy Hospital”. Giving his back to me and moving away, I heard he whispering, after clicking, audibly, his tongue: “Tch! There’s o point in being gentle nowadays...”

Had, right after get the hospital address, called via my Guardian Angel a taxi, I hurried to see my sister, but not before buying a bouquet of plastic flowers, in a shop right in front of the hospital that had a giant sign saying “visiting someone important? Bring them our flowers, or their already bad health will get even worse out of sadness! ...Unless they’re already dead: it would be rude to show up to the funeral without having any flower!”.

I waited, standing right in front of the door of the small room, cowardly. Had heard of her conditions, I couldn’t bring me to open the door before breathe once, twice, thrice. Then, finally, I knocked on the door and waited for the answer:

“Uh, you may come in..?”, I entered the room. “Oh, Heavy...!?”, she rubbed her eyes. “...Looks like I fucked the things up, hu?”, smiling, my sister continued normally. “What’s with this face? Don’t worry, man! I’m sure I’ll be capable of finding a work that doesn’t need me to walk too much! And, this isn’t even any big shit too: we can just it fix with a pegleg or whatever. I asked for the doctor let me go after the curative was done and the bleeding had stopped, but, you know how these things are: you lost a leg, they force you to be hospitalized because of your company contract, and charge you an unimaginable amount of money for the surgery and shit! As expected o these schemes, the doctor talked for hours shit about my hand; like “the blood loss this, and muscles and nerves that: buy our new prosthesis!”; but I already feel it getting better, and-!”

The room my sister hospitalized was as small as our bathroom, it had contained only her bed, a cavity in the wall with the toilet, and a window; it took me only two steeps to reach her.

Her hand was shaking when I took it; but only one of them.

Her leg had been cut right above the knee, and half of her face was hidden behind bandages.

“I’m sorry, Heavy...”, Gear sniffed. Then, started to cry openly: “I’m, sorry! I’m, sorry! I- I won’t be able to work, they said! We have no money for a prosthesis, and… And with my face like this, I can’t even get married, there’s no future to me…!”

“Ah, tha- That 49 guy told me about you!”, I, pathetically, pointed.

“But it was you the first and only one to come to visit me”, she replied, smiling again, even though the tears hadn’t stopped rolling her cheeks. Squeezing my hands, Gear turned to the window, her face hidden from me. “I’m sorry, Heavy. For getting into this situation”, she said, her voice now calmly, like the endless darkness that resided outside the Dyson City. Like someone who already lost all hope. “The debt of the surgery Is kinda too high, but, I’m sure that you can pay it in five to ten years. Ah, you can look at it as the price for our- no, your and your only new house! I’ll be sure to spend the rest of my money to write a proper inheritance for yo-”

“CAN’T YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?!”, I screamed angrily, but my voice losing its tone in the end and turning into a pitiful cry. “Don’t talk as if you were already dead!”, it hurt. More than my shitty Worker life, more than the despair of the imminent death and suffocation, more than the constant beatings, more, even, than the apathy I say all around. More than dad abandoning me and letting me to die. “I’ll do something, okay? I won’t let you just go away and vanish forever. I will gather the money for your prosthesis, and take you home, and we will laugh when you fall from the bed, and take you stupid long breakfasts and talk while walking to work!”

“Heavy… Why would you go this far? I would be nothing more them a dead weight”

“Don’t act like you don’t understand, when you had done the same for me before…!”, My vision melting, I couldn’t look into her eyes, facing down, biting my lower lip.

“I didn’t save you to make you in debt with me!”

“And I’m not saving you because I feel like owing you”, finally lifting my head, seeing her figure against the window and all the light that came from the signs outside; the advocacy at the right with the “Dying? You shouldn’t make you lost even more painful to your family and friends, then: write an inheritance!”, while the one at the left went with “It is your family and friends' responsibility to pay for your medical debts! Don’t let emotions get in the way: sue them and save yourself!”, having, yet, the cloth shop above these two saying “personalize your hospital clothes: aprons, slippers and more!”. “I’ll save you because, for me, you’re the only thing in this world that have value”.

I had no idea what I was talking about, the words just left my mouth before I could tell, and as soon as I did so, I felt my face burning, my cheeks blushing.

What am I doing?! No one says these shameful things in real life!

Yet, Gear faced me surprisingly serious, almost astonished.

“...Heavy, when I saved you back them, when our parents send you to me, I.. I was just feeling lonely. I would do the same to anyone, so your admiration is-”

“And anyone else could have saved me, but it was you. Millions die every day, suffering is our currency and looks like no one has more tears to shed, and yet, you were there for me. You cried for me.”

“It wasn’t for you, it was for myself”, she insisted, biting her lower lip. “There’s no such a thing as real altruism, you know?”

“...Yeah. And I will save you for my own selfishness”