We were silent as we ran.

We ran far to part ourselves from the Authorities, I suspected.

To shake them off we took shady passageways packed with unkempt regg, red counters on their arms zero or even lower.

I asked what it meant and Haco told me it was their amount of credits—their money. They didn't have enough for housing, so they were thrown onto the streets, forced to enter the Circuit.

Small children and old women dressed in small pieces of clothing stepped aside as the three of us made our way through the crowd. The men stood by their sides with festering wounds, made by man, or maybe even beast. I had heard some regg cautiously whisper words about fights in the Cellars, where many men went to try to earn some credits. Often, these fights had deadly endings.

Ghosts of fingers brushed over my shoulders and arms, as the poor lowered their heads and mumbled phrases like help us, please and sometimes even a careful free us, which was immediately shushed by others.

I didn't avert my eyes, staring at the children, men and women with a sharp pang in my chest. They couldn't live like this.

I ripped myself free from the protection of Vace and Haco, making way to the most dense part of the group.

The smell of unwashed bodies penetrated my nostrils as I made way to the people. A hand grabbed my wrist, and in a reflex I turned around, only to see a girl attached to it. I softened my gaze, trying to muster up a smile.

"Hello," I said, carefully regarding my situation. This could flip any moment. For now, the regg were peaceful, but I had to be careful.

The girl, with frizzy brown hair and a dark skin, looked up to me with big eyes. Grime covered her face, her cheeks stained with the silvery paths of tears. Yet, her lips were coloured cherry red.

At first, I thought she was fifteen, tops. Her skinny figure and height made it seem that way. I looked into her eyes and changed of heart.

She couldn't be much older than I was. Possibly pushing nineteen, even.

"Hello," I said again. "Who are you?" I asked, glancing to my wrist, which she held with a white-knuckled grip. Her fingers resembled twigs, but I was amazed by how strong they still were.

The crowd around us had vanished, leaving only us four behind between the metal beams of the old building.

"Sera," she said, her voice sounding like little bells—which had been trampled to small bits. This girl was broken, like a delicate flower ripped apart by an early winter storm.

She realised she was still holding my wrist, and she quickly let go. She grabbed her elbows, clinging onto her own small frame, a confused frown forming above her deer-like eyes. A cloth was wrapped around her wrist, which was bent in an odd angle. I saw her wince slightly when she moved it.

"What happened to your hand, Sera?" I asked, nodding to the bandage.

"One of them hurt me. He told I didn't treat my client good," she answered, struggling with the language. I had noticed the regg talked in a different language, one which I didn't understand. It seemed like a heavy dialect of the Established Language, but I could never know for sure.

She tried to compose herself with a sarcastic remark. She huffed. "Just like they say always, so they don't give us credits." She sobbed once, but pulled herself back together as quickly as she had broken down. She dragged her good hand over her nose, blinking away the half-formed tears.

The sight broke my heart.

Sera turned her head, stepping aside. "I'm sorry," her eyes darted to my arm, "my Lady. I thought you were someone else..." She shook her head and made her way back again, sulking back into the shadows, disappearing into a hole in the wall.

"Wait! Sera–" I called, extending my hand, but Vace jerked me back.

"That's enough," he hissed, "We're drawing too much attention already."

I shrugged him off, my eyes still fixed to the hole Sera had disappeared into.

"We can't leave her like that," I said, dumbfounded. "Where does she go?" I exhaled, letting my arm fall next to me.

"There are many like her," Vace said softly, "We can't help them all, I'm sorry. They live in unguarded, abandoned buildings and warehouses. Many submit to the Circuit."

I gasped, realising what Sera was. "But don't the–"

"No, they don't. The Masters don't care," Vace answered gravely, turning away. "This is only a small part of what's all going on. You might want to see this as well. It's not far."

* * *

Vace in front, Haco in the rear and I in between them. Twisting through endless alleys and crawlspaces we circled around the centre of the Globe—if my sense of direction served me right.

I scanned my surroundings, taking in as much as I could. I might have to find my own way around here one day, without the guidance of the rebels at my side.

The air I breathed was warm yet cool, different from the hot, humid air which had moved through the air ducts. Condensation made the metal and grey stone walls moist, giving them a foul shine.

The grimy, industrial city pulsed under the metal walls, the loud clangs and clashes of machines making a muffled cacophony of clamour which reverberated through my eardrums.

I looked up, looking at the one-sided shadowed walls of the alley, the source of light unknown to me. The sideways umbra gave everything a mystic feel, enveloping all with a questionable film.

Every sound echoed through the outstretched alleys. The sounds of my boots slamming against the floor were the only sounds we produced, combined with the ever-present noises of the Globe itself.

The sounds of human life became louder with every turn we made, as if we were heading to a large gathering of people.

Suddenly we stood in a clearing, and bumped into a constant stream of bodies.

My eyes widened, never having seen so many people at once. Light from an unknown source bathed the circular square with yellow glow. In the middle stood a massive pillar, reaching all the way to the ceiling of the Globe, I presumed. I couldn't see the top, because it was masked by the brown smoke lingering in the upper half of the Globe.

Ten men could try to circle around it with outstretched arms linked together, but I highly doubted that that would suffice.

"What's that?" I breathed, pointing at the giant pillar.

"Kiddo, I present you the Spiral," Haco said, filled with awe as well. "It's the power source of the Globe."

He pointed at all the cables and tubes connected with and covering the surface the Spiral, twisting around it like, well... a spiral. Underneath all the grey cables and rosters glowed a faint blue light, pulsing through the structure, like it was alive.

"Funny enough, the Globe kind of 'grew' out of the Spiral." He made quotation marks with his fingers. "The Masters plopped those babies everywhere, and the Globes stood within a week. I remember they explained it was like an umbrella—if I even knew what that was."

I huffed. "Typical."

Haco crossed his arms. "Well, it did work. They didn't have to face the weather, radiation and toxic fumes—they stayed safe in their bunkers. The Globes were self-sufficient: they cleaned the air the moment the walls touched the ground and made air tight. After that, the inner construction could be made. There have been numerous improvements and system cleanses since then, but I think it was a pretty good system, considering this was roughly 200 years ago."

"How do you know all that?" I asked, surprised by his detailed explanation.

"Let's say it's hammered in the brains of every regg kid," he said, "Know who the stronger force is blah-blah-blah. I think it's just showing off."

I smiled again. I had missed some useless bantering.

I guessed that couldn't last long.

"Have you seen Vace?" Haco asked.

I glanced around and noticed the black-haired boy was gone. "No," I said, giving Haco a quick glance.

Haco frowned, looking over his shoulders. He sighed. "He really has to stop doing that."

"What are you talking about?" Vace said, suddenly standing next to us.

Haco inhaled sharply. "Dammit, Vace. You startled me."

Vace seemed untouched, his facial expressions remaining the same. "We can visit Balder now. I found him."

Vace abruptly turned around, making way through the mass of people. The smells of unwashed bodies, murk and machine oil seemed to seep out of the crowd, which didn't surprise me. They all stepped aside for Vace, which was easy to follow—you could see his head bob over the crowd from a distance.

"Balder?" I asked, turning to Haco.

"It's his informant. Don't even ask—I barely know the half of what he does." Haco answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the black haired boy in front of us. He wasn't moving that fast—and two tall bodies would be too conspicuous. I had to wait with Haco, before following Vace.

I nodded. "I'd put on your hood if I were you," I said, gesturing to Haco's flaming hair.

Haco gave a small smirk and reached up to pull his hood over his red hair. "Talking like a native," he said, "You learn fast."

"I adapt easily, yes," I answered.

Haco laughed again, digging himself a bit deeper in his sweater. He stepped behind me, as I followed Vace through the crowd. It was easy to follow him, since everyone was at least a head smaller than him.

The regg here were completely different from the regg we found in the alley, yet they were in some aspects alike.

All had brown hair and brown eyes, were small of frame and were all to some extent filthy.

Where I had seen only coveralls earlier, I saw different clothing now. I expected that these regg were off duty. Glancing around I saw several regg in ragged clothing, which all seemed to have a shade of brown covering them.

People were shouting and talking, everyone seemingly headed in another direction. The commotion was only heightened by salesmen and women shouting around trying to sell their goods.

As we moved closer to the edges of the large square, I saw more regg with small carts and stalls moving through or standing in the crowd, selling small trinkets or strange-looking foods.

One older lady walked by, wrinkles decorating her face as she slowly moved her makeshift cart through the crowd.

"Kalla..." she croaked, "Kalla pancakes, only two credits... freshly made... best in the district... kalla..."

I looked at her goods, the name kalla familiar to me. I remembered the sweet, berry pancakes Jaedie and I always ate back home, when the tides were right. I could almost taste the rich juice of the berries on my tongue, as the smell of baked goods drifted in my nose.

I looked down, into her cart as she shuffled by. To my great dismay, these weren't the pancakes I was used to. These thin, floppy discs were in no way alike to the ones back home.

Still, I was curious to how they would taste. Apparently not bad, because her cart was almost empty and the counter on her arm positive.

She disappeared into the crowd again, droning up her sales pitch. "Kalla... kalla pancakes, only two credits..."

I focussed back on Vace's head, as he skilfully made his way through the mass of people.

He stopped at a stall, packed with trinkets and jewellery. The goods and chattels were exposed on a low makeshift table, worn and dented from use.

The table was overladen with rings, bracelets, clocks and other strange curiosities. A particular necklace caught my eye, a vibrant green gem embedded in a translucent material, like glass. It seemed to glow amidst the dull colours of the Globe.

I noticed that the goods lay on a rectangular cloth with four strings attached to the corners, which met in the middle. I was confused for a second, but then it hit me.

That was actually pretty smart. He would only have to pull up where the strings crossed in the middle, and he would have a satchel with everything safely stored in the cloth. Easy for a quick getaway. A corner of my mouth twitched up, impressed by this salesman's resourcefulness. I guessed his stand was unauthorized—I supposed the majority of the salespeople on this square were.

My eyes were drawn to the pendant again, and as I reached for it a small man emerged from under the table.

"Oh no, sweetheart, that is a valuable item," he said, adjusting his shabby, once-purple vest.

He smiled widely, showing a row of yellow teeth underneath a trimmed beard. "My name is Balder. Salesman, informant and acquirer of specific items for a select clientele," he said, bowing his head, "And who might you be, sweetheart?"