Just an Undercity Rat, Julie Steimle [e book reader TXT] 📗

marvel, actually. There were no growing things in the undercity, unless one wanted to count the mold or the insects infesting the dark corners. All the undercity kids secretly marveled at the trees as they walked toward their school each day. Of course, no one was allowed to touch them, not even the middlecity locals.

They also stared jealously at the sky panels. Here the sky was not patchy, though it still looked somewhat fake; but heat worked perfectly here. The temperature was moderate. In fact, it never changed. And the air was much fresher in the middlecity than in the undercity, so much that many of the teens breathed in deeply as they walked. But this only drew in more scowls and glares from the Social Working Class and High Class members of the area who felt the intrusion most of all. But even their protests the government ignored, reminding all that this transfer was only temporary.

There were other sights to behold that made their daily commute interesting. Because they were so close to the Seer Quarter, occasionally they saw those black haired Seer Class people going about their business. And on occasion they stopped Jafarr to ask why he was with the undercity children. If he couldn’t sneak ahead before that happened, most times he merely ducked his head with the reply, “I am an undercity child.”

That day they saw the largest grouping yet, and luckily they looked too occupied to even stare at the undercity kids. Two rows of teenaged seers in training dressed in robes of simple brown with gray trim walked behind their teacher towards the transit hall, their equally dark blue eyes fixed solemnly on their goal as their black-topped, marked heads bowed in mediation. Jafarr could see ink stamped emblems of the heart of Arras on all their foreheads. When the undercity kids walked by this class of seers, both groups of people tried to ignore the other though a few snuck glances on both sides.

 One particular seer boy at the rear of the procession struggled to keep with the quiet dignity of the rest of the seers as he walked. He appeared to be like someone incredibly burdened. His shoulders were stooped as if weighed down by sandbags. He was dragging his feet while hefting an enormous, worn leather-bound book in his arms. Also, he was not dressed the same as the others. Unlike his classmates, bright colored scarves draped around his neck with beautifully embroidered with words of the ancient tongue on them. Jafarr blinked, reading the words then staring at the boy whom he understood was the record keeper. And as far as he understood from the lessons his mother had taught him, there was only one chosen record keeper each generation. This young man was important. Peering at him still as he walked with his own crowd to school, Jafarr observed how disconsolate the boy seemed.

They passed by one another, Jafarr still examining the expression on the seer boy’s face when the record keeper looked up. Both boys’ eyes connected then. They held their gaze for several seconds as their groups walked by each other on the street. Dzhon was too busy chatting with Alzdar to notice, but Alzdar glanced back at Jafarr to see what he was staring at. Then he nudged Dzhon. Following his gaze, both boys saw the young record keeper’s mouth drop slowly open.

The young seer ceased walking.

“What’s he staring for?” Several of Jafarr’s classmates murmured at the young seer in the middle of the traffic.

Jafarr shuddered as an unusual ripple of energy rushed through him, almost as if he had just grabbed a live wire.

“Banden!”

Immediately the record keeper blinked then turned to look back at his teacher. The entire seer procession had halted on the street to wait for him, peering back at him with disparaging expressions.

Jafarr smirked, but continued walking onward with his class.

Right away the young seer scrambled to the front of the procession, distractedly calling to his teacher, and pointed his finger towards Jafarr. However, by this time Jafarr’s class had mostly turned the corner of the last intersection towards the school building and he had ducked his head back to the crowd so that he did not stand out at all. He peeked out of the corner of his eye then glanced back once more when he went around the corner.

The head seer squinted to look at Jafarr but then brushed it off with a wave of his hand, saying something dismissive to the young record keeper that they could not hear. Then he started leading the procession again. His pupils followed him, leaving the young record keeper standing on the street staring at the corner where Jafarr’s class had gone. With a sigh, he joined the end of his group once more, kicking the ground with his heel.

A Special Lesson

 

The middlecity school building was like all the others in the undercity—thirty-seven floors that touched the false sky, made of concrete, stone and metal. As far as they knew, that was always the same. Inside, the walls were the same color as the corridors of Jafarr’s apartment building. Gray-green, though the paint here was touched up and maintained. Most of the teachers waited at the doors of the classrooms as the students filed in. They entered with a silent shudder, feeling dread at the education they would receive. Indoctrination to the views of the High Class and the Creed of Tharser was what it was.

Alzdar winked at Jafarr before he took his seat, and Dzhon nodded to him, still miffed. Jafarr walked to his regular desk in the far right and unfolded his computer screen so he could insert his school card to begin his lessons early. Sneaking a tiny glance around, he quietly pulled another card out of his pocket and inserted it in a slot hand carved in the machine, exposing unusual ports for the regular class model. He then pulled his headset on and listened to the foreign words of the English language spoken into his ear. He mimicked the sound of the words given to him in the metropolitan American accent and lowered his screen slightly so no one but he could see what was displayed.

On the screen words flashed, breaking up syllables as he heard them. Usually the word was given first and he would guess at it. Then he would hear it. Jafarr glanced around carefully to see if anyone was noticing what he was doing, but the teacher was still at the door. Most of the others were working on homework that they had not finished the night before.

He looked at another word and read it—Manufacture.

Another word—Psychotic.

Another word—Distilled.

His teacher approached, going down the aisle to check in on the students. Jafarr ripped his card swiftly out of the machine. The letters vanished from the screen so that he stared once more at the clear bluish display. Grinning as she passed by, Jafarr then took a breath. He had already mastered the American accent well. It was reading that he really wanted, but normally such foreign languages were taught by ear only, more or less as a guarantee against emigration. He had created the card to teach him—using information stolen from the government emigration program set up by uppercity officials that also ran ISIC, the national prison. If he was ever caught learning to read English he probably would end up in ISIC. After all, only those going to an English speaking country on Partha needed to know the written language, and ‘rats’ didn’t do that; only the wealthy could afford it.

Bored with the oral lesson, he switched his monitor off, which was just as well since the World Government lesson was about to begin. Jafarr’s teacher called attention to the front of the class where she had set up the usual topic display on the big screen, and all the students looked up.

“Class, today we have a surprise for you. But first, we must review for our upcoming exam. Who would like to list the main governing bodies of Arras?” the rather mousy teacher with white hair asked, gazing on each of their faces.

The students sat silent in their seats, but it was routine that teacher called on several without waiting for volunteers. Jafarr was her favorite for such tasks since he usually delivered.

“Zeldar, would you please?” she said, leading out a hand.

He took a breath then stood up in the proper manner, quoting the lines from his text, which he had memorized for some time. “The government is made up of four heads. The Main Council, which directs all political and social-economical matters, the Judicial Council which has 18 branches, judging all 200 districts, and the People’s Military, which keeps civil (cough) unrest at a minimum….”

The students all coughed as Jafarr did at this textbook answer, and some snickered. Jafarr himself smirked as he quoted what he considered to be pure drivel.

 “…And the Surface Patrol, which keeps the borders of Arras. All other branches of government are appendages of these.” The moment he finished quoting, Jafarr sat down.

“Thank you, Zeldar,” she said with a pert nod. “Students, today we will be touring a part of the Surface Patrol. District Alpha has invited us to tour in order to better inform us about this branch in government, and they are also seeking recruits.”

The class murmured together, watching their teacher promptly turn and order them to exit the room. Jafarr peered over at Alzdar who smiled with a nod at him, lifting his eyebrows with a knowing look.

The students filed out as commanded, standing up at their desks all together. Then marching out with the strictness typical of an Arrassian schoolroom each going out and lining up in the hallway, the students whispered amongst themselves, marching quickly back through the corridor they had just come through back into the open cavern where they then filed into a rather junky looking vehicle that was parked on the curb—recognizably their old undercity school transport bus. Clearly the middlecity school had no desire to share their roomier, more comfortable vehicle with them.

Taking their assigned seats, many at once threw off the orderly vestiges of their classroom, talk roaring aloud with a million questions at once. Alzdar promptly turned around in his seat to face Jafarr who sat behind him. Dzhon leaned in from across the aisle.

“Alzdar, did you know about this?” Jafarr asked watching the tall blonde’s face as he grinned. 

Nodding, Aldzar replied matter-of-factly, “Of course. The teachers have been planning this trip for a long time. We will be meeting military heads if we are lucky.”

Jafarr smirked and settled in his seat.

Noticing Jafarr’s posture with the understanding that it meant he didn’t care, Alzdar said, “You have been in a mood all day. Why are you so grim? This is a once in a life time chance.”

With a shrug, Jafarr only settled in more. “So? I’m just not interested in what any soldier of any kind has to say.”

“They aren’t the People’s Military,” Alzdar said.

Jafarr made a face.

“They keep us here, don’t they?” He settled more firmly in his seat, peering out the window of the vehicle as it started up then rose into the traffic. Already the middlecity slipped by in