The Restoration of Flaws (The Phantom of the Earth Book 5) (2 page)

*Candidates who do not receive a bid at the Harpoon Auction are sent to the Lower Level.

**As of 367 AR, 180,776,206 candidates have been sent to the Lower Level since the inception of the Harpoon Auction in 186 AR.

***Data from 368 AR to 400 AR is estimated.

Source: Department of Communications and Commonwealth Relations.

Solar System’s Population

*Years based on a combination of the Gregorian and Livellan calendars.

**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.

Source: Campanian Consortium.

Solar System’s Population: Before and After Reassortment

*Years based on the Livellan calendar.

**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.

Source: Campanian Consortium.

Solar System’s Population: After Reassortment

*Years based on the Livellan calendar.

**Data from 368 AR to 370 AR is estimated.

Source: Campanian Consortium.

For clearer versions of the maps, settings, and charts, please visit:
http://www.raedenzen.com/

Region 7

Lower Level

4,000 meters deep

Brody dipped his toe to the gravel. A sign overhead read LOWER LEVEL REGION 7 in neon maroon letters, surrounded by burning salamanders. The region’s wind struck him, leaving a crawling sensation all over his skin. His arms, fingers, and toes tingled. The more he moved the more it felt as if his feet and legs functioned on their own, independent of his brain, body, and the zeropoint field.

Lichen grew from the gravel and spread over his feet and up his legs.

You did this
, it said,
when you snapped Vernon Lebrizzi’s neck.

Yes, he should’ve known, all those late nights, those days when Damy disappeared. Going to dine in Ope City, going to the Spas in Gaia, going to see Veronicella in Hammerton Hall or the Haydn duet in Artemis Square. Never with Brody.

You did this when you were born and left unregistered, when your father killed himself.

He remembered the day when he and Xylia had nearly suffocated in the malfunctioning bunker in his father’s apartment unit. His father had pulled them out into the cellar and said: “Son, please forgive me … I can’t go to the Lower Level.”

Hari’s dead body disappeared, replaced by Lady Eulalie of House Variscan, who held his hand and said, “I see a champion in you, Broden Barão, and when you take off, no one will stop you.”

He’d taken his master’s place in the RDD, the shadow for the master, the master for the shadow, and Antosha, his former shadow, took his woman the same as Brody took Antosha’s, and he took Brody’s place in the RDD the same as Brody took Jeremiah Selendia’s.

The shadow covered the master twice.

Antosha stole the Reassortment project from him, along with his life, and he knew what came next: the twins, his legacy, his punishment.

Don’t hide
, the lichen said,
don’t run
.
This is everything you deserve.

“You can’t stop here,” a Janzer said.

The lichen disappeared from Brody’s feet and body. It no longer spoke. The Janzer took him by the arm and escorted him over the limestone pathway.

“Here,” the Janzer said to a black bot labeled TYLER, “this is your responsibility.”

“I was on the … stairs,” Tyler said. Slits for its eyes and mouth glowed maroon, and it didn’t have noticeable audio captures the way the bots in Beimeni did. And its voice sounded deep and synthesized, like Marstone’s. It examined his tags. “Mister … Broden. I’ll be your escort until you die in the Lower Level.”

The Janzer extended his hand. Brody moved on with Tyler through the corridor.

The letters and arrows swam together, then apart in the wall as if a stream flowed behind them. Something approached.
A beast!
Brody fell against the wall.

“Stay back!” He held up his palms and closed his eyes. He opened them. Nothing there.

Tyler injected him with a violet fluid, and his senses normalized. He saw the words, the arrows. An exiled Beimenian with brittle bluish-blonde hair and a black bot walked toward them. She stared at him, face empty, her skin paler than the walls. Her head swiveled as she passed. The bot with her nudged her and she turned abruptly.

Tyler led Brody to the right. They walked for a time. He felt strangely calm.

“Here it is. Your itinerary is on your cot. Follow it precisely. I’ll be waiting for you. You don’t want to risk censure.” Tyler waved its hand over the door. The joints turned and screeched as if not used in a hundred years.

Brody entered, observed a cot, toilet, and stone sink, wondered if this was all somehow not happening, if perhaps he was in an insomniac haze, like he was so often in the commonwealth.

The door slammed and locked with a
ker-slink
, waking him.

Dark blue phosphorescent light brightened in the upper corners of his unit.

Brody knelt and bowed and closed his eyes.
Gods,
protect me from this Region 7 atmosphere and give me strength to stay alive long enough to see my twins, and should I never hold them in my arms again, gods, protect them, guide them, see to it they live a life more honorable than mine.

On his cot lay folded clothing, enough for a few days, and a paper scroll.

The digital clock on the cracked wall read 1647.

What’re you waiting for?

Brody turned, for he heard a voice, subtle, feminine, peaceful, but how could he have missed her? Impossible. He examined the room. It barely fit one person, let alone two. It was like a tomb.

Are you waiting for me?

The tone was more distinct. He recognized it.

Why do you blame me?

Brody closed his eyes.

This isn’t real
, he told himself.
None of this is real
. He inhaled the stale air and held it in as long as he could. He let it out and, with a sob, moved along the bare wall. He grasped stone-gray pants and a matching hooded shirt and put them on. At the door, he punched the digital button labeled CONTROLLER.

The door groaned open, and Tyler was waiting. Its eye slit glowed brighter, and Brody expected it to speak. It instead grabbed his arm and led him to the archway that opened into the main hall. It was larger than Brody imagined, taller than Palaestra Hall and wider than Hammerton Hall, but the walls and ceiling were bare of Granville syntech. Thousands of exiles, dressed similar to him, sat around tables, though unlike him, most all had porcelain skin. The squeaking of boots and scraping of chairs were all he heard.

Hullo
, Brody tried to say, but he found that he couldn’t.
Odd
, he thought.

Tyler took him to the elevators after finding the one labeled OFFICE OF THE CONTROLLER. Holographic burning salamanders slithered around it.

Brody stopped and turned. Tyler grabbed his arm to pull him in the elevator but Brody broke free. Damy dangled from one of the rafters by her left hand. Her dark blue hair flowed around the shoulders of her gown. She looked beyond Brody, as if he wasn’t there.

Brody couldn’t move.
Damy?

Now his fellow exiles turned in unison as if they and he were part of a silent pantomime.

Janzers surrounded him. Where had they come from? He shook them off and clenched his fists and teeth.

He tried to call to Damy,
Why are you here?

Why couldn’t he speak? He lunged toward her, but the Janzers corralled him and tied his arms and hands and legs.

You think I betrayed you.
Damy’s voice.

I went to the forest, I tried to save you!

I heard you, heard your doubts.

I killed Verne for you!

No, my darling, you killed Verne for yourself.

A Janzer stuck Brody with a syringe.

His vision blurred.

I’m sorry …

He passed out.