Prototype Dorian

8.

Four days before the Selection

Ryan leans against the elevator wall. His NovaTopian uniform creases along his elbows as he crosses his arms and grins at us. "So, Ground Earth, huh? How are you two feeling? Anxious? Excited?"

A moment of awkwardness lingers. Morgan's and my outfits are snug and casual, but our postures are far from relaxed. I'm nervous, and I can sense that Morgan is as well. I've never seen them this tight-lipped and somber before.

"Fine, I guess," I mutter. "I mean, we're just going to find a mechanic. We're not looking for trouble or anything."

"You never know. Trouble might want to look for you instead." Ryan digs into his pocket and takes out two small devices with a button in the middle. "This is a tracker. I'll have to leave you during my mission, so keep this with you and I can find you after. If there's trouble, clicking the button will notify me and I will teleport to your location as soon as I can."

Morgan and I grab a device each. It fits easily into my pocket.

"And you might already be feeling it now, but the air is going to be different as we go down." Ryan gestures around the elevator with his finger. I look around as if I can spot the changes in the air. Obviously, I couldn't.

"As much as the Tower tries to regulate the circulating air," he continues, "there's still a big difference. So, unfortunately, you're going to suffer from what we call high-altitude de-acclimatization syndrome. The symptoms include fatigue and headache. Sánchez, you've encountered this when you first entered the Tower, right?"

Morgan nods stiffly. Their head looks like it wants to disappear into their black hoodie. "It... took me about a month to get used to it."

One month? That explains their uneasiness. And now I'm even more worried about this trip to Ground Earth.

"You're physically stronger now, Sánchez, so it won't be as much of a problem this time. But if you're feeling terrible," —Ryan tosses a bottle to Morgan— "take this. Acetazolamide. It can ease the symptoms."

The elevator lets out a soft ding, and the screen above the door changes its display.

'Level: 2,000–3,000'

A soft gasp escapes my throat. I've never ventured below the 3,000th floor of the Tower, and seeing the numbers drop from '3,000–4,000' makes my heart plunge.

Ryan lets out a whistle. "We're finally out of the highest quarter of the Tower. You still feeling okay, Lara?"

I gulp. "Y- Yeah..."

"Let's hope it stays that way. By the way," —there is an amused glint in his eyes as he peers at me— "since it's going to be your first time on Ground Earth, wanna take a guess as to what you'll see?"

"Uh..." I try to recall the lessons I had to take before I became a cadet. The bulk of my education covered the history of the six space shuttles, the construction of the Tower, and the founding of the NovaTopian Board of Directors as a new global government. Ground Earth was only ever briefly mentioned in relation to these topics, so I know little to nothing about it. I've always thought of it as something like a relic of the past, a civilization so far back in history that it was no longer relevant.

Of course, Ariandelle has also ranted to me countless times about Ground Earth's rampant violence and body anomalies. But I'm not sure I can trust her descriptions.

I glance at Morgan for support, but they are more interested in the elevator floor.

"M- Maybe," I start slowly, not wanting to say anything too wrong, "it'll be more run-down because they don't have bots around to fix things? And the Ground Earth dwellers may be, uh, different from us? Like, I don't know, some of them could have three arms or a third eye. Not that- Not that it's bad or anything..."