On the dirty, gray wall hung a piece of paper displaying the doctor's office hours. From Monday to Friday, people from the Lower Level could schedule appointments only between 9:00 AM and 12:00 PM. Meanwhile, for those from the Upper Level, the office was available 24/7. Because of this, Ferrick had to take time off work, which did not sit well with his boss, Mr. Sorvigoh.
- Are you listening to me? - asked the irritated doctor.
- Yes, yes - Ferrick replied.
- Your lungs are in exceptionally mediocre condition. That's why you're having these uncontrollable coughing fits. Do you smoke?
- Like everyone else.
- You need to cut down on tobacco. For now, you're fine, but if your condition worsens, I'll have to notify the authorities and request that your status be changed from Lower to Disposable. Do you understand?
- Yes, absolutely. I need to cut back on smoking, or else I'll be reassigned to the disposable group.
- Excellent. In that case, I wish you a good day. Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
As he stepped into the hallway, Ferrick noticed the crowd waiting for their appointments. There were more than forty people in the waiting room, each with a different ailment. Contact with them was risky – just a moment was enough to catch something dangerous. Without thinking twice, Ferrick decided to leave the clinic as quickly as possible and return home.
As soon as he opened the door, the stench of mildew and filth hit him in the face. It was overwhelming, almost dizzying, but Ferrick had long since gotten used to it. He stepped outside and headed to the right, toward the end of the street where the tram stop was located. Along the way, he passed massive, gray apartment blocks and tangled tracks that had long since ceased to be used – rusting and abandoned, as if no one cared about their fate.
The most peculiar sight, however, was the lack of windows in the buildings. Ferrick knew this was due to air pollution. Those who had windows had long since bricked them up to protect themselves from the toxic smog.
When he reached the stop, he sat down and reached into the pocket of his brown jacket for a cigarette. He was aware that the doctor had advised him to cut back on smoking, but who cared? One cigarette had never hurt anyone, and he needed a way to unwind.
He glanced down at the tracks and observed the place where the Disposable Level was supposedly located. He had heard a lot about it. Damp, dark, and filled with the ruins of a former greatness. No electricity, but plenty of rats and bacteria. It was home to those the world no longer needed, waiting for their inevitable end. Most of them were terminally ill or mentally impaired, but also political dissidents, criminals, and murderers. There was no law there. Everyone did as they pleased. Some might call it freedom, but Ferrick knew that a lack of control was the beginning of madness.
He raised his gaze upward, trying to catch a glimpse of the Upper Level, but it was impossible. It was too far away and blocked by metal grates that effectively separated it from the rest of the world. People said that up there, at the very top, prosperity reigned. That was where bureaucrats, lawyers, and those in power worked. They had access to the latest technology, well-stocked stores, and the legendary Bubbles – special zones filled with plants, providing clean air. Residents of different levels could not travel between them unless they were police officers or administrative members. That was why there was 24-hour medical care on the Lower Level in case of emergencies that prevented transport to the upper part of the city.
Ferrick was on the Lower Level – a place of gray dullness. Apartment blocks, factories, and useless, scattered tracks. Life here was average. Not the worst, but monotonous. The biggest problem was boredom and the ever-present smog. The rest? Well, one could live with it.
In the distance, he spotted an approaching tram. He quickly finished his cigarette, tossed the stub at his feet, and stepped into the old, battered machine.