Chapter 7 #2
The boy practically snarled as he tried to tug free.
I gripped him for a moment longer before releasing him, so he knew who was in control.
He took off running through the crowd. Every town was the same, whether it was topside or underground.
If there were people, there was crime. Even Aberdeen had it—their white-collar crimes were just less honest.
I found a stand that wasn’t too busy, which meant either the food was crappy or the vendor was charging too much. I was hoping it was the former since I didn’t have a lot of chips on me. A wrinkled old woman sat behind a cauldron of stew. It didn’t smell great, but it didn’t smell horrible.
“How much for a bowl?” I asked.
She frowned, confused. “How much?”
I unbuttoned my pocket and pulled out a chip. “This should cover a bowl and some answers.”
She shook her head. “What do I need chips for? You work or barter for what you want.”
I held the chip, confused. In Dreswick, corporate chips were the best form of currency. I never would’ve guessed there’d be someone who wouldn’t take one. “All right. What do I got to do for some soup?”
Her eyes slitted as she looked me up and down. “You don’t have much on you, do you?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t think she was looking for one.
After a length, she said, “I owe Burgess. He wants his dishes washed. I’ll give you one full meal if you take on my bandy to Burgess.”
Washing someone’s dishes seems like a fair trade for a nourishing meal.
“I agree,” I said.
“You agree? So you accept the trade?”
“I accept, but the full meal includes all I can eat.”
She eyed me. “Fine. All you can eat…” She held up a finger. “For twenty minutes. Not a minute longer.”
I nodded. “Deal.” I was too hungry to continue our haggling. I looked around. “So where’s this Burgess guy?”
Her lips thinned. “Eat first. You look like you need a good meal.”
I nearly moaned in relief. “You could say that again.”
She grabbed a nearby bucket, flipped it over, and set it down next to her stand. “Sit.”
I obediently did as she instructed while she scooped a runny soup into a large stoneware bowl.
Once it was full, she broke off half of a loaf of dark crusty bread.
It took some effort on her part, and I wondered how many days old it was.
She handed me the bowl and bread, which felt as dry as it looked, and then she grabbed an old, bent spoon.
It must not have been clean because she wiped it on her dirty shirt before she handed it to me.
I tried not to cringe as I accepted it and wiped it on my own shirt.
I didn’t bother smelling the soup—it looked like it was safer not to—and dug right in.
Broth dribbled down my chin as I slurped the too-hot liquid, too hungry to care.
It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. It was bland with a woodsy, peppery flavor.
There was no meat, which was probably a good thing.
Instead, it had just enough root vegetables to be filling.
This food is surprisingly nutritious. Would you like me to detail the nutrients?
“I’m good,” I said, chewing on a small potato.
“What’s that you say?” the woman asked.
“This is good.”
“It is an old family recipe.”
I didn’t believe that for a second, not that I cared.
I broke off a piece of bread—it was hard as a rock—and dipped it in the soup.
That wasn’t long enough to soak through, so I left it there, absorbing the liquid, taking a couple more spoonfuls before having a bite of the soup-soaked bread, which neither improved nor worsened the overall taste.
This bread has minimal nutrients. I cannot identify the type of flour used in its composition.
Probably sawdust. But it was heavy, and I was really hungry.
I had a thousand questions for Byte, but I had to keep them to myself until I was alone again.
“I’ve been starving all day. Don’t know why,” I said with a full mouth, hoping Byte would understand.
I was used to hard work, but my body was trained for one big meal per day.
I was barely halfway through the day, and already I was starving like I’d skipped a full day and was late into the next one already.
“I can tell,” the woman replied while stirring the pot. “You’re going to eat me dry.”
Your body requires additional calories to cope with higher energy demands of two integrated entities. And, I have been pulling more energy than what would generally be required in order to conduct necessary repairs. Your body is in dire need of repairs—did you realize that?
Repairs? Was it talking about my coughing—well, lack of? Because I definitely noticed that .
I cleared out the bowl and took a second, which provided just enough broth for the bread she’d given me. When I finished, the woman held out a hand for the bowl. “Your twenty minutes are up.”
I handed it back to her, fuller than I’d been in a very long time, yet I think I could’ve managed a third bowl.
She then pointed to a door across from her stand. “That’s Burgess’s shop. Just tell him Annie sent you to cover her bandy.”
I stood to go, then paused. “Why’d you let me eat first? I could’ve just run off without paying. Still could.”
She chortled. “Sure, you could, and I’d make sure you’d be dead before dawn. Us crawlers got a code. We don’t break oaths given.”
They obviously had no problem pickpocketing, however. “Thanks for the food.”
“Don’t thank me. It was a fair trade.”
I gave her a nod and crossed the wide tunnel to the metal door that had no window. Next to the door was a sign that read, Burgess Deli . I knocked.
“We’re closed!” a man’s voice shouted from inside.
“Annie sent me to pay off her bandy,” I replied.
Several seconds later, the door opened, and an old, crippled man seemed to judge me before motioning me inside an actual cafe filled with tables and chairs. The rickety furniture looked secondhand, or even thirdhand, but it was more of a café than most restaurants aboveground in Dreswick were.
Fortunately, I do not detect danger here.
The old man who I assumed to be Burgess watched me with a wary scrutiny. “You’re going to take care of Annie’s bandy?”
I nodded. “I am. She said you need some dishes washed.”
His lips curled into a hint of a smile. “You could say that.” He began shuffling across the room that was twenty feet long and wide.
“I find it harder than ever to keep up nowadays. I need to get the cooking done, but that leaves me with loads of dishes. I used to be able to do it all, but truth be told, I just don’t have the energy for cleanup anymore. ”
My brow pulled together as he spoke. So far, I’d noticed that there didn’t seem to be a dialect unique to the Crawl. “You don’t sound like a low-towner.”
He chuckled. “That’s because I’m not, son. I came from Aberdeen, originally, before matriculating here.”
I cocked my head. “Why in the world would you ever leave Aberdeen?”
He eyed me. “You know how low-towners disappear, correct?”
I nodded.
“High-towners do, too, if they’re in the lower tiers and don’t agree with the corporate way of doing things.”
“I take it you didn’t agree.”
“I was twenty-one when I participated in a protest. My girlfriend disappeared first, and I knew if I didn’t make myself disappear, someone else would see to it soon enough.”
Twenty-one? “You’ve been down here a while then.”
“I have. And it’s not a bad place once you get used to it.” He seemed to think of something, and his features furrowed. “Though, I do miss sitting in the park at dawn, watching the sun rise.”
I couldn’t imagine living underground for the rest of my life.
It already felt claustrophobic. I’d come down here for the same reason as Burgess—would I be stuck down here forever to avoid the enforcers, too?
I cocked my head. “I don’t get it. They obviously know there are people like us in these tunnels, so why haven’t they sent down drones or even raided the place? ”
“That is because the Crawl is the one place on TerraSoft-11 that isn’t under corporate control.”
I chortled. “ All of this planet’s under corporate control.”
He shook his head. “Everything above ground might be, but not the Crawl. They tried to clear the tunnels once, twenty years back, before they decided the cost-benefit analysis wasn’t worth it.
That’s the Achilles’ heel of every corporation—everything is a cost-benefit decision for them.
If the powers that be out there decide you aren’t worth the risk of sending in enforcers they spent good money training, then they’ll write you off and let you be as long as you don’t cause them more trouble.
My personal theory is they see the tunnels as a cost-savings opportunity since it’s a place for undesirables to disappear, so enforcers don’t have to handle the disappearing themselves.
” He then motioned for me as he turned away and began shuffling toward the kitchen.
“Now, I’m tired, and you have a bandy to pay off. ”
He led me through a swinging door, and I stood gaping at the small kitchen. Dirty pots and pans were piled to nearly the ceiling on either side of the stove. Every inch of countertop space was covered by used plates, silverware, and glasses.
“That’s… a lot of dishes to clean,” I finally got out. “How’d you get so many dishes?”
“Chipped dishes and dented pans are easy enough to find in the Aberdeen recyclers.” Burgess grinned then.
“And I expect every single one of them to be spotless and stacked by the time you’re done.
” He pointed to a small trough under spigots.
“Sink’s over there. Ration the soap—that’s getting harder to come by lately.
When you’re done, ring the bell so I can check your work. ”
I saw the bell hanging next to the door as the old man left me alone.
I believe you got the bad end of that deal, Cal.