And Then, The World Ended

Chapter 25 Noah

The days drag on, blurring together in a haze of monotony. I go through the motions of teaching, trying to ignore the growing unrest that permeates the atmosphere of our underground city. The leaders' promises of equality ring hollow as the divisions between tiers become more pronounced.

In Tier 5, people are barely scraping by. Rations are meager, work hours are long, and living conditions are cramped and dreary. Each day I see more drawn, exhausted faces passing in the corridors. There are whispers of sickness due to poor nutrition and lack of medical care. My heart aches for these people, many of whom lost everything in the earthquake before finding precarious refuge here.

Tier 4, my own tier, is also showing signs of strain. At first, we were grateful for the relative comforts - small private rooms, decent food, access to entertainment and recreation. But over time, the mood has soured. The work we do seems increasingly pointless, just tasks to keep us busy. The food has declined in quality and variety. Promised upgrades, like access to gardening spaces, never materialized. There is a feeling of being stuck, of tedious days with no hope for improvement.

In contrast, life in Tier 3 rolls on smoothly. With admin roles, technical jobs, and teaching positions, these residents want for little. Their quarters are spacious, their food plentiful and fresh. They have access to gyms, lounges, and recreational facilities that make life not just bearable, but enjoyable. Watching them return from their short work days, I feel a twinge of resentment at this modest middle class existence.

But none live in more luxury than the Tier 2 elite. These influential figures want for nothing, their every need and desire accommodated. I did not have access to the higher tiers, but had heard accounts from V, who was employed in the upper echelons. Hayes also gives me glimpses of their opulence when he visits. Lavish banquets, exclusive entertainment, servants attending to their every whim - it's a world apart from the increasing deprivation of the lower tiers.

The greatest mystery surrounds the Tier 1 inner circle. Their activities are largely unknown to the rest of us. Even Hayes has no access after declining his offer to transfer, his father disappearing for long stretches to undisclosed locations. However, rumor speak of indulgence and extravagance, with resources funneled for their enjoyment and gain. It's clear that equality is just a pretense - the class divisions have carried over even through apocalypse.

The outbursts start small - complaints over ration sizes, disputes about work assignments and conditions. The leaders are dismissive, attributing it to a period of adjustment. But the demonstrations slowly grow in frequency and intensity.

One day after teaching, I see a crowd gathered in the Level 5 common area. Their faces are tense, bodies coiled with a simmering anger. "More food!" they chant in unison. "Better treatment!" A few hold hastily scrawled signs demanding change. Security officers watch warily but don't yet intervene.

A few days later, there is an uproar in the Level 4 cafeteria. People overturn tables and hurl trays on the floor. "We deserve better than this slop!" someone yells. The crowd takes up the cry, voices ringing with frustration. Hayes and I back away, unnerved by the barely contained fury.

Whispers circulate about an upcoming large-scale protest. The leaders issue stern warnings about "maintaining order for the good of all." But their platitudes do nothing to address the legitimate grievances. I sense the protesters' courage growing, their resignation turning to purpose.

The day arrives, and the atmosphere is electric with nervous anticipation. A crowd gathers in the Level 5 common area, their numbers larger than ever. Hayes grips my hand tightly as we join the back of the throng. For the first time, I see residents from other levels also mixing into the crowd - a few from Level 4, some administrators from Level 3. We are here as allies, to lend support and strength.