Doomsday Wonderland Vol. 14: Cloudwalk Heights [Complete]

1719: Lin Sanjiu's Desperation

Outside of private property, Cloudwalk Heights was a remarkably free world.

Lin Sanjiu found a door leading down from the rooftop. Even at dawn, it was open and accessible. After all, shared buildings and sky highways were treated like public ground; the people of Cloudwalk Heights believed no one had the right to block, close, or charge for access to them.

She was lucky; the door had the building's name on it. She remembered seeing it on the regional map. It was neither too far nor too close to the parking lot; she would need to cross at least four or five buildings to reach her craft.

As a communication system, Beacon-Wolf Signal likely had a registration hub in each district, just like the other major systems. If she could get back to her craft and fly to a different district's hub, it would be like adding an extra layer of security, putting her back in control.

But how could she get to her craft? She couldn't walk through the waking CBD district with her current appearance. If she did, the Shark Nexus would find her sooner or later. Could she find a disguise this early in the morning?

As she pondered this, she stepped through the door.

The stairwell wasn't the closed-off kind commonly found before doomsday. Stairwells had become essential passageways, so the walls had been opened up, and the stairs widened. The space between floors was flat and open, with clear visibility. Maintenance and modifications like these were usually handled by local posthuman organizations.

Posthumans in the post-doomsday world had adopted the concept of taxes. Organizations didn't charge entry fees for buildings they managed, but they did collect fees from merchants, residents, and smaller organizations.

She once asked Bee Sting what happened if an organization collected fees but didn't provide services. Bee Sting had shrugged as if the answer was obvious and said, "Then you move out! Cloudwalk Heights has district rankings for management quality. If your area ranks low, just move to a better one. No one can stop you. If people leave, the organization can't collect money anymore. They'd be foolish to run a one-time scam."

According to Bee Sting, popular areas like the CBD attracted more people, driving up management fees. Meanwhile, dangerous and dilapidated areas drew in those who were desperate for low-cost living, often attracting shady characters. Clearly, some economic principles held true even after doomsday.

As Lin Sanjiu feared, it was too early. The markets hadn't opened yet.

She wanted to buy a disguise, but the more urgently she needed one, the harder it was to find. She searched floor by floor, even daring to ask a few dubious-looking posthumans loitering around, but had no luck.

When she reached the eighteenth floor, she found rows of tents set up. Soft sounds of people turning over and snoring drifted out, then dissolved into silence.

A sign by the entrance and stairway informed her that the Night Shelter was open from 9 PM to 6 AM. During the day, it became a free market. Bringing your own tent cost 2 Fog Orbs, while renting one cost 4 Fog Orbs, and tent storage was 1 Fog Orb per week. A rope blocked the entrance, and an empty chair that was likely the administrator's sat nearby. Perhaps the administrator had dozed off, given the early hour.

Lin Sanjiu descended the stairs but suddenly turned back to the shelter.

She stepped over the rope and walked between the tents.

The tents were relics from before doomsday, collected from who knows how many worlds. They were worn by time. Some zippers could only close halfway, the pulls twisted and stuck. Through the gaps, she saw bare feet. Other tents were so thin and faded that their original color was gone, and silhouettes were faintly visible inside. Some tents were torn wide open; a man inside stirred at the sound of her footsteps, his snoring cut off. He rolled over and fell back asleep, his bare back exposed.

If the atmosphere in a large market was impoverished, this shelter couldn't even be described as poor.

She moved through the stench of sweat, leftover food, and grease. Each step felt like wading through thick, sticky water. In just a few meters, she glimpsed countless stomachs, calves, and feet.

Even though most people were still asleep, she could feel the shelter's pervasive heaviness, confusion, and exhaustion. Soon, they would wake up and begin their day's labor. She could already tell that almost all of them were ordinary humans.

When she reached the end of the row of tents, someone unzipped a tent and poked out a face, still chewing on breakfast. It took Lin Sanjiu a few seconds to recognize that it was a young girl. The girl looked so emotionally drained that even her surprise at seeing a strange posthuman seemed dull and muted, as if all her feelings were blurring together, leaving none distinct.

That impression was confirmed when Lin Sanjiu made her request.

"If you record a few sentences for me, just as I ask," she said, holding up her recorder, "I'll pay you ten red crystals."

The girl swallowed the rice ball in her mouth. The other half was still in her hand, giving off a plasticky shine that didn't resemble real white rice. Despite the simplicity of the job, she showed no excitement at the offer.

"What are red crystals?"

Lin Sanjiu hadn't expected that. Ordinary people who'd never left Cloudwalk Heights wouldn't know about Red Nautilus's currency unless they had a rare opportunity to learn. After an unexpected amount of explaining and convincing, the girl finally agreed.

Once everything was done and Lin Sanjiu was about to leave with the recorder, the girl suddenly asked, "Did you hire a servant?"

Lin Sanjiu turned back. The girl's expression was still blank, as though she hadn't considered that if Lin Sanjiu had a servant, she wouldn't need to ask a stranger for help.

"No," Lin Sanjiu said.

"If you have any anti-inflammatory medicine, I can work for you for five days. No more, because I haven't found a job for two days," the girl added after a moment's thought. "I'd rather work for a woman, even though female posthumans usually have more tasks."

She seemed completely unaware that her words might offend a potential employer.

Lin Sanjiu opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the right words. Instead, she left the girl a box of anti-inflammatory medicine she'd never had the chance to use. The girl eyed it suspiciously as Lin Sanjiu assured her she really didn't need a servant, then walked away. The administrator had returned, an old ordinary man. When he saw Lin Sanjiu crossing the rope, he seemed to immediately recognize what she was and bowed silently.

In every building, the closer you got to the smog layer, the worse the conditions became.

As Lin Sanjiu descended, the open spaces on each floor grew narrower, the stairways became more confined, and the sky highways outside disappeared. Though daylight had arrived, she felt as if she were sinking into the earth. Trash piled up in the stairwell corners, and the air reeked of urine. The presence of such signs meant that this area was no longer dominated by posthumans.

By the time she reached the lowest accessible floor—the fourteenth, just above the smog layer—she felt the presence of posthumans again. Thick iron plates reinforced the walls, handrails, and corridor entrances, and the windows were all sealed shut. At the next turn, the downward passage was blocked by concrete. A voice called out from a narrow hallway nearby, "Who's there?"

Ordinary people likely avoided the lowest floors because they couldn't fend off the duoluozhong that crawled up from the smog layer. This level had no living facilities, only patrols of alert posthuman guards.

A burly posthuman emerged, giving Lin Sanjiu a quick once-over before relaxing slightly.

"I thought it was another clueless ordinary person wandering down here," he said. "What do you need?"

Lin Sanjiu smiled at him. "There should be a lookout point for the guards here, right?"

The muscular posthuman nodded.

"Please show me the way. I want to jump down."