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Artist: IGYX arts (https://vk.com/igyx.arts)
This is a translation from Russian by KingShisui (http://archiveofourown.org/users/KingShisui/profile)
What do you need to know first of all when you dare to go outside? That's right – weather forecast. At least that's how people called it earlier. Now the concept of "weather" lost its original meaning. But at the same time "forecast" gained much more importance than it had in the past.
'Today a high concentration of hydrogen sulphide is to be observed in the air. We advice you not to leave your flats without filters of the B-type!' A girl in a panoramic mask, respirator and a puffy, almost dollish dress, spangled with white beads, flitted on the big black and white screen. 'Particular men of fashion can use the C-type.' She held in hands two at first glance absolutely equal respirators, but anyone who watched the morning program (in other words – everyone) knew the difference perfectly well.
One-three-seven drearily drew from a shelf with lined up respirators of different types the one he needed. He pulled it on right after the panoramic mask, slipped on the heavy hood of the black jacket and only then allowed himself to walk into hermetic corridor and pushed the exit button.
'Please check whether you have put on the respiratory protective equipment,' there was heard an electronic voice.
'Checked.'
'Are you confirming that the protective equipment is on and capable of working?'
'I confirm.'
'Please step away from the door. Depressurization can entail slight change of pressure...'
'Yeah, yeah, let me out already,' the boy grumbled with asperity. Not that he wanted so much to get to work, but he wasn't eager to stay at home either.
He began to notice lately that the surroundings depress him. The walls seemed to be pressing One-three-seven from all sides. He felt as if he was a locked up in a box duffer with oxygen running out. Only instead of a box there was a city. The whole underground city.
Finally the door of his dwelling moved to the side with a hiss, giving One-three-seven the opportunity to go outside. If you could call it like that, for sure. Because no matter where he was: in the room or in the city, the walls were still around him. Brick or stone.
'What is it like to live under the limitless skies, I wonder...' The boy asked himself that question since childhood, since he came across one of those useless books that told about former surface and were, as society claimed, of no value for people of new generation. Blue sky, white clouds, black firmament, sparkling stars. All of this sounded as good as some fantastic story. Maybe the text in that useless book was one? Maybe the world with high skies never existed? But still One-three-seven wanted to believe that there was something more than just brick walls and low, dismal ceilings that met every eye in the city.
