The smooth walls of the bunker shimmered bluish—all because of the lighting meant to imitate daylight. The damp air carried the slightest sound perfectly, spreading it over great distances. Right now, in these underground shelters and warehouses preserved since the Third Interplanetary War, emptiness reigned.

  However, this was only how it seemed at first glance. Soon a sharp clang of a slamming door struck from deep within the corridor, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps that seemed to hammer nails into the floor.

  Now voices began echoing off the metal walls. One was desperate, the second—iron-irritated, with a shade of eternal contempt.

  "Who do you think you are?!" one of the voices cried out in complete frenzy and oblivion. "You're not alone here, and you have no right to ignore the reasonable arguments of others!!!"

  After these words, the voices fell silent for a time; only footsteps remained. Several people emerged from around the corner. The one walking in front wore a black cloak. Because of the lighting, his pale face seemed bluish, and his gray eyes gleamed like metal. Just behind him, to the right, trying to stay at the same level, another person almost ran—unremarkable, slightly disheveled. On the left side walked a tall person with long reddish-golden hair gathered in a ponytail; in the lamplight, his face seemed somewhat greenish. Several more followed behind.

  As soon as the last remark rang out, the leader of the "procession" stopped. Staring ahead and not even looking at the one who had shouted—and it was the unremarkable person on the right—he said:

  "Who do I think I am? For you right now, the more relevant question is who you think you are."

  An ominous silence hung in the air. In the emotionlessly spoken words, one could feel irritation bordering on fury.

  Suddenly the speaker turned around.

  "Kael, step back."

  The red-haired person silently retreated to the wall. Even in the semi-darkness, his pupils contracted beyond recognition, and his fingers kept producing a nervous cracking sound.

  "I'm afraid our notions of reasonableness differ somewhat," the man in black then said.

  Not even a second passed before the bunker walls rang with a sudden scream transitioning into wheezing. The unremarkable person who had been walking on the right and had thrown out such a careless statement now became the most remarkable of all—his body suddenly took the form of a sack, collapsing to the floor; only the spine remained intact, and consequently, the neck. He didn't stop screaming; his burst capillaries visibly stained the whites of his eyes red.

  After lying like that for some time, he finally fell silent—the end of his suffering was marked by a light crack in his neck.

  "Disgusting... Where did such a one even come from."

  "Gil, you could have simply put him in his place," Kael said when he and the man in black were left alone.

  Gil looked at him with an uncomprehending gaze.

  "People like him have no place," he said then. "Especially not in the Organization."

  "I just wanted to add that your cruelty increasingly frightens people away."

  "I don't care about that. I don't demand any special treatment; just that they obey unquestioningly. And that is assured to me anyway, given my superabilities. Besides, this case is especially egregious."

  "Why? Wasn't it just simple arrogance?"

  "No. This person completely lacked a sense of hierarchy—I've noticed this about him before. I've emphasized the importance of hierarchy in the early stages more than once, not to mention our current state of struggle. If a person is above you, you should feel it in your skin. You might say I not only eliminated a nagging problem but also saved him from subsequent torment."

  After a brief pause, he added:

  "And you've been asking too many unnecessary questions lately."

  "I don't want to irritate you. It's just that sometimes it's important for me to understand."

  "Kael. You know my principle—in this life I do either what I want or what I consider my duty. Often these coincide. I believe with your brains, that's enough to figure it out."

  ***

  Rait woke up completely broken. Although the soft light of the alarm clock along with unobtrusive sounds affected his psyche as soothingly as possible, his internal state was completely shattered. Mumbling, as usual, regrets that he still hadn't died, Rait took a deep breath and forced himself to drag his body out of bed.

  He couldn't remember when he had last felt presence. His presence in this world. In other words, when he last had a sense of awareness. This cog had been turning by inertia for a long time; true, what inertia definitely couldn't provide was social progress. Being an eighteen-year-old young man, Rait was still studying in the 10th grade of general education school number 666.

  Here he was dragging himself to the same place again. Well, it’s nothing—the days pass quickly if you read, watch animation, or draw during lessons. If, of course, they don't seat you at the first desk, where annoying classmates stare with their evil all-seeing eyes, constantly seeking reasons for mockery and bullying. Rait, despite having enormous experience with the latter, could never get used to it.

  Here he approached the checkpoint. Now he needed to open his eye wide—despite the fact that due to eternal lack of sleep they turned into slits in the morning—for iris scanning. This was always a difficult task.

  He stood like that for several minutes until he realized there was no result. Puzzled, Rait dialed the emergency call code—if he didn't come again today, they'd definitely summon him to the principal, and his mother would scream even more than usual... The security robot spoke in a polite female voice: "An emergency situation has been declared due to heightened terrorist danger. If you are a student, please remain at home."

  "Terrorist danger?.. Lo and behold..."

  Instantly Rait was delighted that there would be no school in the near future. Almost skipping, he rushed home. "I'll take my drawing, go far, far away into the park, there'll be no one there..."

  "Or maybe walk around the subway? Maybe I'll run into a terrorist attack... Although, no. If my arms and legs get torn off and I'm still alive, things will get really bad."

  As soon as Rait crossed the threshold of his home, his mother pounced on him. He could never get used to this impulsiveness of hers, just as he couldn't get used to his classmates' mockery. For several seconds she stood, clutching him tightly; then abruptly recoiled—her face took on an angry expression, and such a smirk appeared on it that Rate reacted almost physically—an icy cold ran down his spine. As a rule, this boded nothing good.

  "You're deliberately getting on my nerves, aren't you? You want me to drop dead sooner? You dream of tormenting me! What the hell?!"

  "W-what's wrong? I went to school..."

  "Idiot, as if you don't know they're closed because of terrorists! Want to die, do you? You know, it's actually painful—turning into bloody pulp when bones break and skin burns and peels off, and instead of your mug there's only a charred skull!"

  "Why, why is she telling me this..." – Rait thought.

  On the word "skull" she suddenly grabbed him by the hair, then gave him a sharp slap, so that tears spurted from his eyes.

  He tried to open the door to the entrance, but it was no use.

  "Where are you going? Running away from your mother again? Who needs you out there?!"

  "I need to do my homework..." he said quietly.

  Sometimes this trick worked.

  "Idiot... Just an idiot. Doesn't even hear what he's being told."

  "Will it not work?..." – Rait thought feverishly.

  "Go ahead, do it."

  Mentally thanking all the gods, Rait slipped into his room. Sitting at his desk and concentrating on looking at the screen, he listened as his mother, getting ready for work, muttered that she would have been better off having a girl who clearly would have had more brains than this soulless machine.

  When she finally left, he sighed with relief. In anticipation of a day full of meaning, he took out his drawing.

  "Listen, what do you think about this new threat?"

  Two schoolgirls were walking cheerfully down the street with ice cream in their hands; the atmosphere of playing hooky invigorated them, running pleasantly down their spines.

  "Damn, Lara. You're all killing me with this. Well, it's a threat — and so what? How many have there been and how many more will there be? When will they finally get to our boring place..."

  Both laughed.

  "But they say these are somehow special. Like actually a new species of people. Don't look at me like that! I remember we were told they're some kind of religious fanatics. But damn, after that eyewitness report from the Third Zone, you know..."

  "Did he not die?"

  "I don't know, but he managed to tell what he saw. Their words about being superhumans aren't entirely groundless."

  "I want that kind of weed too," the other girl snorted. "They say there's a lot of it in the Third Zone..."

  "Yeah, damn. Okay, never mind..."

  "As far as I'm concerned," she licked her ice cream, "just plain idiots. The second coming of that, what's his name... anyway, I skipped history that day, but you're smart, you get it."

  Lara's companion often skipped classes, and it was a real shame. Because if she had gone to school today, she would have learned that an emergency had been declared and that leaving the house was strongly discouraged.

  And what happened next wouldn't have occurred, namely: the ground beneath the girls collapsed, and they fell mixed with chunks of tile and concrete into the subway, being ground up by debris during their fall.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The subway in this place was very close to the surface.

  "Listen very carefully. I'm about to tell you something that is now directly, unfortunately, connected to your future."

  The children were sitting quietly already. Classes in schools had resumed—the terrorist attacks had moved to other districts, plus their perpetrators willingly entered negotiations, putting forward their demands.

  The speaker hesitated a bit, pondering where to begin.

  "I think," he finally began, "that for you right now the most important thing is personal safety: yours and your family's."

  From some corners of the large oval hall, barely suppressed sobs could be heard.

  "So then," the man continued; for some reason part of his face began to tremble. "There are expected to be no terrorist attacks in our city in the near future. If you see someone from the Organization on the street—doing anything is useless: you cannot protect yourself in any way, even if you're fully armed."

  The principal standing nearby coughed.

  "Oh yes, these are schoolchildren... Come on, pull yourself together. You're the city mayor, yet you're acting like a rag."

  "But they generally don't walk the streets," he added; the stupidest smile of all his public appearances stretched across his face.

  He desperately shuffled his fingers. He paced back and forth. There had been no time at all to prepare a speech right after his wife's death.

  Then he stopped, sharply turned his gaze to the hall and blurted out:

  "In short. This is the Fourth World War. Understand? War!"

  A wave of horror seemed to pass through the hall.

  "However, after war at least there are survivors. You've all studied the Third Interplanetary, right? And the Second, the First..."

  The honor students clearly didn't expect they'd have to recall everything they'd memorized in connection with this.

  "But here..." the mayor suddenly began to smile widely, "there won't be any living people left. Because the Organization only has temporary conditions. No, this isn't the Fourth World War, no... This is the First World... genocide."

  It was only later, after the hysterical mayor was led out of the hall, that the children were explained the situation more comprehensibly. About the genocide, of course, he had exaggerated a bit. The Organization, which had already wiped the Third Zone along with its inhabitants off the face of the planet—this district had been the most backward—didn't actually intend to destroy everyone. There were very few people in it; in the early stages of building a new state, they needed people with brains. The terrorist attacks were a means of pressuring the government: they needed leadership positions too.

  Rait now walked on pins and needles. He was too accustomed to not participating in real life, and here something incredible had crashed down on his head.

  They easily defeated the First Zone's army when the latter, for economic interests, sent reinforcements to the Third. The First Zone! The very one that became key to victory in the Third Interplanetary, the one that for many was the promised land. In the battle between high-tech weapons and what these people were given by nature, the second won. The latter descended like a natural disaster that can be predicted but cannot be prevented.

  Rait himself didn't know why this fact so fascinated him. Actually, he considered it quite logical that people of a higher order should displace the lower ones. The only pity was... that the lower one in this situation would include himself.

  The Organization interested him for another reason too. Throughout his life he had felt a certain hierarchy permeating society. And it wasn't based on social position and not always on merits and level of intellect—though the latter, he felt, was often inherent in people of higher order. However, there was something else—given from birth; this couldn't be achieved in one lifetime and couldn't be taken away—but it was immediately felt by similar people. Something like a more developed spiritual organization, the presence of an unconditional striving for the lofty—as well as lofty aspirations—albeit sometimes subconscious or suppressed. Naturally, such people were more self-sufficient; they often used society as a tool or as a theatrical stage for the spectacle of their own lives. However, this didn't mean they didn't need support; just as it didn't mean that lofty aspirations always went on the horizontal scale toward the plus side.

  And now Rait was interested in whether people from the Organization possessed these qualities. If yes, and moreover had such outstanding abilities—well then, goodbye, petty people. Make way for those who are higher.

  "Bastards, let them get out of here! What makes them better than me?"

  "Come on, stop talking about it already, stop!..." came the girl's tearful response to her classmate's sharp statement.

  "Who are they?! My father didn't fight in the Third Interplanetary for some rogues to show up later!" he wouldn't calm down.

  The girl was already crying out loud; her friend ran up to her, starting to comfort her.

  A small group of young people heatedly discussed the Organization's actions; this one, shouting, was apparently the instigator.

  "Hey, moron, why are you silent?"

  The question was addressed to Rait, who, as usual, had huddled in the corner of the classroom behind the last desk.

  "What the hell does he want from me." – he thought.

  "O-o-oh, just look at that expression! He looks like a terrorist himself, doesn't he?"

  Delighted with the new idea, people approached one after another.

  "Always looks like this," he looked from under his brows.

  "Maybe he's a spy, eh?" someone suggested.

  "Yeah, and will kill us all."

  "Why haven't I killed you yet then?" Rait couldn't restrain himself; truth be told, he was surprised by this fact himself.

  "Listen, let's help him unlock his superabilities, eh? Like in movies."

  Everyone enthusiastically picked up the idea. It was a pitiful spectacle: they had always treated the quiet, secretive Rait with extreme hostility, but now, united by a common disaster, they descended on him with double fury. As if he himself weren't human. As if the same fate didn't await him as everyone else.

  One of the girls came up and hit Rait on the ear. It hurt; he flinched and looked at her with hatred.

  "What do you want from me?"

  However, he remained unanswered. She was grabbed by the arm by that instigator guy.

  "Well, well, calm down. Not in the classroom," his face twisted into a nasty grin.

  The irritation on the girl's face changed to an understanding smile.

  A chill ran down Rait's spine. Maybe leave class early?.. No, they wouldn't give up on their plan anyway; it would only egg them on more. They'd organize a hunt for him…

  Following the chill, fury overwhelmed him. "Who do they think they are. Who do they think they are compared to me. I'm not only not lower than them; I'm higher. If they put their social status above my inner qualities and creative abilities, they're simply nobodies."

  Rait sighed. He already knew how this would end.

  When he left school, a group of people was already waiting for him in the back yard. He slowly headed toward them, trying his best to breathe evenly.

  Without any preamble, that same girl ran up to him, intending to punch him in the gut. However, he managed to dodge, pushing her with all his might into the crowd. At that moment, a guy appeared out of nowhere behind him; he hit Rait on the back of the head and pushed him in the back with his foot, so that his spine crunched, arching.

  "Who do you think you're raising your hand against, piece of shit?" the guy asked while Rait, having lost his balance, was falling to the ground.

  "Look how aggressive he is. Even fights back. Weren't you taught how to behave in civilized society?" asked the one who had started all this, and kicked the prone Rait.

  Only by miracle did he manage to curl up before the kick, so that it hit his back. If it had hit his ribs…

  However, Rait wasn't planning to give up yet; especially since anger overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to vent it as soon as possible. As soon as the offender pulled his leg back, the prone one, not waiting for the next blows and ignoring the pain due to the adrenaline rush, swiftly rolled to the side, pushing off from the ground with all his might with his hands and feet. Then just as sharply he jumped to his feet—less than a second passed; in the jump he turned back to prevent a possible new attack.

  However, his enemies looked mocking.

  "What, already getting ready to run?"

  Rait shook his head negatively. He had long noticed a large thick stick lying not far from a tree, near which he now stood. It was apparently a branch broken off by a hurricane wind; it was quite fresh and fairly thick in girth.

  He began backing toward the tree. The gang leader chuckled evilly and walked toward him with quick steps. Rate jumped toward the branch, grabbed it and stared into his offender's eyes.

  "P-ff, what a freak. That's not fair," he said. "People want to talk to you, and you're grabbing sticks, you primitive human..." he snorted.

  "Yeah, he should be kept in a zoo!" exclaimed the relentless girl with an evil grin.

  Rait's face remained stony.

  "Normal people don't conduct negotiations like this," he said. "So I believe I have the right to take a stick when dealing with filthy dogs."

  "How dare you talk to me like that, you bastard?!"

  The instigator was now torn between two options. On the one hand, he really wanted to tear Rait's throat out. On the other hand, he understood that a stick was a serious thing.

  "I see you're hesitating?" Rait smirked, twirling the stick in his hands. "What, got scared?"

  He himself didn't know where he was going with this. But the words and actions of his enemies echoed in his head; he had to, he was obliged to respond. Otherwise this would torment him for a long time.

  This was the last straw. Not wanting to appear a coward in the eyes of his comrades, and even being egged on by the girl—"Come on, kick ass"—the leader began slowly approaching Rait. After all, this weak bastard couldn't do anything to him, the undisputed leader.

  Coming very close, he suddenly lunged, intending to tear the stick from his opponent's hands. However, he hoped in vain to catch him by surprise: Rait had long foreseen such a turn. Therefore, the latter simply jumped aside, then struck with all his might at his opponent's legs with the stick.

  What happened next, he didn't expect. The stick broke in two; the sudden squeal of the guy could probably be heard even beyond the school yard. He was rolling on the ground and wouldn't stop screaming.

  Because of these piercing sounds drilling into his head, Rait couldn't even feel triumph. Suddenly he was overcome with fear: if there was something serious there—and judging by everything, there was definitely a crack or even a fracture—they'd expel him. And put him in jail. Even though he wasn't even guilty. But who could you explain that to…

  "Why. Why do I always get into trouble." – Rait thought. He stood there not knowing what to do—his face began to burn. The others were also confused; then one from the group ran up to the prone one.

  "What, what's wrong with you?!"

  "Call an ambulance, idiot..." the one hissed out with difficulty.

  This incident cost Rait's mother a fine. There was a long investigation; of course, Rait was recognized as the instigator—his classmates did their best to describe the vicious attack in all its colors. Only a certificate from a psychiatrist saved him from a juvenile detention center.

  He remembered that day for the rest of his life. At first he didn't even want to come home—it would be a death sentence. However, then he remembered that he had an unfinished drawing that was clearly worth completing. And where else would he live; and he couldn't even die…

  Learning what had happened, his mother screamed. And how she screamed. That Rait was an aggressive animal, a criminal face; wants her death, disgraces her, would have been better if he'd never been born and all that. But most of all, of course, it hurt her that because of this fine she wouldn't be able to go on vacation. This was unforgivable: she dragged Rait by the hair, hit him in the face. And then he involuntarily cried out when she touched his back. Demanding he lift his shirt and seeing a terrible bruise, she instantly changed her expression. Tears almost spurted from her eyes; she wailed, lamenting: "My poor son"—and all that. Rait just swallowed nervously and waited with horror for what would happen next. She ran out, returned with ointment. The next second she was already rubbing the ointment into Rait's back, alternately sobbing and cursing him again; during the cursing she pressed very hard, and he could barely restrain himself from crying out again.

  Rait wasn't destined to fall asleep that night. He was overwhelmed by a whole stream of feelings; inside it was as if an empty channel had formed, through which hopeless despair walked like a whistling, piercing wind. He didn't understand why all this was necessary.

  Unable to bear it any longer, he got up. Got dressed and climbed out the window—fortunately, they lived on the first floor. He took something like a motorcycle from the garage—only it was silent and moved without touching the ground. He rode to a small park near their house, put his finger to the identifier—all officially registered citizens had access there regardless of the time of day; left his vehicle and entered.

  Walking a bit, he found himself in a small forest. The wind rustled the tree crowns; silence all around, and the sky, against which occasionally falling leaves flew, seemed red.

  Here Rait couldn't restrain himself. Falling onto the damp autumn grass, he sobbed out loud.

  "How I want them all to die!!! All, all, all!!! All!.." he screamed into the wet leaves, beating the ground with his hands. "Die..."

  "Although..." here his tears suddenly dried up. "They're going to die anyway." He remembered the Organization and unexpectedly for himself laughed. Then he sat up, threw his head back and screamed: "Kill them all!!! And me, kill me too!!!"

  Rait felt incredibly warm inside. Such a soothing peace spread through his body that he bowed his head, folded his hands on his chest and sat like that, absorbing this grace that had appeared from who knows where.

  He sat like that until the sound of footsteps behind him distracted him from his focused meditation.