Chapter VI

Zeilendorf looked at Ferrick in astonishment. To be honest, he hadn't expected anyone to dare ask any questions. He was hoping to deliver his speech and then quickly move on to the next larger factory. Today, his schedule was packed, and he didn't particularly want to waste time on conversations. But once the question was asked, he had to respond to this awkward inquiry, even though it was not something he was looking forward to. Zeilendorf's gaze momentarily hardened, as though he was weighing every possible answer. Finally, he leaned forward, addressing the factory chief with attention.

- Who is this man? – he asked quietly, referring to Mr. Sorvigoh.

- This is Donald Ferrick. He's nothing special, but he does his job well. I'm truly sorry for his outspoken mouth – Sorvigoh replied, clearly distressed.

- Everything's all right – Zeilendorf straightened up and looked down on Ferrick. – How nice of you to ask that question. I admire your courage. It's rare in these times – he chuckled under his breath, adding a touch of irony.

Ferrick looked embarrassed and awkward. He didn't know why he had stepped out of the crowd with this question. Although it had been bothering him for a while, he wouldn't have dared to ask it directly to the ruler of the Lower Level before. But something had changed. It was as if something inside him had snapped, something he had been holding inside for a long time.

- As you all know, our beloved city of Trivara consists of three levels. The highest, the Upper Level, is where the elite live, the people in power, and those doing more advanced work. At the very bottom is the Disposable Level, where lawbreakers and those who no longer have a place in society, like the incurably ill, reside. We, indirectly, are on the Lower Level – the place where average citizens live, but are very important for the entire functioning of the city. It's because of you, the citizens of the Lower Level, that Trivara enjoys prosperity. You provide warmth through power plants, produce energy, create essential goods like light bulbs and porcelain. In fact, I even have one of those tea sets in my office. To answer your question, it's our level that feels the most pressure. We work the most, without breaks. It's because of us that everyone on the Upper Level can live in prosperity. There is one essential rule we must all understand. We down here work, and they up there manage. We cannot burden those on top because they hold power. They protect us and ensure that our state functions in harmony. We should be grateful for what they do for us. And that's why you, we – the citizens of the Lower Level – must bear slight consequences due to the ongoing the Last War, so that the Upper Level can win it as soon as possible. That is the way of things. I believe I've sufficiently explained the question that troubled you.

The cafeteria was filled with quiet murmurs. Everyone seemed to understand what Zeilendorf meant. Even if someone disagreed with him, no one – except Ferrick – dared to voice their opinion aloud. The atmosphere grew thicker by the second, as if everyone were waiting for further developments.

- But that doesn't change the fact that we're dying here from exhaustion – Ferrick responded. – Our lives are nothing but endless labor. If the work doesn't kill us, the diseases will. The Lower Level always gets hit the hardest, even though we are supposedly the most important. Years have passed, and nothing has changed. We still go through the same things our fathers and grandfathers went through. They had the same problems, and us? We have it even worse. It's all...

- I'm sorry to interrupt this excessively interesting monologue, but time is not on my side – Zeilendorf interjected, clearly impatient. – Could you get to the point? What exactly are you trying to say? What do you want to achieve? – he added, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.

Ferrick noticed the irritated look in his interlocutor's eyes, and suddenly the realization hit him about what he was actually doing. This conversation meant nothing. He wouldn't achieve anything with it, and would only expose himself to even bigger problems than he already had. His face turned pale. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he suddenly began to cough violently.

This time, the attack was particularly strong. He could feel the pain spreading through his entire chest, as if his lungs were about to shatter into pieces. Each breath felt like a knife cutting through him, and his body trembled under the force of the spasms.

- I... – Ferrick stopped, coughing several times. – Sorry for wasting your time with my foolish ramblings. Sometimes I talk too much – he added, trying to nervously laugh, though his voice was tired. – It's mainly because of my condition... My lungs are sick. I've been living in constant stress lately.

He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words in his mind.

- I'm really sorry again – he ended quietly and sat back down in his seat across from Irlop.

Zeilendorf appeared surprised but also intrigued. A sense of pride gleamed in his eyes – he knew he had just crushed his opponent. He felt like someone who could easily maintain control over the entire room, his ego towering over everyone present. Yet... something about this situation intrigued him. He never expected to meet someone from the Lower Level who would dare to question his words, even a little. It was new, unexpected. Maybe even – though he didn't want to admit it – worth paying attention to.

He turned and whispered something to one of his soldiers, then scratched his chin. His face took on a thoughtful expression, as if a storm of thoughts was raging in his head, thoughts that wouldn't let him rest. Finally, he broke the silence and turned directly to Ferrick.

- It's alright, my dear, and I'm sorry about your illness. Still, I'm glad I could have this brief but insightful conversation with you – Zeilendorf said, then turned his gaze toward the factory workers gathered. – Does anyone else have any pressing questions?

No one even moved. Everyone lowered their heads, as if they wanted to blend into the crowd and disappear from his view. They weren't about to draw attention to themselves – they knew that Zeilendorf had already spent more time with them than necessary. They didn't want to risk it, even though many questions swirled in their minds, questions they would likely never get answers to.

- Well then, thank you all for your visit. I hope the political situation will be resolved soon, and we can return to normal. You will be kept informed through your radios and tape recorders. Thank you again. Glory and honor to Caldoria! – Zeilendorf concluded, casting one last glance at the gathered crowd. His words, though full of apparent optimism, couldn't disperse the heavy atmosphere.

- Glory and honor! – everyone responded in unison, though without much enthusiasm.

These words sounded like a ritual. Learned over generations, but at this moment, they didn't carry the same weight as they once did.

Zeilendorf, Mr. Sorvigoh, and the soldiers left the cafeteria, and the atmosphere immediately changed to a deep silence. At first, no one knew what to do, but after a moment, everyone realized that their lunch break was ending in five minutes and started nervously finishing their portions of Fartofli. Ferrick had no appetite. He stared emotionlessly at the yellow mush with beans, as if he couldn't see it or taste it. It still hadn't fully sunk in what had just happened. He felt the eyes of others on him – everyone in the room was glancing at him furtively. It started to burn him, and drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. Fear gripped his body – what he had just done could cost him his life, or worse – exile to the Wasted Level. Why had he even asked that question? What had driven him to suddenly feel the need to speak up? He knew that such words could end in tragedy. Maybe he had risked it because he felt he couldn't endure the silence any longer, the constant suppression of his own thoughts and feelings. Or maybe it was just desperation – the need for someone in the government to finally understand that life on the Lower Level wasn't just work, but also pain and constant fear. Ferrick didn't know what to think about it all.

- Don't do that again – Irlop stated, with sorrow in his eyes.