Kernel does not welcome outsiders.

  The moment I step off the train, the city swallows me whole. Smog chokes the air. Noise slams into me like waves, crashing over and over. Colors blur, faces meld, all spinning into a vortex that drags me deeper into the city’s gut. I stagger, trying to adjust to this endless whirlpool. Towering skyscrapers stretch high above, their shimmering lights flickering like false stars against a steel-gray sky.

  It’s so different from the prison of cold I left behind. Back there, silence was king, each sound a small reminder that I was still alive.

  But here, I’m just one voice out of thousands, smothered by the excess. I suddenly miss that quiet, the way it kept me on edge but somehow in control.

  For intelligible reasons, I stay away from the underbelly as long as I can. I blow through my meager credits on the cheapest places I can find in the more civilized districts, but it’s a losing battle. The View keeps flashing warnings about the obscene costs of living here.

  So, I had to choose.

  Mecanet demands five thousand for travel. A month in this place has drained me to nine. I can’t stay.

  "You were never meant for comfort," Illume's voice lingers, distant and hollow.

  Shelter is a luxury I can't afford. I go where life is cheap.

  Cracked sidewalks, layered in grime. Neon signs flicker in slow, dying spasms. The alleys twist endlessly—veins in a decaying body.

  I keep my hood low, my pace steady. My heart hammers when I pass a group, when whispers slither from the shadows.

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  At the corner market, a man bartered a slap to his own face for a half-spoiled loaf of bread. The vendor grinned, amused. "Another," he said, like a noble sealing a deal with blood.

  The man hit himself again.

  I guess that’s one way to get by.

  "A second slap for a second meal," Illume murmurs. "Tell me, Rain, how many would you take?"

  I swallow, my throat dry.

  None.

  Not one.

  But the thought lingers, sticky as hunger itself.

  Then, at the mouth of an alley, movement catches my eye—a gang of punks, the kind I’ve been avoiding since I got here. They’ve cornered a woman.

  She’s crying, her voice raw with desperation. No one stops. No one looks.

  The punks laugh, their leader circling her like a predator savoring its game. Then, for a brief moment, her eyes find mine—wide, pleading. A punk shifts, blocking my view.

  “So, Rain,” Illume howls, voice curling through my mind like smoke. “Going to be a hero?”

  I grip my coat tighter as the tyrant waves me off, dismissing me like I was never here.

  I’m no hero. This city would chew me up and spit me out if I got involved.

  “As I thought…”

  After wandering the tangled streets of the lower districts, I find a decrepit, inexpensive apartment building that looks like a stiff breeze could knock it over. The owner, a broad man with a bushy beard and a kind smile, greets me at the door.

  "It’s 1,600 Meccets for a year."

  My View translates that—four credits a night. Not a bad price. If things go smoothly, I’ll have plenty left for Mecanet.

  The man leans in, lowering his voice. "Tell you what. My girl just got married, so I’m feeling generous. What do you say to 1,200?" He grins.

  I don’t hesitate. "I’ll take it."

  He pats my shoulder. "Go rest for the night. We’ll handle the payment tomorrow."

  For the first time in weeks, my guard drops—just a little.

  Maybe this place isn’t all that bad.

  But in Kernel, kindness doesn’t last.

  A sharp knock rips me from sleep. The View flickers on, outlining the figure standing behind the door—a scrawny man with a form of a crooked door handle.

  "Time to pay up." He leans against the frame, rolling a coin between his fingers. "It’s one-point-six K."

  I frown. "The man downstairs said—"

  "The man downstairs is dead." His voice is flat, final. "Killed himself after some thugs messed with his daughter. Guess life’s tough all over, huh?" He chuckles, a sound empty of humor.

  Then, "Pay up."

  My fingers twitch.

  Messed with his daughter… It couldn't have been her from last night, could it? If I had stepped in—would things be different? Would she still be alive? Would he?

  Or would I be just another body in the gutter?

  "You already know," Illume sneers. "You’d be lying next to her, skin cold, mouth full of gutter water.”

  I clench my jaw. Shut up.

  "Go on. Say it."

  I transfer the credits.

  Better her than me.

  "That’s right."

  Do you think Rain will make it into Mecanet?