Due to the encounter with the Rat-Olf, I was more cautious. I took lighter steps, I created noise distractions in other passages, and I crawled with my body as close to the walls as possible.

I was not taught to do these things, but somehow I knew to do them. It was common sense and yet not so common at the same time, but I knew survival like the back of my hand.

I wore the most common shoes in the slums so that nobody could distinguish my direction by relying on my prints.

Half the trip was made with a rock on my back, and the next half was made without. This was to stop the more determined trackers from recognizing my tracks based on the impressions I made with my weight.

I took every little precaution I could where I was allowed to. After all, I learned many things from Rocky including 'There was no shame to be weak, but it was shameful to think that because you are weak that you cannot do anything'.

After several minutes of crawling, I finally arrived at a dead-end that seemed both inconspicuous and innately disturbing. It was just one of those things that gave you a bad feeling originating from your gut.

The end of the corridor was a strange balance between 'I don't want to go there' and 'wait, what were we just talking about?'.

The angle of the wall, the well-rusted color of the pipes, the constant color shifts of the flickering lights above, the screechy sound of chain rattling like chalk against board, the occasional screeches of rats galore.

Every sound, feeling, and visual stimulation was manufactured in such a way that both the human and animal psyche would reject this location subconsciously.

It was just a place you would never want to approach on the off chance that you notice it.

Some things were just instinctively displeasing to mammals, and my parents took advantage of that psychological flaw.

I guess my parents were brilliant people, but I can't really recall much about them these days. The memories fade but some moments still appear in my dreams, but I try not to think about them too much.

Luckily, I can still remember that my parents were geniuses… or maybe I should say, unfortunately? Maybe if they weren't so brilliant they would still be alive. After all, nobody wants to kill dumb people.

… Well, dumb people don't usually survive in the slums so?...

Agree to disagree?

Shaking my head to get rid of the wayward thoughts, I approached the wall despite my innate discomfort.

I tapped the wall a couple of times and found a hallow sound in the otherwise strong metallic structure. I closed my eyes despite being able to see using the flickering lights.

Some colors, in specific patterns, could harm the mind, and that was exactly what the flickering lights did.

I always pretended I could not see for the entire journey or the lights would have caused me permanent brain damage by now.

Green, Red, Green, Blue, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Blue!

By the time you realize what the lights were doing, your mind would have already entered a daze. I have seen it happen before since I had to drag the bodies away from the entrance of the bunker.

I took a deep breath to calm my chaotic thoughts.

It was dark so using my ear was the only way to detect the unlocking mechanism.

I had done this a million times but I still hated this part the most.

Why did I hate it? Well….

Sadly, my parents were paranoid enough to create an unlocking mechanism so weird that only my sister and I could open the entrance.

When I was young, I had the tendency to lick things like any other normal child, but apparently, my parents thought this would make for a good family joke in the future.

Well fast-forward a couple of years and now, I am punishing for that childhood flaw.

I squatted near the hollow location and felt around for the area that contained the most dirt and grime. It was not exactly dirt and grime but a synthetic polymer akin to vulcanized rubber.

Think of it as a fingerprint scanner but for your tongue.

But regardless of what the substance was… once it was round like a ball, then it was a ball. Likewise, once it tasted like dirt, then it was by definition… dirt.

Once I found the squishiest location on the wall, I stretched my tongue outside my mouth to its limits and plastered it on the metal wall.

I licked the wall three times at set intervals. I could feel the squishy sensation deform to the shape of my tongue, making sure to measure each and every taste receptor.

I no longer felt the urge to vomit since I had lost the urge after the tenth time I licked the wall.

Within three seconds, there was a flash of light as my tongue was scanned, then with a clicking sound, I fell through the entrance that had opened at my feet.

The entranced locked itself the moment I entered, but the sudden feeling of falling did not do my stomach any favors.

I rolled down a smooth inclined surface for the next two minutes. I felt dizzy, angry, and strangely fulfilled all at once.

The falling and sliding used to be fun, but sometimes the beauty of life doesn't just escape you, it completely disappears from your perspective.

It wasn't that you were no longer willing to appreciate the beauty of life, but more like you no longer could. And no amount of 'help' could aid you in regaining the childhood innocence that was lost.

What was once fun in the past, could be the very thing that drives you to the brink of insanity. This was one such scenario.

When I got to the bottom, I immediately grabbed the bucket I stashed near the slide.

*Barf*

*Barf*

*Barf*

I began throwing up the little contents I had in my stomach. The majority of it was stomach acids but at least there was something in my stomach after all.

I know some other kids who directly threw up blood, while others just drop dead one day because their stomachs were so empty.

Compared to those guys, I am pretty lucky.

After I finished barfing, I examined the bunker for anything out of place.

The bunker was created to be a safe and fun location for my sister and me, but without the materials to maintain it. What was once a funhouse had become a nightmare.

The only reason I was able to tolerate it was because of the things I saw outside. Living in the slums was all about perspective and comparison.

When you eat a piece of bread for the entire day, you'll probably feel vexed by your circumstances. But after you go outside and see kids starving, you will feel contented and fulfilled with your piece of bread.

As bad as it was, half of the satisfaction in my life came from knowing that there were others doing worse than me in the slums.

Call it sadism, but I knew for a fact that it was just human nature.

I took a quick tour around the bunker and patched a couple of holes that had reopened.

Everything considered, the bunker did its job of keeping my sister and me alive so I had no great complaints about the place.

It was basic enough to ensure humbleness but intricate enough to contain all the needs of its inhabitants.

Had it not been for the sudden attack on my parents, with the bunker complete, my sister and I would have been able to remain without venturing outside for decades at least.

I walked up the stairs and into the only room in the bunker. There I saw her, my angelic little sister that guided me home every day. She was just four years old, but already had the makings of a great woman.

Call me biased, but I just knew it somewhere deep inside.

I walked over and picked her up from the bed. I made sure to carefully brush her curly black hair behind her ear. I wanted to make sure that I could see her beautiful pale skin that comforted my weary soul after every odyssey.

As I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, she stirred in my arms and clung to my hands. We always only had each other so she might have been a bit clingy.

"Cute!" I murmured enthusiastically.

She was the best part of my day… the best part of me.

I placed Aurora on the counter as I removed two silver-wrapped packages from my pockets. They were nutrition bars, the cheapest and most readily available food in the slums. It was an important supplement for growing children.

"Fuck!" I cursed aloud, the frustration finally getting to me.

I wouldn't be able to eat today. I broke open the silver wrappings and mashed the nutrition bars in a bowl, then I poured water into the bowl.

With the fifty cyber-coins I got from The Receptionist, I should have been able to eat well for a while, but life was never so simple.

You can't eat chicken foot your entire life and one day you suddenly brought a cow home. The neighbors wouldn't allow that.

It was the same concept in the slums.

'Living within your means' did not mean you couldn't do better, it just meant that you shouldn't do better without carefully considering the possible ramifications.

I wiped the tears that unknowingly leaked out of my eyes. I felt hurt that I couldn't even tell what I was crying for… it's just… everything was worth the pain of tears.

"Big Brother?"

Hearing the call of my little angel, I wiped the tears and put on my most innocent smile.

'Maybe tomorrow will be better,' I thought optimistically.