Jack gets fired and goes back to the Lower Floors, but not without facing danger.

  He shouldered his duffel bag since the way would be long.

  He passed through various parts of Section 84. It was a vast dome that madeof a seemingly endless number of tiers. Each level was narrower than the previousone, up to the top. At the very top, made of glass, letting in pure light - that waswhere the CEOs lived. They’d built the Dome to be self-sustaining: their floors hadhydroponic gardens, solar relays, and air so clean it hurt to breathe after a lifetimeof Lower Floors. And life for the CEOs was like a long Sunday. They controlled almosteverything in Section 84, and one of them had decided to take over the company Jackwas working for, and to give it to his son as a toy to practice how to manage a companysince the “little” one wanted to know it is to manage a company. One of his first businessorders was to fire everyone, who was not born in the Upper Floors, and that meant 50percent of the people from that company had to go back to Lower Floors. When his fatherwith a raised eyebrow asked “Are you sure?” “Yes, I can’t stand those Low Floors. Theystink.” “But all of them have worked very hard to pass the exams for being office workers,and many of them have worked for at least 5 years in that company. You need experiencedstaff to run that company” “But not stinkin’ Low Floors! Am I the Boss, or not? ” “Yes, you are.”

  Then two large security guards had appeared where Jack lived, in a nice 200 square meterflat with a delightful view, and had handed him a notice that informed him to leave within 2 hours.

  Jack had already expected their visit to happen. After the hostile takeover of his company oneday before. He grinned and said, "Have fun!", took his duffel bag, and now he was on his wayto the Lower Floors, passing those fancy shops.

  He saw a lot of familiar faces, but no came to greet him, or to tell him how sorry they felt for him.But even he saw a familiar face, a “friend”, he controlled the urge to shout. Even would have letout a scream to show that he was still alive, that he was not a ghost from the past, they would havenot cared. For them he was just now nothing more than a nuisance. Jack clenched his fists.

  They think I’m just a footnote in their polished lives, easily discarded like yesterday’s news.But three years of struggle wasn’t for nothing. I fought my way up; I’ll claw my way back. I am not going gently in to that good night. I am here to fight!

  With each level he descended, the light dimmed, suffocated by layers of concrete and despair. Thevibrant colors of the Upper Floors faded into a muted gray, a reminder of what he was leaving behind.And a very grim smile appeared on his face.

  It had taken him some time to adjust to the dimness again. Three years in the Upper Floors had spoiledhim. Light. Life. Everything felt different up there. But he remembered how people struggled down there,chasing the quick buck just to survive. Up there was the land of plenty, no one who was born aboveLower Levels ever knew what it meant to suffer from hunger and cold.

  But Jack wasn’t born in the Upper Floors. He’d clawed his way up through hard work and a quick mind.Passing the exams was one achievement he was really proud of. Moving up to the Upper Floors, andmoving into his 200 square meter flat had made him even more proud. He had enjoyed the fine food,and don’t forget the new fine suits he wore every day.

  Yet, despite everything he gained, something was always missing up there—genuine friendship, andthe familiar faces of people who had known him before his fight up to the Upper Floors.

  Let us see who of my friends still remembers me here. For I need real allies, who are as hungry as mefor clawing the way up again, but this time for good.

  Ahead, he saw the gate that separated the Upper Floors from the Lower Floors. A chill ran down hisspine. The guards loomed like sentinels of his worst fears—brutal enforcers reveling in cruelty, eagerto remind him that once you fall, the fall is never over.

  When Jack first arrived, he quickly learned the guards’ favorite pastime: delighting in the humiliationof others. They thrived on mocking those who dared to ascend, hurling insults that cut deep, insistingthese hopeful souls didn’t belong in the Upper Floors.

  The true cruelty emerged when the unfortunate were forced to return. That’s when the guardsunleashed their rubber batons, laughing as they made the poor souls run a gauntlet of pain, ensuringfew emerged unscathed as they passed through the gate—more dead than alive.

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  And Jack did not feel like running that gauntlet today or ever.

  Since childhood, he had faced mistreatment for being different. With his bright green eyes, hewas an outlier—unique in a world that valued conformity. He remembered asking his grandparentsabout his unusual eyes. Granny Linda told him they were a gift from his mother, whose accidenthad turned her eyes green.

  At first, this explanation had sufficed. But as he grew older, he sensed something was amiss. Nevertheless,he was too consumed with learning how to survive. In school, he was one of the brightest students.While he might not have been the strongest fighter, he learned to rely on his quick mind and evenquicker feet.

  "Let us see how we can avoid a beating," he closed his eyes for a second and thought.

  It was close to lunchtime, and Jack hadn’t been spotted. He crouched behind a garbage container,barely daring to breathe.

  Most security guards took their lunch breaks seriously—too seriously.

  He waited. Five minutes crawled by.

  A loud commotion broke out near the gate. Jack peeked carefully from behind the container.

  All he saw was one guard—a mountain of a man whose bulk practically blocked the entire gate.His uniform strained at the seams, and Jack couldn’t see past him. But the voices echoing frombehind told him there were at least two others.

  “My turn!

  Jack stayed perfectly still.

  “Like hell it is, Fatty!”

  “Yeah,” chimed in a third, barely audible, “and who made you the boss? We’ve been waiting too.”

  Jack’s pulse steadied. The guards hadn’t noticed him.

  “Figures,” he thought. “Even the enforcers here can’t stand each other.”

  The argument dragged on, their voices growing more heated.

  “Enough“I’m staying! You two go before I change my mind!

  “Fine, whatever

  Jack heard grumbling and footsteps fading away, leaving the enormous guard standing alonein front of the gate, looking none too happy.

  He was a mountain of fat and sweat. His dirty uniform, stained with old grease and sauce,strained against his belly, the seams barely holding it together. His thick neck bulged overthe collar, and his posture screamed boredom.

  A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the cool air. He licked his cracked lips lazily,his tongue sliding over remnants of whatever cheap, fried garbage he had stuffed into his mouthearlier. His half-lidded eyes, dull and glazed, weren’t watching the gate—they were already dreamingof the next greasy mess that awaited him at lunch.

  A faint wheeze escaped his nose with every breath, and the scent of stale sweat and rancid oil lingeredin the air around him. Jack could almost taste it.

  “Perfect,” Jack whispered to himself.

  The guard wasn’t just lazy. He was stupid.

  Jack’s mind was already calculating. Too big to chase. Too slow to react. All he needed was a distraction.

  Something to draw those dull eyes away from the gate for just long enough to slip through the gate. His hand brushed against a small piece of metal in his pocket. Jack looked at it. Bingo! It was his old 5-credit coin.

  Plan A: Throw it toward the alley. The noise would make the guard look away for just long enough. Plan B: If that didn’t work? Well, Jack was still fast. But I’d rather not sprint through the gate like a maniacunless I have to.

  He weighed his options. Timing had to be perfect. Jack gripped the coin tightly. It was an old one—realmetal. The CEOs tried to strip the Lower Floors of anything valuable, but they did not quite succeed.Everyone liked those coins a lot of reasons, when you went shopping with a credit sitick the CEOs knewexactly what you bought, but with these coins your purchases stayed your secret, and sometimes youdo not want anyone to know what you bought - especially when it was something illegal.

  But Jack had picked it up years ago, as a lucky charm. “Let’s see if luck’s still on my side.” He ran histhumb over the edge, feeling the worn ridges.

  Calm - steady - clink.

  The coin danced across the pavement, hitting the wall and bouncing into the shadows of the alley.A sharp, metallic ping echoed louder than he had expected.

  The guard’s head jerked up. His dull eyes suddenly lit with interest.

  “Huh?” His thick neck twisted toward the sound.

  Money!!!

  Even a worthless coin meant something down here. The promise of wealth—even a lie—was enoughto make these guys curious. Greed was a language they spoke fluently.The guard shuffled toward the alley, his bulk moving faster than Jack would have guessed. “Come on,baby!” the man muttered under his breath, already imagining some forgotten stash.

  Jack moved—silent, swift. His body pressed into the shadows of the wall as he slid toward the gate.Ten steps. The guard was still peering into the alley, his attention fully consumed.

  Seven steps.

  Fatty’s mind already calculating, wondering how much he could sell that coin for—Four steps. Jackwas so close now, he could hear the man’s breath quicken in anticipation.

  Two steps. His foot brushed against the threshold.

  Freedom.

  Jack was through the gate, merging with the crowded chaos of the Lower Floors before the guardeven thought to turn back.“Chasing ghosts.” Jack smirked, slipping the real treasure—his freedom—back into his pocket.For people from the Upper Floors, the Lower Floors were a dangerous playground. But Jack knewit like the back of his hand.

  It was home!

  Jack thought to himself “I did it. I’m back! Now out of this get up.”