Below this level the City had been sealed. That seal was called the Net. Unlike a real net, however, there were no holes in it. It was a perfect, supposedly unbreachable barrier. The architects of City Earth had meant it as a quarantine measure: as a means of preventing the spread of infestation and disease. From the beginning, however, the Seven had found another use for it.
They had been wise, that first Council of the Seven. They had known what some men were; had seen the darkness in their hearts and had realized that, unless they acted, the lowest levels of the City would soon become ungovernable. Their solution had been simple and effective. They had decided to use the Net as a dumping ground for that small antisocial element on whom the standard punishment of downgrading—of demoting a citizen to a lower level—had proved consistently unsuccessful. By that means they hoped to check the rot and keep the levels pure.
To a degree it had worked. As a dumping ground the Net had served the Seven well. Below the Net there was no citizenship. Down there a man had no rights but those he fought for or earned in the service of other, more powerful men. There was no social welfare there, no health care, no magistrates to judge the rights or wrongs of a man's behavior. Nor was there any legitimate means of returning from the Net. Exile was permanent, on pain of death. It was little wonder, then, that its threat kept the citizens of Pan Chao Street in check.
Chen knew. It was where they came from, he and Jyan. Where they had been bom. Down there, below the Net.
And now they were returning.
At the mouth of one of the small alleyways that opened onto Pan Chao Street, a group of young men had gathered in a circle, hunched forward, watching excitedly as a die rolled. There was a sudden upward movement of their heads; an abrupt, exaggerated movement of arms and hands and shoulders accompanied by a shrill yell from a dozen mouths, a shout of triumph and dismay, followed a moment later by the hurried exchange of money and the making of new bets. Then the young men hunched forward again, concentrating on the next roll.
As they passed the entrance, Jyan turned and stared at the group. He hesitated, then, catching their excitement, began to make'his way across to them.
"Kao Jyan!" Chen hissed, reaching out to restrain him. "There's no time! We must get on!"
Jyan turned back, a momentary confusion in his face. His movements seemed strangely feverish and uncontrolled. His eyes had difficulty focusing. Chen knew at once what was wrong. The drug he had taken to tolerate the conditions outside the City was wearing off.
Too soon, Chen thought, his mind working furiously. You must have taken it too early. Before you were told to. And now the reaction's setting in. Too soon. Too bloody soon!
"Come on, Jyan," he said, leaning closer and talking ihto his face. "We've got to get to the elevator!"
Jyan shivered and seemed to focus on him at last. Then he nodded and did as Chen said, moving on quickly through the crowd.
Where Pan Chao Street spilled out into the broad concourse of Main, Chen stopped and looked about him, keeping a grip on Jyan. The bell tower was close by and to his left, the distribution elevator far to his right, barely visible, almost two U in the distance.
Shit! he thought. I was right. WeVe come out the wrong end! He glanced at Jyan, angry now. He knew they had been in there too long. He had told him they had come too far along the shaft, but Jyan would not have it. "The next junction," Jyan had said when Chen had stopped beside the hatch: "Not this one. The next." Chen had known at the time that Jyan was wrong, but Jyan had been in charge and so he had done as he'd said. But now he wished he had overruled him. They had lost valuable time. Now they would have to backtrack—out in the open where they could be seen. Where Security could see them. And with Jyan going funny on him.
He leaned close to Jyan and shouted into his ear. "Just stay beside me. Hold on to my arm if necessary, but don't leave my side."
Jyan turned his head and looked back at him, his expression vacant for a moment. Then, as before, he seemed to come to and nodded. "Okay," he mouthed. "Let's go."
Main, the huge central concourse of Eleven, was a Babel of light and sound, a broad, bloated torrent of humanity that made Pan Chao Street seem a sluggish backwater. Along its length people crowded about the stalls, thick as blackfly on a stem, haggling for bargains, while high above them massive view-screens hung in clusters from the ceiling, filling the overhead. On the huge, five-level walls to either side of the concourse a thousand flickering images formed and reformed in a nightmare collage. Worst of all, however, was the noise. As they stepped out into the crush the noise hit them like a wave, a huge swell of sound, painful in its intensity, almost unbearable.
Chen gritted his teeth, forcing his way through the thick press of people, holding on tightly to Jyan's arm and almost thrusting him through the crowd in front of him. He looked about him, for the first time really anxious, and saw how the long'time natives of Eleven seemed to ignore the clamor; seemed not to see the giant, dreamlike faces that flickered into sudden existence and followed their every movement down the Main. They knew it was all a clever trick; knew from childhood how the screens responded to their presence. But to a stranger it was different. Nowhere in the City was quite like Eleven. Here, in the first level above the Net, life seemed in perpetual ferment; as if the knowledge of what lay sealed off just below their feet made them live their lives at a different level of intensity.
Jyan was turning his head from side to side as he moved through the crush, grimacing against the brute intensity of the noise, the awful flickering neon brightness of the screens. Then, abruptly, he turned and faced Chen, leaning into him, shouting into his face.
"I can't stand it, Chen! I can't hear myself think!"
Jyan's face was dreadful to see. His mouth had formed a jagged shape; his round and frightened eyes held a neon glimpse of madness. It was clear he was close to cracking up. Chen held his arms firmly, trying to reassure him through his touch, then leaned close, shouting back his answer. "Two minutes, Jyan, that's all! We're almost there!"
Jyan shuddered and looked up, away from Chen, his eyes wide. From one of the larger screens a huge face turned and focused on him. It was a classically beautiful Oriental face, the eyes like almonds, the skin like satin, the hair fine and straight and dark. Meeting Jyan's eyes she smiled and, somewhere else, a computer matched the face she looked down into against its computer memory of all the faces in that sector of the City.
"You're a stranger here," she said, after barely a pause, the wire-thin stem of a speaker appendage snaking down to a point just above their heads. "Are you just visiting us, or have you business here?"
Jyan had frozen. Chen, too, had turned and was looking up at the screen. "Come on," he said tensely. "It's dangerous here."
As the seconds passed, and Jyan did not move, the computers spread their search, looking to match the face and find a name. It was good sales technique. This time, however, it came up with nothing. Fourteen near likenesses, but nothing to match the retinal print of the man standing beneath its screen. In a Security post five levels up a warning message flashed up on a screen.
"Come on, Jyan!" Chen said urgently, tugging Jyan away; ignoring the curious looks of passersby, pulling him along roughly now.
At the end of Main, only a quarter Ji away, the doors to one of the huge delivery elevators were opening. Chen increased his pace, glancing from side to side. As the doors slid slowly back, a number of Ministry of Distribution workers—chi ch'i—stepped out, their dark, uniformed figures dwarfed by the huge doors.
Nearer the elevator the crowd thinned and the going grew easier. Chen slowed, then stopped and drew Jyan around to face him. The doors were almost fully open now. Already a number of the low-slung electric carts were spilling out into the Main, unloading the code-marked crates.