Warmth flushed through me. I imagined I was quite the sight. Wisps of brown hair had sprung from my braid long ago and clung to my sweaty face. Stains and tears marked my one-piece cleaning uniform, which felt rather tight all of a sudden. Bare feet roughened with calluses completed the picture. I don’t know why I cared about my appearance. I hadn’t before.

“Aren’t you going to come down?” Riley pointed to the couch.

“I’ll stay here.”

“You still don’t trust me even after I covered for you?”

No sense sugarcoating it. “Yep.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I owe you one.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered. He crossed his arms and frowned. “You might as well go then. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.” Riley turned to leave.

Not the reaction I expected. “Help me with what?”

He paused. “Getting Domotor’s port.”

“Why?”

Riley faced me with a challenge in his blue eyes. So used to the various shades of brown in the lower levels, the color still amazed me.

“If you want to know why, then have a seat.” He swept his arm wide.

Curiosity was a lethal trait. Scrubs learned in the care facility not to ask too many questions or challenge what you were taught. To accept and agree meant more privileges, fewer punishments and a decent work assignment. A few had learned this lesson quicker than others. A few still hadn’t accepted it.

My Care Mother followed the Pop Cops’ rules, but she lacked the inner conviction. She punished because she had to, not because she agreed with the rules. If one of us found a loophole, she honored it and applauded our inventiveness.

Unfortunately, my talents in creative explanations had been limited. And the faded scars crisscrossing my body reminded me I should squelch all curiosity. But should didn’t mean I would. I settled on the couch next to Zippy.

Riley pointed to the little cleaning troll. “Is that what you used to keep the motion detectors silent?”

“I’m not answering anything until you tell me why you want to help me.”

He swallowed his first comment, drew a deep breath and said, “After meeting you the first time, I searched for more information about life in the lower levels. My interest triggered a warning. Good thing I was still in training, the warning was sent to my trainer who’s also my father instead of the Controllers.” He touched his left arm. Blood still welled from a number of cuts.

“What happens when the Controllers are alerted?”

A wince flashed across his face. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. You’re an upper. How bad can it be?”

He paused. “Interesting. The ignorance goes both ways.” Balanced on the couch’s armrest, his gaze slid past my shoulder. “Makes sense, though. The Trava family wouldn’t want uppers and lowers to unite.” Riley’s focus returned to me.

“Nor would we. You uppers think we’re filthy livestock bred for one purpose. To work.”

“I see the propaganda has worked. You believe the Pop Cops.”