Page 11 of The Amber Sunburst

Bios definitely notices because a few minutes after passing through a marble arch proclaiming they’ve entered ‘The Second Arc: Home of Commerce’ he slows to a stop.

“You alright, kid?”

“Yes, of course,” Alexander lies. Bios mentioned getting back before dark. If Alexander goes too slow, will Bios deem him unworthy and leave him here?

Bios is not convinced. “Are you sure? I know a good coffee spot.”

“If you have to get back, I don’t want to⁠—”

“Don’t worry about that. You look like a shade right now and I’d rather you not take Er’s journey to the underworld and back before we get to the Academy.”

Alexander tries to find it in him to insist they continue on, but he’s always been weak for coffee.

“Yes, please.” His head drops down, and he puts his hands on his knees.

Bios chuckles, patting him on the back and walking towards the busy streets with a, “Follow me.” It’s probably pathetic how quickly Alexander scurries after him. But he’d do anything not to be alone again.

They venture through a square overtaken by business casual, everyone walking fast like they’ve got somewhere to be. Townhouses line the streets, multipurposed as businesses, restaurants, and homes. It reminds him of the pre-Fall San Francisco he’s seen in old photos, but without all of the color.

After a stressful few minutes of weaving through crowds, they finally reach the coffee shop. “Alright, this is it. You sit. I’ll go grab us some drinks,” Bios insists. Alexander complies, then belatedly realizes that he probably should have offered his assistance. He’s not a prince here, after all. No one to wait on him hand and foot.

“Thank you,” he remembers to say just as Bios enters the shop.

The Second Arc, Alexander decides as he looks around, is much more austere than the Third Arc. Marble adorns every building, and the streets are well-paved cobblestone, flat and smooth.

The wealth difference between the two Arcs is clear as well. The playful hustle and bustle of the Third Arc is replaced by suits and messenger bags and people leaving the cafe with enough cups to feed an army. He’s pretty sure the cafe is a chain store given the mermaid logos on every mug, cup, and table.

Or, siren logos, he supposes. That’s what the Ancient Greek mermaids were called, right? Because this country would think of sirens and minotaurs and centaurs rather than mermaids, sasquatches, and unicorns.

On the grueling walk, he pieced some of the puzzle together. The names, the columns, the myths. Whoever created this place must have done it with Ancient Greece in mind, though the Third Arc—and Alexander assumes those below it—did not commit as much to the design vision.

There’s one thing he knows for sure, though: Kallipolis, and the land that surrounds it, managed to fully protect itself from the Fall of Nations. They’ve either existed under the radar for thousands of years, or they were founded right when things got hairy before World War V. Somehow their invisible walls have kept them safe and secret all this time.

Of course, it wouldn’t be impossible for them to have been created post-Fall; the HAE managed to bounce back, after all. But his country will never be able to fully reverse the damage from the nuclear holocaust. Even Nuevo Vatican, their well-kept capital, is littered with hollow skyscrapers and the skeletons of cars. Plus, he doesn’t see any signs of Acute Radiation Syndrome here—a condition that affects at least forty percent of the known world’s population.

There are no remains of an unrecognizable world, leagues more advanced than their own. There is simply progress.

Alexander isn’t sure how he feels about that.

Bios interrupts his train of thought with a mug of hot coffee. “Dark roast okay?”

“As long as it has caffeine, I don’t care what it is.”

“The stairs are not ideal,” Bios admits with a laugh. “They were built a long time ago, probably for transportation alone, but now it also gives Auxiliaries access to every Arc when they need it. Though running down thousands of stairs isn’t very efficient.”

“Not really, no,” Alexander says.

“Just wait until we reach the Academy at the top. The view is unimaginable.”

Alexander hums.

He wonders if the Academy is like pre-Fall universities. He’s only seen the carcasses of old colleges, so the tiny part of him that still has energy for it is kind of excited to see what the place looks like.

“Do they teach you about the city’s organization in the countryside?” Bios asks after a sip of coffee.

“A bit. Though now that I’m seeing it… the Arc separation is pretty intense, huh?”

Bios winces. “You can definitely tell which Arc you’re in, I’ll say that much. The class separation isn’t exactly purposeful—the Arcs are differentiated by occupation, not by wealth. But, as you can imagine, some jobs are more lucrative than others and the further up you get the more power there is. Reform would be nearly impossible.”