Steel Sky by Andrew C. Murphy Read Free Book Online Page A

shuts with a pneumatic hiss, and the lights go out. Images are projected everywhere on the interior of the deformed sphere except directly above him, where a lone camera hangs. The only unmonitored place in the Hypogeum is the Master Sensorium, where his father works.
    Second Son climbs into the control area. He still finds the hard vinyl chair uncomfortable; it hasn’t yet reformed itself from the imprint left by his brother’s tall, muscular body.
    He begins a preliminary sweep. He rotates his chair and taps the keyboard, activating certain cameras, deactivating others, panning in, panning out. The entire world is contained in this small room. He can access any camera in the Hypogeum from here, including those that cover the workers in the five circles below him. He tries to take in all the images at once, as his father instructs, but he cannot do it. No matter how much he pushes his brain, he only sees the scenes one at a time. He has never experienced the apprehension of the entire Hypogeum as a single whole the way his father describes it. Second Son wonders if it is just a lie.
    Throughout the Hypogeum, preparations are being made for the celebration of his wedding. In the Chandelier, tables are being set in the Discroom, and food is being prepared in the kitchens. In other parts of the Hypogeum, musicians are practicing. Clops are setting up security. In private homes, guests are picking out their best clothes. Chatters are entertaining their clients with descriptions of the lavish decorations.
    All this bother , he thinks, to commemorate the union of two people who despise each other .
    With a sigh, Second Son stops scanning and activates a retrospect. He does not even have to glance at the keyboard as he inputs the time and place. The scene he chooses is of the Orcus complex a little less than a year ago. On the screen, he sees himself from above, walking across the family room. It is painful to watch this younger, slightly plumper version of himself blunder into danger. The wire hidden in the carpet, which he had overlooked then, is painfully obvious now.
    As he steps on it, the wire snaps tight around his feet, yanking him to the ceiling. Watching himself dangle upside-down, Second Son realizes how perfectly his sister planned the trap: not only was the path from the dining area to his room one that Second Son was likely to travel, it was also very well monitored. He can see himself from four different angles. The lowest camera has a wide-angle lens, making Second Son look like a bloated, helpless giant.
    His sister walks into the room. She is wearing red and gold gym clothes that cling to her muscular body. Her wavy auburn hair is tied back as if she has been exercising, but there is not a drop of sweat on her. With her high cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes, First Daughter — or Dancer, as she is more commonly called — is a beauty unlike anyone else in this generation of the Orcus family. She says she got her hair from her mother’s mother. Her arrogant manner, however, comes straight from their father.
    Behind her is the man she was seeing at the time, a hulk of a man with a vacant expression. Second Son cannot remember his name. The tufts of hair at each temple on the otherwise shaved head mark him as a palaestran, a warrior athlete, but he is not one of the famous ones.
    Dancer laughs and executes a small pirouette. “I told you it would work!” she says.
    “You were right,” the palaestran says.
    “Let me down!” Second Son says, as loudly as his lungs will allow in his inverted position. “Father will be very displeased when he hears about this!” The older Second Son winces at his younger self’s pathetic attempt at bravado.
    “Why don’t you let yourself down?” Dancer asks, tilting her head to one side. Dancer is always in motion. “Why don’t you just reeeeeeach up to those fat little ankles and untie yourself?”
    Second Son tries, grunting. He can barely pull himself high enough to