3.Sweating heavily, even under my skin-tight, air-cooled modtrend, holding my security holo-pass in my damp hand, I made my way up to the Company administrative offices on the upper level—first time I’d ever been above Funland on Level Three.
I lived on the Retro, or Level One, like many others in my caste, even spoke a little retro-talk, which had been popular at the turn of the last century—but used in most of the really cool clubs on Level One. The only obviously non-retro things existing on my level were the warrens of stacked dormitories replacing the twentieth-century projects of San Francisco. These cramped facilities housed the thousands of Freemen brought Inside as indentured servants. Ha; the Company euphemistically called them Domestiques. Whatever. And in fact, I’d been brough
