Trimagasi spat into the hole. "The Administration only speaks the language of 'more.' They don't need subtitles to understand that the people at the top are eating, and the people at the bottom are dying."

Goreng reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, battered tablet he had been allowed to bring. It was frozen on a menu screen: . In this vertical hell, where communication was as scarce as food, he had spent his few hours of battery life trying to find a language they all shared. He scrolled through the "existing subtitles"—Hungarian, Spanish, English—searching for a way to send a message to the top that wouldn't be ignored.

"Do you hear them?" Goreng asked, his voice raspy from the dry air.