The second building opened three months after the first.
Sector 6, Block 23. An old residential complex that had been beautiful once - you could see it in the curved archways and the mosaic tile work that someone had installed with care a century ago. Now it was water-damaged and structurally questionable, but still standing. Still salvageable.
I bought it for twenty million from a holding company that had forgotten it existed. Spent another eighty million making it livable. Thirty units this time - the building was bigger, had better bones. Same setup as Building 47: free housing, communal kitchen, medical clinic.
Dr. Yin recruited another doctor to help - Dr. Okafor, a Gamma who'd been practicing illegal medicine out of a storage container in Sector 8. Together they ran clinics five days a week now across both buildings.
Finn had hired a kitchen staff. Five people who'd been doing food service work for exploitative restaurants, paying them decent wages to prepare meals for residents. The kitchens were feeding two hundred people a day now between both buildings.
Word was spreading.
The undercity network lit up with discussions about the Free Level.
I watched them sometimes, scrolling through the local forums and message boards where Gammas shared information, warnings, opportunities. The threads about my buildings ran hundreds of posts deep.
has anyone actually stayed there? what's the catch?
i been there two months. no catch. free food is real. medical is real. they fixed my kid's broken arm no charge.
sounds like cult recruitment to me
if it's a cult they're really bad at it. nobody's asked me to worship anything. just gave me a place to live.
he's got to want something. nobody gives away millions for nothing.
maybe he's just rich and guilty
maybe he's rich and trapped like the rest of us, only he can actually do something about it
That last comment sat with me for a while. Rich and trapped. That's exactly what I was.
But at least the money was building something now.
The third building was in Sector 9, the deepest part of the undercity, where the old station infrastructure was most degraded. Mother Sera lived in Sector 9, in a building she'd occupied for forty years. I knew about her - everyone in the undercity knew about Mother Sera. She was the memory keeper, the elder, the one who remembered when things had been different.
She hadn't come to me yet, but I felt her watching.
The Sector 9 building was smaller - only fifteen units - but it cost more to renovate because the damage was severe. One hundred and ten million total. I was up to two hundred and ninety million spent, with monthly operating costs approaching twelve million.
The numbers should have scared me. At this rate, I'd burn through my liquid capital in a couple years. But The Collector kept buying currency, kept transferring massive payments. I'd sold another batch for three hundred million two weeks ago.
The money kept coming. And I kept spending it.
Sixty-five units now. Two hundred and thirty residents if you counted everyone in all three buildings. Hot meals for anyone who showed up, whether they lived in my buildings or not. Medical care for anyone who walked into a clinic.
The Free Level was becoming real.
I started hiring for more than just kitchen and medical staff.
Building maintenance - people who could fix plumbing, electrical, structural issues. I found Kara's crew and offered them permanent positions. Triple wages, steady work, dignity of being paid fairly for skilled labor.
Administration - people to manage the waiting lists, coordinate services, handle logistics. I hired a woman named Zara who'd been doing off-books accounting for undercity businesses. She was brilliant with numbers and fiercely protective of the residents.
Security - not guards, exactly, but people who could manage conflicts, watch for threats, protect vulnerable residents. I recruited carefully for this, looking for Gammas who understood violence but didn't lead with it. A man named Kovak who'd done private security before being blacklisted for refusing to beat a Gamma worker. A woman named Iris who'd been undercity police before the station authority shut down the program for "redundancy."
I was building an organization. A structure. Something that could operate without me managing every detail.
And I was creating jobs. Real jobs with real pay and real dignity.
That mattered almost as much as the housing.
Finn found me in my office at Building 47, surrounded by spreadsheets and property listings.
"You're looking at another building," they said.
"Three more, actually. Sector 4, Sector 7, and one on the border of Sector 8."
"You're insane."
"That's been established." I pulled up the financials. "If I buy and renovate those three, we'll have a hundred and twenty units total. Maybe five hundred residents. Operating costs will hit twenty million a month, but I've got enough in pending sales to cover that for years."
"And then what? You buy every building in the undercity?"
"No. Just enough to make a difference."
Finn sat down across from me. "People are calling it the Free Level now. Like it's an actual place, not just your buildings."
"I heard."
"Some of the residents are saying it should be official. That you should petition the station authority to recognize Level 9 as independent territory."
I looked up from the spreadsheets. "That's ambitious."
"That's what happens when you give people hope. They start imagining impossible things."
"Like escaping genetic imprisonment?"
"Like building something better than what exists." Finn's expression was serious. "You're changing things, Jax. People are seeing Gammas working real jobs for real pay. They're seeing free housing and medical care. They're seeing what's possible when someone gives a damn."
"I give a damn because I'm stuck here."
"You give a damn because you're you. The being stuck just focused it." They stood. "Building four opens next week. Sector 7. People are already lining up."
The fourth building's opening was different from the others.
Two hundred people showed up. Not just prospective residents - families, workers, people who'd heard about the Free Level and wanted to see if it was real. Wanted to witness something good happening in a place where good things didn't happen.
I stood in the new building's common area - freshly renovated, smelling like paint and possibility - and looked at the crowd that had gathered.
Someone had made a sign: "WELCOME TO THE FREE LEVEL."
I hadn't asked for a sign. Hadn't asked for a crowd. But here they were, treating this like it mattered. Like it was more than just me spending money because I had nowhere else to put it.
An old woman pushed her way to the front. Mother Sera. I recognized her from descriptions - white hair in long locs, deep-lined face, presence that made people instinctively give her space.
"You're Jax Varro," she said. Not a question.
"I am."
"You're the one buying up condemned buildings and giving them away."
"Yes, ma'am."
She studied me with eyes that had seen too much and forgiven too little. "Why?"
The question everyone asked. The question I still didn't have a good answer for.
"Because I tried to leave and couldn't. Because I have money that should mean something. Because—" I stopped, searched for honesty. "Because I needed to build something that mattered more than my own escape."
"You think free housing matters?"
"I think people not dying from exposure matters. People not choosing between food and medicine matters. Gammas being paid fairly for their work matters."
She was quiet for a long moment. The crowd had gone silent, watching this exchange like it was a test I might fail.
"You know what happens when you give people hope," Mother Sera said finally. "They start wanting things. Expecting things. You ready for that?"
"No. But I'm doing it anyway."
She almost smiled. "Good. Hope without readiness is how you build something real." She looked around at the renovated building, at the crowd, at the sign someone had made. "The Free Level. That what you're calling this?"
"It's what people are calling it."
"Then you better live up to the name." She turned to leave, then paused. "Come see me in Sector 9. Building 17. I want to talk about what you're really building here."
She left without waiting for my response.
The crowd started moving again, talking, asking questions about units and meals and medical care. Zara handled the logistics while I tried to process what had just happened.
Mother Sera had blessed this. Not explicitly, but close enough.
And in the undercity, her blessing mattered.
Two months later, I had seven buildings running.
One hundred and sixty-five units. Six hundred and forty residents. Thirty people on staff - kitchen workers, maintenance crews, medical providers, administrators, security. Operating costs at thirty-two million a month.
I'd spent close to a billion credits.
And I'd barely made a dent in the need.
The waiting lists kept growing. Zara showed me the numbers - fifteen hundred people now. Families living in condemned sections, squatters in buildings that should be demolished, workers who couldn't afford the extortionate rent most landlords charged.
Fifteen hundred people who needed what I was building.
I sat in my office - I had three offices now, one in each of the main buildings - and stared at the numbers. Thirty-two million a month. Three hundred and eighty-four million a year. I had enough to run this for maybe five years if I stopped expanding.
Or I could keep expanding. Keep buying buildings. Keep hiring staff. Keep pushing until the money ran out or something broke.
The Collector's latest payment notification appeared on my display. Four hundred million credits for the newest batch of Earth currency.
I transferred the funds and immediately started looking at property listings.
Sector 11. Sector 5. Two more buildings near the Sector 8 border where Gammas were crossing down from the legal levels, looking for the Free Level they'd heard about.
The money would run out eventually. Had to. But not yet.
Not while people were still waiting.
Finn found me working late, as usual.
"You should sleep sometimes," they said.
"I sleep."
"Passing out at your desk doesn't count." They set down a plate of food from the kitchen - real food, good food, the kind we were serving to hundreds of people every day. "Eat. Then tell me why you're looking at commercial properties now."
I'd been caught. "I'm thinking about job creation. Housing and food are good, but people need work. Need purpose. Need income."
"So you're going to start businesses?"
"Maybe. Light manufacturing, repair services, things the undercity needs. Employ Gammas at fair wages, sell products at reasonable prices. Build an actual economy instead of just charity."
Finn was quiet for a moment. "You're not trying to escape anymore."
"Can't escape."
"No, I mean... you're not trying to find a way out. You're building a way forward. That's different."
I thought about that. About the scanner's red light and the Collector's warnings and the genetic markers that kept me caged. About the buildings I'd bought and the people I'd housed and the staff I'd hired.
"Yeah," I said. "I guess it is."
"People are noticing. Not just undercity people. Heard there's talk on Level 8 about the Free Level. Some Gammas working legal jobs are asking if they can move down here for the community."
"Moving down from better conditions?"
"Moving down for dignity. For being around people who see them as human." Finn picked up one of my property listings. "You're building something that matters, Jax. Something that might actually change things."
"Or might collapse when the money runs out."
"Maybe. But at least you're trying."
They left me with the food and the property listings and the impossible mathematics of hope.
Seven buildings. Six hundred and forty residents. Thirty staff. Fifteen hundred on waiting lists.
And that was just the beginning.
The Free Level was spreading.
Word was spreading.
And somewhere in the levels above, someone had to be noticing.
I pushed that thought away and went back to the property listings.
Eight buildings. Nine. Ten.
I'd build until something stopped me.
And maybe, if I built it right, nothing would.