Levels: The Host
instigated. Those in control decided to limit the number of “undesirables” permitted above. First Levelers had to have an approved reason to go up to Second Level. Eventually virtually no reason was approved, except for the select few who worked up there. And most of the labor in Manhattan, though done for the Second Level, was done on the First.
    The rich succeeded in isolating themselves almost completely. If the CV was any indication, their world was clean, bright, uncrowded, and crime free. A beautiful environment for the beautiful people. Watly figured that this boringly serene existence was probably a prime motivation in the creation of hosting: the restless rich seeking safe excitement. In any case, there was a sharp contrast between life above and life below the “fifth- floor line.”
    The First Level was overpopulated and dirty. Ironically, expressions like “the lower classes,” “the underclass,” and “below the poverty line” took on literal as well as figurative meanings. People were poor down below. Those who couldn’t find space indoors moved to the streets and sidewalks. Tenting became popular. Tenting was considered just a short step above bumming, even though many tenters had jobs. A tenter had to be ever prepared to pick up and move on a moment’s notice. The police would often shift them around arbitrarily.
    Then there were the roofers. They fell on the social scale somewhere between tenting and apartment dwelling. These were people who’d set up a house or shelter on the roof of a building that was four stories high or shorter. Quite a few Manhattan buildings had less than five floors, so there was a lot of space between their roofs and the Second Level “ceiling.” Some of these roofers set up quite elaborate homesteads up there. Others were just glorified tenters.
    The Second Levelers would give an occasional nod of the head to those below in the form of repair or maintenance. But more often than not, those below had to fend for themselves. If the “upperfolk” did help with a problem, it was only when they foresaw it affecting their lives adversely. They would repair and maintain decaying buildings when it affected the stability of the upper floors. When escaping odors became a problem for them, the Second Levelers funded public W.C.s on street corners and an extensive garbage disposal and air filtering system. It appeared they were free with money as long as it was in their own interest to spend it. But if the people needed something on First Level that had no impact on Second, those above did nothing.
    A perfect example was the underground. Years before, the subs were called the lifeblood. No more. As time progressed, they decayed and corroded, gradually falling apart. Eventually they broke down altogether from neglect. The upperfolk had no interest in repairing them. Why should they? They left them to rot. Over many years the barren tracks and filthy tunnels became home for the worst sort of person. Criminals of all kinds gathered there. Murderers, rapists, thieves, muggers. It was the last outpost for humanity’s rejects. An island-wide hideout for sociopaths. The police wouldn’t go down there. Even the toughest and most streetwise of First Levelers never ventured below. Eventually, First Level authorities brought military personnel in and held a massive cleanup. The system was purged. The criminals were flushed out in one bloody massacre and all of the sub’s entranceways were sealed. It was over. Done. Since no one went down there, nothing more was heard, but the rumors and tall tales continued. Stories circulated of an evil subculture that still existed below. “Go to sleep, Tinny, or the Subkeeper will get you!” “Eat your food, Mesipi, or I’ll send you to the Subkeeper.” Watly had heard these fairy tales all his Brooklyn childhood. As time went by, the underground was all but forgotten. The fairy tales were all that was left. Transportation for Firsters was

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