Free The Superiors by Lena Hillbrand

people, not having his skull vibrated by the terrible noise that Superiors called music, or worse still, awful music leftover from humankind’s productive years. Humans had left some good stuff, but invariably clubs played utter swill like Snakebite. Marisol would expect him to enjoy himself while smashing his body against throngs of vile Thirds, most of whom didn’t have jobs or brains at all.
    Thirds were expendable, useless. During the Hundred Year War, so many people had gotten killed all over the world that the countries had to stop fighting and build up their force of soldiers again. Hence, the Third Order. But the six countries in existence at the time of the temporary peace had decided they liked things as they were, and the fighting had never commenced. So the War had ended, and the world stayed divided into the six countries that existed then. All six countries had stayed at peace for a hundred years now. The unfortunate part was that every country was left with a huge number of soldiers with no purpose at all—Thirds.
    They had been made for a job, and the job fell through. They should have been destroyed the moment their uselessness became apparent, when the government found out the War had ended for good. Really, Thirds were more pointless than sapiens. At least sapiens provided food in return for their pathetic neediness. Thirds didn’t provide anything, except a workforce of cheap, replaceable labor. Most Thirds obeyed the law, in their cowering, hopeful way. Byron had to give them that. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to do something as degrading as inspect incoming sapien food.
    So maybe Thirds were useful, in the way that daylight was useful—a nuisance, and best avoided, but necessary for the running of the world as Byron knew it. Once in a while Byron would find a Third worth his ration card, like Draven, and he’d try to help the poor bastard pull himself out of the Third Order sludge and advance. He hardly considered Thirds Superiors at all. They were more like hybrids, something between sapien and Superior.
    Only the ones who had special talents should have been kept around after the Second Evolution, the ones worthy of the Superior title. Not like the social riff-raff that hung around South End waiting to pick off saps the minute their owners turned their backs, or dose up on drugs that would get them high but never hook or kill them (unfortunately), or stay out all day and night dancing at the clubs and never going to work, selling their papers to illegals for money to dance and drink sap and bang one out in the back alley with another dancer whose name they wouldn’t remember six seconds later.
    “Dancing sounds wonderful,” Byron told his wife. She rewarded him with a smile and a kiss.
    “Good,” Marisol said. “I have a new dress I’ve been waiting to wear for a few years now.”

 
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    Again it was many days before Draven went back to Estrella’s. He took an assignment in Las Vegas and stayed longer than he’d anticipated when he’d accepted the task. The extra pay he received for travel and inconvenience made up for his time away. When he returned, he dined with Byron and lost another game of chess.
    “I was thinking, last time we played,” Byron said, drawing his finger along the touch screen on the table to move a rook to the next space. “Maybe you would like to dine with my family.”
    “Your family?”
    “Yes, my wife and I, and our two children.”
    “You have children?”
    “Yes, a boy and a girl.”
    “Yes, of course, I’d be honored,” Draven said quickly, hoping Byron hadn’t taken his questions as hesitation. He kept his opinion of children to himself, as well. He always feared insulting someone of the higher order.
    “When do you have a night off again?”
    “Four nights from now.”
    “Very well then. We’ll play games and my children will tell you that you’ll never win.” Byron laughed, and Draven did his best, hoping