Emerald Heights

Power Up Prompt #19

Dystopian - Three Levels

Bradley Ramsey

I used to write speeches telling people how blessed they were to live in Emerald Heights.
The last bright jewel.
The crown above the wasteland.

Strange when I think about it now.
I wrote those lines like they were gospel, and the city rewarded me for every word.
Good office. Good clothes. People who stepped aside when I walked past.
A life built on air.

Now look at me.
Dust on my boots.
Hair tied up in a scarf that smells like old smoke.
Hands that haven’t touched a polished desk in years.

You wouldn’t recognise me.
You wouldn’t want to.

But at least what I do now matters.

The City Above, the Burrows Below

Emerald Heights is beautiful if you don’t mind beauty built on suffering.
The towers shine. They always have.

The Upper City sits above everything like it earned the right.
Up there, the air smells like lemon trees.

Down here, it smells like metal and sweat.
The levels drop in neat little rings.
The richer you are, the closer you live to the sky.
The poorer you are, the deeper you go.
Most people never see daylight.
Some die before they even realise what sunlight feels like.

They told us the world burned fifty years ago.
They told us nothing survived.
They told us the domes were our salvation.

Plenty of telling.
Not much truth.

When I walk the tunnels, I can hear the city humming above me.
Like a beast chewing through people and spitting out whatever’s left.

I used to admire it.

Now I carry spinach through its veins.

The Delivery

This morning I’m in Service Tunnel 7A.
Narrow path. Old walls. Pipes that groan with every step.

The crate on my back shifts.
Fresh greens. Real eggs. Food that shouldn’t exist down here.
Dangerous because it gives people strength.

A whisper comes through a grate.
“Vance.”
The panel opens. Skit appears. Nineteen. All eyes and sharp edges.

“You’re late,” she says.

“The ladders tried to kill me again,” I tell her.

She grins. “But you lived.”

Inside the chamber, faces wait in the dark.
Thin people. Tired people. Mothers holding babies close.
They know who I used to be.
They know why I’m here now.

A mechanic opens the crate.
The smell hits him and he closes his eyes like he’s remembering spring.

“Bless you, Mara.”

“Eat,” I say. Nothing more.

This isn’t charity.
This is balance.

Every life kept alive down here slows the machine above.

As I turn to leave, Skit runs up.

“A package came for you.”

No one sends me anything anymore.

She hands me a metal tube.

Old clasp.
Too familiar.
I don’t open it.

Not in front of anyone.

I walk back into the tunnels with that old feeling I hoped I’d buried.

The Leak

My hideout is an old hydro room.
Cold. Dead pipes.
Nobody comes this far down except ghosts.

I open the tube.

Inside is a filament.
Thin. Almost weightless.
Encrypted.

Only one person ever used these.

Elias Hart.
My mentor.
The one man who made me believe we could fix the system.
He vanished eight years ago.
They told us it was an accident.

A clean lie.

I plug the filament into my reader.
A blueprint appears.
An old one.
So old I’ve never seen it in any archive.

It shows the Deadwater Expanse.

Except it isn’t dead.
The map shows green.
Trees.
Hydro systems.
A hidden island with landing pads.

And at the top:

Project Aurelia – Overseen by the Rothwell Family

I sit very still.
The Rothwells.
The name people whisper but never say.
The family behind Emerald Heights.
The money.
The power.
The ones nobody ever sees.

I thought they were a rumour.
I thought the island was a myth.

Seems I was wrong on both counts.

More files open:

Supply drops.
Footage of forests.
Clear skies.
Healthy soil.
A world reborn and kept from everyone else.

Then the final file.
Audio.

Mara… the world healed… they lied… Aurelia is paradise… they plan to trim the lower levels… you must -

Cut off.
Not ended.
Silenced.

The room feels colder.
The truth heavier.

The world isn’t dying.
It was taken.

Flashback: The Fall

It hits me hard.
Years ago, I found a proposal in the Ministry’s system.
Cold language.

Calculated numbers.
Population thinning.
Reduction of “non-productive levels.”

Redirect food to the Heights.

I read it three times before the truth landed like a blade.
They were planning to starve the bottom levels.

Quietly.
Quiet enough for no one to notice.

I marched into the boardroom.
I still had authority then.

“Who approved this?” I asked.

Director Hollis barely blinked.
“It comes from the Rothwells.”

As if that settled the matter.
As if their name made it acceptable.

I resigned by morning.
Escorted out before lunch.

They stripped me of everything except the one thing they couldn’t take:
The knowledge that the system wasn’t broken.
It was designed this way.

Now Elias has dragged the truth back into my hands.

And the Rothwells won’t let that go.

The Revelation

I bring the blueprint to the Tunnel Hands.

Skit gathers everyone into an old maintenance hub.
Metal table.
Flickering lights.

I lay out the map.
Silence.

“That’s the Deadwater,” someone says.

“No,” I tell them. “That’s the lie. This is the Island of Aurelia.”

The map glows green under their hands.

A woman points at a symbol.
“What’s this?”

“Landing pad. Regular shipments.”

“Food?” Skit asks.

“Food. Medicine. Technology. Everything we’re told we can’t have.”

Faces tighten.
Anger.
Shock.
Hunger.

I show them the crest.

Silver tree. Twelve roots.
The Rothwells.

The room breaks into furious whispers.

“So, the rich live in paradise while we starve?”

“Not the rich,” I say. “One family. The ones who run everything.”

“What do we do?”

I steady myself.

“We show the city.”

The Decision

I don’t sleep.

Rebellion sounds romantic until you’ve watched a government erase people.
I’ve watched it.
I wrote policies that enabled it.

If we expose this, there will be chaos.

If we stay silent, the lower levels will disappear one by one.
I hold the data crystal.

Elias knew exactly what he was doing.
He knew I wouldn’t walk away.

“Alright,” I whisper.
“Let’s end it.”

The Broadcast

Stealing a patrol drone takes half the night.
Those machines see everything.
But Skit finds the blind spot.
The others block the feed.

When I attach the crystal and climb onto the chassis, my hands are steady.
My heart isn’t.

“Ready?” Skit asks.

“No. But go.”

She triggers the relay.

All across the levels, screens flicker.
Freeze.
Then play.

The island fills every surface.
Green trees.
Blue sky.
Water so clear you could drink straight from the shore.

Crates with the Rothwell crest.
Fresh produce.
Birdsong.
Light.

Then my voice:

“Emerald Heights has lived in a lie.
The planet survived.
Aurelia is real.
The Rothwells kept it for themselves.
And they let you rot.”

The city erupts.

The truth spreads faster than any order can shut it down.

Aftermath

By evening the lower levels rise.
People push upwards through old shafts and broken lifts.
Hope is a dangerous fuel.

AI drones try to contain it, but human fury is louder.

Barriers fall.
Level by level.

Skit stands beside me on the hydro tower.

“You did it.”

“No,” I say. “We did.”

Below us, people step into sunlight for the first time.
Tentative.
Almost afraid.

A boy lifts his hand toward the sky like he’s testing if it’s real.

Something in me cracks open.
The woman I used to be - the one who believed in rebuilding the world - stirs again.

“Well,” I say, “the world wasn’t dead.”

Skit looks at me.
“So, what was it?”

“Stolen.”

And we take it back.

Thank you for reading this prompt. I actually enjoyed this. Yes once again some research and discussion with my son who watches these types of movies was important - I enjoy these Bradley Ramsey prompts. They really make me think out of the box.

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