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The Hearth in the center of the Artery would be lit by now. It's only a few seconds before the door open.

I briefly ponder running toward to far end of the Artery and living with the Unified People in the Artery, but I decide that I would hate it there. Even though I hate it among the harshness of my own clan, those people would be too sensitive for me. I just don't belong anywhere.

I walk briskly back to my chambers, hoping Mother isn't up yet. She usually wakes up after the door opens because she works in a different clan during the day.

I walk into my bedchamber and pull open the Book of Creation. I usually read the first bit every morning.

War raged among the villages, all wanting more land and more power. The Vonicans, who'd ruled over the entire continent for years, suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth. Shortly after their disappearance ancient Roman religion set in and the wars only continued, creating what is now known as Italy in the old Vonicans territory. No one knows where the Vonicans, or their leader, Alvus Constantine disappeared to.

I close the book. After that small section, I usually give up because my attention is lost.

The Vonicans are what the Aboveground called us before we disappeared. Over the years we've given ourselves the name Grounders, and the history of Vonica's disappearance was lost entirely to Above-grounders records. We were basically wiped of the face of the earth.

My great, great, great, great, great (you get the point) grandfather was Alvus Constantine, the ruler of the Vonicans when they were Vonicans. Before the Great Wars began and the Vonicans sealed them selves underground, Alvus Constantine ruled over a flourishing empire the controlled nearly all of Eurasia, and large part of North America and Africa. No other religion existed back then except for the ideal that Constantine was divine. He ruled over everything, believed to be watching all of his people.

Until the First Rebellion began in North America. The people know as Viyakans wanted to be self-governed. The war spread all throughout the world. Finally Constantine was tried of it. He brought six thousand of his most loyal Vonicans to the tunnels with him and created a a species called the dinosaur to wipe out his warring people.

It was said that one day the Grounders would return to Earth to rebuild itself. That hasn't happened yet obviously and I don't think it will in my lifetime.

Mother isn't awake yet so when I'm done mulling over history, the only school topic that captures my attention in the slightest, I grab my school bag and leave early.

I wander around the main tunnel of my clan chamber, people are wandering the corridors now, getting on with their business. Some cast me revolting glances as I walk past them. I return the glare, hoping I have ten times as much venom packed into my features as they do. I am sick of them thinking I'm an easy target. One boy who flinched at me when I glared back and for some reason that made me smile. It refreshing to have control, even if it's merely a thimbleful of it.

The door leading into the Artery is open, gaping to the darkness outside. Some people carry around lamps, and other walk around without assistance. Over the millions and millions of years the Grounders have lived in the darkness, echolocation has been branded into our genes, but some of us just can't get ahold of it. I'm lucky that I'm able to use, even if I do have to mentally turn it on.

The Artery is a massive tunnel. Everyone else can compare it to things like trees and the sun, all I can tell you is that every single one of the three million Grounders can fit easily into the tunnel with much breathing room. My friend Cicada once told me that the tunnel stretches as high as the Nile River was wide. I have no idea what she meant by that, but I assume it's very wide.

Runnels cut through the floor of the Artery, there a five of them and they supply the seven clans with fresh water from wherever the little streams begin.

I step over one of the runnels and cross the Artery to the Verro Clan cambers.

A guard armed with a single sword is posted in front of the columns making up the portico in front of the entrance to the Verro Clan. The doors are made from heavy stone, and slide into the walls when a certain button is pushed.

One of the guards steps forward as I approach the portico. Her holds a steel rod in his hands. I flinch away from it instinctively but quickly regain myself. If I hope to be an official soldier of Verro on day, I have to seem strong.

"What's your business here, ma'am?"

I feel my cheeks warm with anger as I pull my hair off my face. "I'm a boy."

"My apologies," he says. His eyes narrow when he sees the black marking on the back of my hand, the lyre of the made-up Roman god Phoebus. The same symbol Alvus Constantine wore in the center of his chest the day he brought six thousand people into the tunnels. It is said he got all the marking the day because the had magical power to make the people Aboveground forget about the existence of the Vonicans, in their place was many different religions that described the divine power Constantine actually possessed.

He recognized me. Mercifully he said nothing of my identity. "What's your business here, sir?"

"I'm almost sixteen," I say, "let's call it browsing."

"We live in a tunnel," the guard said, "there is no need for a military as the Council sees it, you can just keep walking."

I turn without saluting respectfully to the guard. I don't get a lick of what I want in my own clan. That changes when I'm outside whether it wants to or not.

I take a wide detour through the crowd, letting myself get lost to the watchful eye of the Verro guards.

Then I creep into the shadows of tunnel, right up next to the left side of the portico entrance. I have this habit of becoming invisible, except for inside my own clan, there they just shun me or cause me harm. At least out here no one does anything bad or good to me.

I slip through the side column, holding my breath and moving my feet painstakingly slow. I don't know why I want to visit Verro so badly, I just don't want to be in Daws Chambers where Carter is inevitably waiting for my arrival at the schoolroom.

I can feel my heart hammering against my ribcage. It's so loud I'm afraid the soldiers will here it and turn around.

I am still comfortably hidden in the shadows, but if the man guarding the far left column were to turn he'd see me.

Finally I make into the doorway. I've had enough of this sneakiness. I let go of a breath and bolt into the Verro Chambers before the soldiers have a chance to realize I got passed them.

I wander aimlessly for a moment, hoping to find the separate cavern where the soldiers train or the barracks. I'll be like them one day. Strong and able to defend myself. Them maybe people would stop mistaking me for a girl.

Verro is more organized than Daws. With martial law strictly in place, the people don't act out or beat people whenever they'd like. The people walk in lanes, then one on the left going toward the exit, and the other is streaming deeper into the chamber, like a vein headed for the heart.

I fall into step behind a young man, who looks nearly my age, holding the hand of a little girl who's hardly four. I am able to catch tidbits of their conversation.

"Daddy's going to become a soldier in a few months," the boy says to the little girl, "that way you and mom will have food in our own clan."

He must be talking about them Nevex Clan. They are partiers. The run nightclubs and bars and theaters, mostly entertainment. Famous entertainers live amongst them mostly. They are on a strict budget that is used for their services, so they have the largest amount of bums. His clan might explain why he got a girl pregnant at ten years old as well.

The stream of people leads into a narrow cavern. Torches placed securely in their sconces line the walls.

We must be heading to the training cavern. I follow steadily, looking toward the exit to the tunnel hoping it appears soon. My fingers furl and unfurl in anticipation.

The cavern is massive, about six stories above me and one story below. The tunnel steams into a wide bright overlooking the training field. Soldiers with steel rods quarrel with each other, the clank of metal on metal reverberating off the stone walls.

Up above terraces are carved into the wall, with torches mounded along the levels to light the entirely room. The highest level is encased in some kind of clear, hard substance. That's the Council level. The Council of the Network is based in Verro because Verro in the only military in the Network and can protect the Councilmen for any rebellion outside of clan.

I tear my eyes away, my eyes skimming over the war machine that line the wall of the training field. Catapults, cannons, javelin launchers, stacks of mysterious looking crates. There are also some more advanced weapons. All the Council will tell us about that it they are very dangerous and not to be put into the hands of anyone. They are an extra precaution.

I slip into the line heading out of the training field and try to keep my eyes ahead. I know that if I look around something will catch my eye. I could be in here for hours, but I have to be at the school room is twenty minutes.

I am consumed with curiosity. It rips at the muscles in my neck, wanting me to turn my head and observe. But if I know what's best for me, then I'll stay foreword.

Then I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes no longer pinned forward.

Down below I watch as two soldiers practice deflecting each other's steel rod. One manages to disable the other's hold on his weapon, sending it across the floor. The armed soldier smacks his opponent hard across the ribs. He staggers sideways as the armed soldier pivots around and slams his steel rod into his opponents head. The soldier falls to the ground, unconscious.

I wish I could help him. I wish I could jump down there and tackle his opponent to the ground. I wish I could pick up the steel rod a beat some sense into the man who thought it was okay to knock someone unconscious. My imagination takes over and I see myself beating the soldiers senseless. I see blood as other soldiers try to tear me away but I'm too strong, to focused on dishing out the punishment. I watch as the rod crushes the bones in his face, turning him into a much of flesh and blood and shards of bone...

I relish the thought. In my imagination I am strong. I am brave enough to take action, to follow my instincts. In my mind I punch Carter back, and push Mother away when she raises her rod to inflict pain on me. In my mind I am the strongest, bravest and most important person in the Network.

But in reality I'm none of those things. In reality the soldier still stands, fully intact, with his unconscious opponent on the ground next to him. In reality Mother, Educator Alexia, and Carter have no bruises, I am forced to beat them all. In reality I am scared, weak, and an outcast.

In reality I'm just Alaric Constantine, the boy who could never Dream.