Dragonfly: A Tale of the Counter-Earth at the Cosmic Antipodes by Raphael Ordoñez

leap and shot straight up into the still-moving parts of the machine. Swinging from bar to bar, I made my way to the darkness above it, streaking myself with black grease.
    Now I was in the trusses, above the hanging gaslights, practically invisible from below. “Come out, come out, little man,” Talan sang, strolling out among the equipment. He reached the middle of the room and looked up, tossing his baton in his hand. The inmates remained in their places at either end of the gauntlet, watching the fun.
    I leaped silently through the rafters until I was over Talan. From there I dove into empty space, caught hold of a chain, pivoted, and landed on my feet. I planted a blow on Talan’s sternum and another on his jaw. His head snapped back and he dropped his baton. I caught it and flipped it in my hand.
    Now Talan’s fist was hurtling toward my cheek. I stepped outside its arc and clipped the arm with the bar. The bone snapped. A tap on the face finished the job.
    The two helots lounging beside the door hadn’t intervened. The gymnasium was too crowded and dim for them to see what was happening. I dashed toward them, leaping over beams and dodging machines. They hadn’t time even to draw their own batons before they crumpled under my blows. I took the keys and went through the door.
    Now I was in the corridor. I made for the gate I’d noticed and struck down the porter. Beyond was a hall, huge and dim. Helot shanties were tucked here and there into corners. There were heaps of rubbish and hawkers of wares and fires in big barrels for light.
    I searched the ring for the key. Nothing fit the lock. I began going through the porter’s pockets. Now footsteps sounded behind me. I turned. Seven helots were approaching incautiously, confident in their numbers. I made them less so by felling four before the rest bore me down. A blow crashed into the back of my skull, and a black curtain descended.
    *          *          *          *          *

    It was the pain in my shins that drove me awake. I was slumped in a tall, narrow cage, just large enough to let a man stand, but not sit or lie down. I couldn’t even turn or bend over to rub my legs. I was in a big, dark room full of junk.
    Bare feet flapped against the floor behind me. Granny slouched into view, wrapped in a dirty quilt. “You’ve done for my boy,” she whined. “He’ll never work again. It’s the choppers for him now.”
    “What did you expect?” I said. The old woman didn’t answer. “What are you going to do with me?”
    “Granny paid a lot for you, and she’s going to get her money’s worth. You’ll go into the pit today. It won’t be pretty, but it will be entertaining. Enough for a small profit, anyway. Enjoy your last hours.” She smiled thinly, making folds of her pendulous cheeks. Her rheumy eyes wrinkled with glee.
    “I’m not finished off yet,” I said.
    “Yet,” she replied, grinning, showing her white gums. She waddled back out the way she had come.
    The hours marched by. I continually shifted my weight and flexed my muscles to keep from getting cramped or stiff. I was going to be ready for the final spring.
    At last it was time. A few of Granny’s helot servants came in and hoisted up my cage and set it on a trestle with wheels. I was drawn through the cell block and down the twisting corridors and out into Hela. The byways were crowded now. Most of the men were returning from the fields or the factories. They were thin and short, with stringy, hard-looking muscles. The women were fat, and paler than the men, as though they never went outside at all. There were no children.
    I began to recognize where I was. Soon I was bumping down a familiar flight of stairs and rolling into the room lined with benches. It was full of misfits like those in Granny’s dungeons. I recognized a few but not all.
    My handlers stood my cage up in a corner and went out. No one spoke to me. One by one the misfits went through the three