Dean awoke with a fit of coughs and cursed under his breath, which was quite a feat whilst violently coughing. He would have to get himself a new air mask, or at least a new filter, he briefly considered notifying the company for a replacement but quickly dismissed that notion as foolish. From the rumours at the employment office His predecessor had been fired for pushing for more equipment. Dean didn't want to test his luck. He hastily ran through his options in his head, his job only paid once every month and he had already spent his earnings (his quarters and rations were provided for efficiency) but he reckoned he could find a redundant system to scrap (the system was such a mess that there was no way someone was keeping track; surviving several centuries does that to a system).
He threw his jacket on and deftly tied his shoelaces before pacing over to the ticket dispenser; his first job of the day was to fix a broken fountain at the park a few blocks over. The description was vague but he supposed he knew the system in his turf better than anyone and the extra work was made up for by the location; whilst he could never actually visit the park, the smog underneath it was diminished by the condensation from the many fountains above. He washed and replaced his filter, not that it made much difference, and sighed slightly at his predicament before continuing on. As he climbed out of the hatch of his lodging into the vast expanse of metallic grey he pondered on what a park might look like, there was many a time when he fantasized about popping up for a second through a grate to take a look. From the stories he'd heard as a child those who dwelled above didn't take kindly to those below, but he had always wondered all the same.
He climbed through a hazy steel hatch and cut a brisk but odd pace around various pipelines and wires; he knew this route like the back of his hand. The park had been his favourite place, especially since he'd found the perfect space to eavesdrop. He climbed through a final hatch into a vast room (if you could call it that) with a low ceiling and rather more bronze than steel; there was little need for electricity in the park but water was in high demand. He shut the hatch behind him and removed his tattered mask, by the looks of it it had once been top of the range but age and its many users had not been kind to it. There were few places he could remove his air mask and he cherished each one, he felt a slight pang of jealousy of those who he was serving, who could go about their day without once remarking on an air mask. The fountain of his deference had a bust pipe, Dean managed a temporary fix (largely through determination) and made a note to order a new pipe, their clients at least, the company provided for.
After he had completed his task he nimbly climbed up to his usual spot; an old drain which had long ago served its original purpose but which Dean had retrofitted for his own. He knew tardiness could result in termination for many others but his skill compared with the bad track record of the previous mechanics allowed him some slack, and besides this was the only time he could reliably catch professor Morrison. The Professor was (apparently) renowned for his lectures and from what he had heard of the Professor's rants this reputation was aptly placed. From the sounds of it Morrison was with a certain fellow professor of his, Dean hadn't managed to catch the man's name but he was the preferred partner of professor Morrison seemingly due to his willingness to listen without interruption, as Morrison was prone to go off on tangents about the matter of the day. This day in particular though the Professor was on his most beloved subject, which Dean supposed he was responsible for teaching, the history of the man who started it all; Professor Tyrell Byrne.
Everyone in Kutaruu had the name Tyrell Byrne ingrained in their memory. He was the great creator, he had saved all those willing to be saved, their immortal leader, the answer to all of their questions - 'why do we have to stay below?', 'why is the air so thick with smoke?', Tyrell Byrne. Always Tyrell Byrne. Dean had grown up in awe of Tyrell and he resented Tyrell as much for what he did as he admired him for it. When the Professor first spoke in wonder of Tyrell Dean assumed that his privilege had tinted his view, but Dean was bored and starved of human interaction so he listened on anyway. By time the Professor's lunch was over he had had to reconsider everything he thought he knew.
Over 300 years ago a council came together, they had calculated that the world as they knew it would be at an end within 100 years, that was the timeline on which they placed their extinction. They had long ago resigned any hope of extending this deadline by more than an arbitrary amount and were making preparations to make the end as pleasant as a mass extinction could be. It was then; the story goes that the young engineer burst into their office. He pleaded with them to hear him out and, desperate, they agreed. 'The company' was set up, it was sure to have had a name but it had long been lost for absence of other companies to refer to, and so, naturally 'the company' became the accepted term. 'The company' had a plan, that was more than most could say, their ideas were radical, but as Tyrell had once assured the council, that was necessary. Tyrell's idea was a great city, one built high into the sky, it was a goal only his great mind could accomplish, and that it did. That was the story that Dean knew, as did everyone who remained, they were to remember their saviour, the one who put them where they were.
It was only as he was eavesdropping that he began to learn more than the myth propagated by the Company; history turned into justifying legend.
Tyrell's ingenuity was essential to the construction of the City but as the building went on his health began to deteriorate. In response the Company put large amounts of money into advances in the field of medicine, causing huge advancement and eventually saving him. As an added bonus, this new technology lengthened his life span considerably (this technology would go on to be used by the Company to attract even more investment into their project). With his newfound longevity he watched over the development of the city. He watched as the city expanded upwards covering itself with a new layer, each one built with the latest advancements in technology, ad a place of great beauty and enlightenment grew before him.
But even as he saw his vision realised his power began to diminish; the Professor began to get weaker again, physically speaking he was as healthy as ever but his words began to have less impact. Due to disputes with the Company he was slowly moved into the background- his vision taken from him. The company was becoming independent, he had shown them all they needed to survive and now their goal was maintaining the status quo. The lower floors became more and more neglected as the upper floors flourished with the aid of the most advanced technology. Tyrell's position became more and more symbolic; and when the Company started to take even that away from him he disappeared, he had not been seen for over a hundred years.
Most believed that the Company's technology had failed him, whether by their choice or otherwise, but Professor Morrison believed he had left the City. The Professor's partner at the time just laughed when he first brought up his theory and Dean himself had to suppress a snort. Morrison's partner was adamant that no one could survive out there - the toxic air and infertile land would surely kill any intrepid, or stupid, adventurer - but Morrison was sure of himself.