It took a long while for the woman by the wall to cease her weeping. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair disheveled, as she leaned against the wall, staring silently into the distant sky, fragile like a dewdrop on a leaf, ready to shatter at the slightest touch. Anzhe cautiously asked, "Aren't you leaving?" She shook her head, her voice hoarse, "What was he to you, the one who died?" It took Anzhe a long while to find the right words in his memory, "My... friend. He saved me." "My man saved me once too," she said, and then her head bowed low, her shoulders and back shaking with sporadic sobs, never speaking again. Clutching Vance's ID card tightly in his hand, Anzhe felt a heaviness in his heart—an emotion unfamiliar to him when he was purely a mushroom. Only when this feeling slightly subsided did he find the strength to follow the crowd's direction, lifting his legs and walking out of the passageway. At the end of the gate passage stood a row of mechanical gates; Anzhe chose the one furthest to the left. As he approached, a gentle mechanical female voice sounded, "Please present your ID card and look at the camera." Anzhe placed the ID card, belonging to Vance, onto the bright white light on the gate's right side and then looked toward the black camera ahead. "ID 3261170514, name: Anzhe. Origin: Outer City District 6, Time away from city: 27 days." The camera emitted a soft click, and the white light turned green. "Facial recognition passed, welcome home." With a ding, the gate lifted, and Anzhe walked through. The morning sun made him squint, and it took thirty seconds for his vision to clear, revealing a vast gray city before him. Around him lay expansive grounds marked with glaring green paint reading "Buffer Zone." Looking ahead, human constructions rose tall, larger even than the tallest plants Anzhe had ever seen, as if ready to topple over. They stood crowded and layered, blocking his view. Looking up, the orange sun, half-hidden behind the highest building, looked like a diluted drop of blood about to trickle down the walls. Turning back, the people who had left the city gate with him dispersed by the mechanical gates, gathering again spontaneously and moving in the same direction. Anzhe followed them, turning at a sign reading "Rail Transport" to find a train waiting on the tracks. The train bore the route: Entry-1 District-Supply Station #3-District 5-District 8-City Office-Exit. He followed the crowd aboard, finding a corner seat in the somewhat empty carriage, overhearing two robust men beside him whispering. "Coming back from Basin #3? You guys really went for broke this time." "Six of us died." "Not bad. Did you break even?" "The military's still deliberating, but I think we hit a jackpot this time." "Oh?" "We entered a deserted school in City Ruin #411 filled with mutant plants. No one dares go in," the man laughed, "We did. Found three hard drives in the library's data room, priceless treasures. It all depends on the value of the content stored." Anzhe quietly listened, not fully understanding but sensing the man's joy, so he felt a bit happier too. Knowing that happy people are often willing to help, he called out, "Sir?" Without turning back, the man asked, "What is it?" "How do I get to District 6?" "Take the transfer at the Supply Station to Line #2." "Thank you." Minutes later, the train moved, with mechanical voices announcing stops. Everything was unfamiliar to Anzhe, who arrived at the Supply Station after some effort and hops onto Line #2, finally making his way to District 6. Vance's ID number 3261170514 was not just a human identity proof but also indicated his address in Outer City District 6, building 117, apartment 0514. Yet, just off the train, about to ask for directions, a young boy grabbed him, "Hello, stranger. Welcome off the train. Would you like to learn about us?" Before Anzhe could respond, a white flyer was thrust into his hand, bled with the words in bold crimson: "Oppose the Judge□□." Uncertain but unasking, he merely inquired, "Do you know where Building 117 is?" The boy offered, "Do you mind coming with us first?" "... I don't mind." "Then we're comrades in arms." The boy waved his flyer, also emblazoned with "Abolish the Judges' Act." They weren't the only ones distributing flyers. Anzhe was soon swept into a group of about forty young faces, each wielding similar banners or jointly holding a long banner, all preaching the same message. "We volunteer to bear the cost of genetic testing." "Human sinner, the Judge." "Dissolve the Judiciary, justice for the innocents." As the crowd moved slowly forward, so did Anzhe. The city's roads were narrow, buildings casting continuous shadows on the ground. Aside from them, many adults walked with their heads down, occasionally glancing their way but quickly averting their gaze. Anzhe asked, "What are we doing?" "A silent protest," the boy explained. "We'll keep going until the Judiciary is dissolved." "... Oh." Half an hour later, Anzhe asked again about Building 117. "Just ahead, nearly there." After another half-hour, Anzhe repeated his question. "Sorry!" The boy scratched his head, "Forgot about you, we passed it. It's behind us." Pointing in a direction, "That way, not far. The building number is on the side; you'll see it." "Thank you." "No problem." Anzhe returned the flyer, "This is for you." "No need!" The boy pushed it back, "Remember to come next week! We gather at Building #1!" Holding the gory "Oppose the Judge□□" flyer and the Judge's own genetic report, Anzhe tucked them away and left the odd group of young humans, heading in the indicated direction. As he walked, the surrounding scenery grew familiar, memories belonging to Vance awakening. Following his instinct through several turns, he arrived at Building #117. Entering Unit 0, he climbed the steep, dark staircase to the fifth floor, finding room 11 in a dim corridor. A white seal tape covered the door which Anzhe peeled back to reveal the sensor area. The door unlocked, and he entered. It was a tiny room. Smaller than any cave he had lived in but much brighter and spacious than the armored car's rest area. A wooden desk against the wall held several old books, next to stacks of paper and notebooks. Directly opposite was a single bed with a nightstand holding a water cup, mirror, and assorted items, and a tall wardrobe at the bed's foot. The window on the opposite side of the bed had gray curtains partly opened, sunlight shining on the matching duvet, its dry fragrance reminiscent of Vance's scent. He approached the bed, lifting the palm-sized mirror, and his reflection greeted him. He resembled Vance, with soft black hair, similar eyes, many likenesses, yet with discernible differences. Moreover, he didn't possess Vance's gentle demeanor. Back then, Vance said, "It's like having a younger brother. I'll name you, little mushroom." "Do you have a vivid memory, little mushroom?" Only two things stood vivid in his sparse memories: the lost spores and an event from when he was tiny, merely as long as a human's little finger. During that mushroom season, he was hit by rain, breaking in half at his slender stalk. Like any injured creature, he struggled to regrow, to live. Subsequently, he healed. Since then, he seemed different from his kind, controlling his mycelium, moving freely through forests and wilderness, sensing the outside sounds and movements. He became a free mushroom.