[ WP ] Humanity has refused to leave Earth , opting instead to build upwards into an ever-expanding world-city surrounding the planet . For an unknown reason , you have been tasked with finding the original surface .

Coen woke up. 
 
 His head was throbbing and he didn ’ t feel right overall. He pondered over the potential reasons for a minute - the fact that his father never really loved him was a possibility, as was world hunger, genocide and people in overly skinny jeans sipping their lattes at a coffee shop somewhere downstairs. The people in jeans he hated the most, his father being a close second. Coen didn ’ t like jeans. He preferred people without them. 
 
 That last thought seemed to ring a bell. He continued wondering for a bit more when suddenly the realization hit him like a flock of wild geese hits an airplane. There was a party. 
 
 Coen smiled and got up, but immediately regretted the decision and went for the floor, telling himself that he is just going to lie here, next to the couch. The carpet was very nice. 
 
 The party was wild. Drinks, music, light and girls, lots of girls. People from all over the 476th. Fun all night long. After all, what were the funds of the Department of Urban Planning for, if not for parties? 
 
 Coen was still considering the question, slowly drifting towards the general meaning of life and the existence of the tooth fairy, when the doorbell rang. 
 
 Coen cursed the stars. Then, realizing he was being unfair, he cursed everything between the stars as well. He was taught never to discriminate, even while swearing. The door rang again. Coen cursed whoever was up this early in the morning, then, seeing that the bell was going to keep on ringing, he also cursed their parents and grandparents. By the time he opened the door, the family of the person standing behind it had no hope whatsoever. 
 
 The person seemed vaguely familiar. Coen could bet anything he had seen him somewhere, which would have been a pretty safe bet considering that the person standing outside his apartment was his own brother. 
 
 
 The door opened, and there stood Coen. 
 
 To Conrad ’ s surprise, Coen could stand fairly perpendicular to the ground below. That always seemed to surprise Conrad, because every time he himself got drunk, he had found the position to be an uncomfortable reminder that he was still alive the next morning. It didn ’ t happen too often though, and for that Conrad was somewhat thankful. 
 
 He had other matters on his mind though. As Coen stood there, apparently trying to remember just who exactly he was looking at, Conrad stepped towards him, grabbed him by the shoulders and started violently shaking him. 
 
 “ Hey! What the hell, dude?! ”, screamed Coen, who seemed genuinely annoyed at the fact that a person just woke him up, burst into his apartment, and was now trying to use him as a baby rattle. 
 
 “ What the hell were you doing here? What the hell were you thunking, hah? ” 
 
 “ Dude, what are you talking about? Stop doing this, for Pete ’ s sake! ” 
 
 Conrad looked him dead in the eye. 
 
 “ Did. You. Invite. Half. Of. Our. Level. Over. Last. Night ”, he said, more as a statement than a question, pausing to give Coen another shake after each word. 
 
 “ Yeah, dude, you missed the whole thing, I… ” 
 
 “ And did you, by any chance, mention to anyone how clever you were to use the Department ’ s funds to pay for the whole damn thing? And for a dozen of smaller parties before that? ” 
 
 Coen found the whole questioning thing rather uncomfortable. 
 
 “ It might have slipped off ”, he nodded. “ Hah, those fools over at Urban Planning would never connect the dots. They are just a bunch of retards… ” 
 
 “ You are a retard. Have you, by any chance, use mine or Kira ’ s names to apply for more grants for your “ PR projects? ” 
 
 Coen finally slipped free and used the time to rearrange his appearance, somewhat ruffled by Conrad ’ s intrusion, in a fashion he found almost dignified given his current state. 
 
 “ So? You didn ’ t expect me to live on two bottles of champagne, did you? ” 
 
 Conrad looked at Coen with a sort of a look people give those whose days are numbered by a terminal illness. 
 
 “ Kira is going to kill you. She ’ s just going to kill you ”. 
 
 
 Coen was sitting on his couch, while Kira was racing around the room, screaming and cursing. He shot occasional glances at Conrad, who was sitting in the corner, completely distant. He was thinking of something. Coen was just hoping it didn ’ t have anything to do with murder. 
 
 “ How the fuck could you do this? Were you out of your mind? They are coming down here, Urban Planning is going to audit the whole fucking fund system, and they are doing it today, you hear me? How the hell are we going to write this off? As a bunch of fucking maps, huh? Are you kidding me? ” 
 
 This has been going for the last half an hour. Kira was screaming, Conrad was thinking and Coen was hoping to get out of this situation alive. Truth be told, he found the guys from Urban Planning much more agreeable to work with than Kira at the moment. 
 
 The phone rang with a gravity more appropriate for a juror than a thing of wire and plastic. Coen jumped. 
 
 “ It ’ s them. God damn it, it ’ s then. No one else would ring you here ”, Kira whispered. 
 
 Conrad got up. 
 
 “ What the hell are you doing? Don ’ t pick up! Hey! Stop! Yo! ”, Coen shouted, also in a whisper. But Conrad was already talking. 
 
 “ Hello, this is Urban Planning branch number 341, level 476, may I know who is speaking? ” 
 
 Both Kira and Coen grew completely silent. 
 
 “ No, this is his assistant. Yes. Yes. No, he is not here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message? ”, he listened for a moment, then continued. “ All right, thank you. I ’ ll let him know as soon as he is back ”. 
 
 He put the phone down, then turned to the silent pair. 
 
 “ They are coming over to take a look at our financial records at around 3 pm. I suggest we come up with something before that time. ” 
 
 “ Like what? ” 
 
 “ Well, there is one thing I ’ ve been thinking about… ” 
 
 
 The plan was mad, thought Coen. But hey, this was part of the reason it had to work. It had to work. Otherwise… 
 
 “ Otherwise it ’ s the end of us here. Either fines we will not be able to afford, or, and that is more likely, federal prison. And they are not going to care about whether or not you used our usernames without us knowing. They don ’ t give a shit ”. 
 
 “ So ”, Kira had her eyebrows raised in what Coen was starting to suspect was her new permanent look, “ you are suggesting that we backtrack all of the records for purchase of heavy reconnaissance and mapping equipment, plus weapons, vehicles, food and other supplies, then go down four hundred levels where hell knows what is while actually having none of those things, then bring info and maps back to the top? You ’ ve got ta be mad. You ’ re just fucking mad. ” 
 
 “ Hey, if there is a mad person here, then it ’ s him ”, replied Conrad, pointing in Coen ’ s direction. “ He ’ s got us into this shit. But hey, think about it. We make it seem as though the money was spent on something useful, plus we disappear. No one is going to send a mission after us, least of all Urban Planning.'' 
 
 “ Then we come back with something the government actually needs and not one person will give a damn about some extra money spent. ” 
 
 “ And how do you plan to get down there, might I ask? Without all of the equipment necessary? ” 
 
 “ It ’ s obvious, right? We parachute ”. 
 
 Coen was sure the plan was mad. That was probably the only reason it made sense to him that morning. 
 
 *It's really late, so I'm gon na post this and go for now. If people think this is something that they would be interested to read, I have more stuff to write tomorrow. *
