Those two words struck his supercomputer-like brain like a pair of sledgehammers. His mind raced, processing a possibility he had never considered. The future he saw had always been a linear, irreversible reel of bloody footage, and he had merely been its passive, tormented viewer. It had never occurred to him that he could become an "editor."
As he watched Konrad sink into thought, Warren's tone softened. He reached out and gently took Konrad's enormous, cold hand, which trembled slightly with anger and confusion.
"Come along, child."
"Let me show you how one person's kindness can become a 'variable' that changes the future."
The air of the Underhive was always murky and cold.
Holding Konrad's hand, Warren walked through the filthy, slippery alleys. Konrad said nothing, allowing the blind old man to lead him through the familiar maze. His towering frame forced him to keep ducking to avoid the tangled pipes overhead.
It was a strange sensation. He, an apex predator who moved freely through the darkness, was now like a child venturing outside for the first time, carefully led by the hand by a stumbling, blind old man.
Warren did not walk quickly, but he knew every inch of the place. He always managed to avoid the pools of sewage underfoot and skirt the towering heaps of foul-smelling rubbish.
Before long, they reached the Porters' Camp in Underhive Zone Three.
It was a relatively open area, with dozens of crude shacks crammed together. The air reeked of sweat, alcohol, and cheap tobacco. Its residents were all laborers at the bottom of society, men like Leo who sold their strength hauling goods for the factories and the Gang in the middle and upper levels.
They found Leo's shack. It had been cobbled together from a few sheets of rusted