After grabbing a quick shower to wash off the worst of the waste processing stench, I check my tablet for my afternoon schedule. Training Facility 7 from 1500-1600. I've still got the lingering smell of industrial cleaners on my skin despite my best efforts, but at least I'm not dripping with filtration sludge anymore.

  The corridors of Block D feel almost pleasant after four hours in the facility's bowels. I make my way through the utilitarian passages toward Facility 7, my body sore from the physical labor but my mind buzzing with the knowledge I've gained about the waste processing systems.

  About twenty independents are already using the various stations when I arrive, each focused on developing specific aspects of their abilities.

  I notice Iris working with another enhanced human with similar iridescent scaling, perhaps a relative or someone with compatible powers. Vex is nowhere to be seen, but the electrical woman from yesterday's orientation is generating controlled current arcs between metal poles.

  The telekinetic training area consists of several stations designed to test different aspects of the ability, precision, strength, duration, and fine control. Most of the equipment is outdated compared to what sponsored assets use, but functional enough for development.

  I begin with basic exercises, lifting and manipulating objects of increasing mass. After the grueling labor assignment, it feels good to use my abilities openly, even in this limited context. My telekinetic energy responds more fluidly than before, as if the meditation during sleep has improved my neural pathways.

  About twenty minutes into my session, a new group enters the facility, three independents I haven't seen before. They move with the confident swagger of veterans, scanning the room with calculating eyes. The leader, a muscular woman with what appear to be bone protrusions along her forearms, spots me and changes direction.

  "You're the new independent who rejected the Crystalline Consortium," she states, stopping at the edge of my training area. "Heard about your molecular reconstruction trick too."

  I continue my exercise, adding more objects to my telekinetic orbit. "Word travels fast."

  "I'm Shatter," she says, flexing her arm to make the bone protrusions extend slightly. "Been independent for ten months. One of the longest-running."

  Her companions flank her, a thin man with dark veins visible beneath pale skin, and a shorter woman whose eyes shift colors constantly.

  "This is Toxin and Irix," Shatter introduces them. "We run the independent faction in Block D-East."

  I set down the orbiting objects carefully. "Didn't realize independents had factions."

  Shatter laughs, a harsh sound. "Course we do. You think everyone comes here for the same fucking reasons? Some want freedom to develop without control. Others just couldn't get the sponsors they wanted."

  "Or they were just too weak." Toxin adds with a laugh.

  Shatter steps forward, the bone protrusions on her arms flexing slightly. "We noticed you've been talking with Marcus and his group. They've got their own agenda, heavy on the rebellion rhetoric, light on actual results."

  "And what's your agenda?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral while assessing their energy signatures. Shatter's bone manipulation appears to extend to density control, Toxin's blood chemistry is clearly altered, and Irix's shifting eyes suggest optical manipulation of some kind.

  "Practical survival," Shatter responds. "We don't waste time with fantasy rebellions or escape plans. We work the system, trading information, building influence with the right facility staff, pooling resources."

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  Irix smiles coldly. "Marcus thinks the path forward is burning everything down. We know better. There's power in understanding how to work within constraints."

  Shatter steps closer, lowering her voice. "Independence is about choices. Who you align with is your first real one. Marcus has his Umbra network and underground meetings. We have practical benefits, better nutrition supplements, priority access to training equipment, protection from sponsored assets looking for practice targets."

  "And what do you want from me?" I ask directly.

  "Your potential is obvious," Toxin says, dark veins pulsing. "Telekinetics are valuable, especially ones with molecular manipulation abilities. We could use someone with your skills in our group."

  "In exchange for what?"

  Shatter grins, bone protrusions retracting slightly. "Protection, resources, and information. Including how to navigate labor assignments to your advantage. I heard you got waste processing for your first day, we could have gotten you something cleaner."

  Before I can respond, the electrical woman from across the facility approaches. "Recruiting already, Shatter? The newbie's barely had time to shower off the shit from his first assignment."

  Shatter's expression hardens. "Stay out of this, Volt. Not everyone wants to play guerrilla fighter in the maintenance tunnels."

  Volt, apparently her chosen name, lets electricity dance between her fingers. "And not everyone wants to be a collaborator trading favors with facility staff." She turns to me. "These three have a reputation for selling information about other independents to get preferential treatment."

  Toxin steps toward her, dark veins pulsing angrily. "That's a dangerous accusation."

  The tension in the air thickens as other independents notice the confrontation developing. Some continue their training, deliberately ignoring the potential conflict, while others watch with wary interest.

  "Just offering the new blood options," Shatter says, backing away slightly. "Unlike some, we believe in freedom of choice." She fixes me with a final appraising look. "Think about it. We'll find you when you're ready to talk more seriously."

  As the three depart, Volt remains, the electricity around her hands gradually subsiding. "Sorry about that. Block D has its politics just like everywhere else in this fucking place."

  "Different factions of independents?" I ask, returning to my telekinetic exercises but keeping my attention on her.

  Volt nods, the short, spiky hair on her head carrying a faint static charge that makes individual strands stand slightly apart. A thin scar runs from her left temple to her jaw, creating a line of damaged tissue that doesn't conduct her electrical field.

  "Two main groups in Block D," she explains, leaning against a nearby support column. "Marcus leads what some call the Resistors, focused on understanding the facility infrastructure, mapping weaknesses, preparing for... well, something bigger eventually."

  She gestures toward the door where Shatter's group exited. "Then there's the Pragmatists, like our bone-loving friend there. They've accepted this place as their new reality and focus on making it as comfortable as possible. Trading favors, information, sometimes selling out other independents for privileges."

  "And everyone is in one of these two camps?" I ask, adding more complexity to my telekinetic pattern to maintain the appearance of routine training.

  "Oh, no." Volt replies with a grin. "Barely half of the Independents are in these two groups. The rest have their own little cliques they like to hang out with."

  The training facility hums with activity around us, other independents working with their various abilities. I notice several watching our conversation with peripheral awareness, clearly interested in which way the new independent might lean.

  "Everyone expects you to join a group?" I ask, setting down the objects I've been manipulating.

  Volt shrugs, small sparks cascading from her shoulders with the movement. "Eventually, most do. Hard to survive completely alone here. But no rush, observe, evaluate, decide for yourself."

  She straightens up, preparing to return to her own training. "Just be careful with Shatter's group. Their protection comes with strings, and they're not above using people as disposable assets when necessary."

  Before leaving, she adds one final comment: "Training Facility 7 has fewer monitoring blindspots than 9, but the acoustic dampeners near the weight stations create dead zones for audio surveillance. Good place for private conversations."

  Ugh, and here I thought I had left faction politics behind when I rejected sponsorship.

  I continue my training session, working through increasingly complex telekinetic applications while processing everything I've learned today, the facility infrastructure from my labor assignment, the independent factions from Volt, and the potential allies and enemies forming around me.