1 - Another Day in Purgatory
Impulsively, my eyelids burst open as I heard a distant thump across 3rd St.; one similar to that of humans clashing and engaging at each other with sledgehammers. Though specific, I was in fact reminded of such, which might’ve probably been my recently interrupted dream’s focus. Drifting the stockpiles of reusable soup cans scattered across the alleyway, I slowly made my way through the disguised entrance of my shack. I did sleep outside again, at last.
Normal procedure; I carefully tip-toed along the wire-thin path, reaching the pale-brown door, and gently striking it in order to attain the rusted key, carefully placed in the upper door-gap. The extremely irritating, but usual clicking coming from the keyhole awoke the rest of the deeply asleep me, giving me a complete sense of my surroundings. Inside, the contagiously monotonous feel surrounded every one of the small shack’s corners, and nothing but rags and a barely large-enough bed were visible; though not much, it was enough. After having changed my clothes and other garments, I, undoubtedly tired, set-off to begin one more work day.
“Good morning, Mr. Adams,” I whispered as I approached the elderly man, while cursoring through 7th St., “how have you been lately? By the way, have you been hearing any loud noises this morning near 3rd St.? I heard it back home, amazingly.”
“As a matter of fact, Nicholas, I indeed have,” he calmly replied, “and both Claire and I have been woken up by such. Do you have any idea of what it might be?”
“Honestly, I would assume it to be nothing more than a boulder descending from the summit, but you never know what others could be up to.”
“Oh yes young sir, but possi—”
“Excuse me, but I surely must get going Mr. Adams,” I cut him off shortly, “I don’t want to be late for work. We’ll get in touch later, have a good one.”
Dragging my body forward as for freeing myself from what seemed like the roots of a dull conversation, I unheartedly withdrew myself from Mr. Adams’ presence and rushed towards the street’s diversion into 8th and 9th St. At every step, every uniform motion of my part, I unpurposely, while striding past a huge, dark gap, boomed my feet onto a frail plank below, covering last week’s boulder-accident hole which occupied the whole of a road-side’s width. Curiosity filled me; I momentarily gazed at the hole beneath, now seemingly an endless abyss. I abruptly felt the surface below shake under my feet, and in a matter of seconds, I desperately, but cautiously managed to reach steady ground again, stabilizing my heartbeat.
Reaching the diversion, I took my path onto 9th St., and found several Grey-Coats to be exerting what was told us at last week’s general meeting; finally would 9th St. contain lightposts.
“Now just twenty-nine more to go!” I exclaimed sarcastically at the useless workers, indolent as they were. It has been years since the successful establishment of North SZ, and just then were they implementing basic lighting sources into one out of the thirty streets. As I passed by, they presented me with various death stares as though frantically showing such inefficiency was not of their doing. Yet, they briskly returned to their tasks, consistently installing the lightposts.
The unpleasant sight of a rusty, old cable car just right ahead, at 10th, rapidly reminded me of how unappreciative I was towards being a Blue-Coat, due to repetitively having to complete similar tasks daily. As I approached it, the more visible it was; clear, nitid specks of steel stood out right through the vast rust, covering the entire surface of the car, and progressively increasing my daily fear of risking myself on a trip to the summit inside such a decayed vehicle.
The irregular squeaking of the vehicle’s sliding-doors deafened me, and as I walked through them, my so called fear of heights, which in fact turned to be of everything, awoke. I was trembling and sweating cold, and most of all, confused on how I had only felt such fear that day, after having been a Blue-Coat already for several months. Obviously, when the doors had been shut, and the vehicle, readied to depart, the squeaking cessated. However, a new noise arose. The sound of metal grinding against metal filled the air, and soon enough, the car was in movement, heading towards the summit.
Such view, such incredible panoramic vision of the the valley, and all, only accessible through the riding of the cable car. So, these were its perks; though horrifically scary, the breathtaking sight of the world surrounding me, compensated the inconvenience of having to put up with such fear. Hundreds of meters, possibly several kilometers, set the vehicle apart from the ground; Uprightly, a ghostly ground, with a huge number of barely visible ruins through the thick mist. Remnants and fragments of what the valley once was, were scattered across the vast greyish plains, reminding me of the horror we had once been forced to live through. Beside the distant ruins, various small figures could be seen clearly, stumbling along, causing me to turn my sight back to the summit in panic.
As the car continuously approximated the mountain’s peak, more of the dim sun rays shone across my face, rewarding me with the slightest possible bit of happiness. It had been days since the sun hid behind the valley, disappearing from people’s sight, and consequently immersing North SZ into obscurity.
Eventually, the vehicle came to a stop. Thundering from outside, into the the concrete tube, and reaching the car, a tenor voice could be heard.
“Blue-Coats! ...follow...then make your left...mines!” That was all I could discern due to the ridiculous amount of echo and the roaring from the announcer’s part.
And so, I followed the orders, or at least what I understood of them. Down the tube I went; the walls, gritty and thick, were giving me a ridiculous sense of claustrophobia, as if they were to collapse at any time. Startled, I began pacing faster and faster through what seemed to be an infinite path to nowhere.
Finally, I reached a larger opening. I could observe other blue coated workers cutting through rocks in search for coal along the mine. Energy that week had been running ridiculously low, consequently resulting in our extra shifts, rarely set at sundays.
“Hey Jenkins,” I grumbled while advancing towards the materials facility, “I know I’m late… though, It was not my fault; my alarm failed to wake me up at the set time. Let’s just get going and hand me that pickaxe already.”
“C’mon Nick, its already been four issues this week; two absences, and the rest, either unreasonable or unexcused tardies.” He loudly exclaimed, disappointed.
“Yeah, whatever; it’s not as if it made any difference. Just… just go back to your useless chair and hand it over.” I daringly uttered, while pointing at the pickaxe, laying on the facility’s corner.
“How dare you…”
Ignoring him, I walked towards the wooden-handled pickaxe and viciously grabbed it, enraged by Jenkins’ complaints. Barely could I stand having to split rocks apart in search for coal, and yet, this foolish man would continue bothering me; recklessly casting orders, and complaining at every instant. Fed up, I busted through the already broken door, following the dust trail left behind by other Blue-Coats, striding back and forth from inside the deep mines, to the coal dispense near the entrance tube, and back.
The crumbling stone walls would gradually narrow down into a barely navigable chamber, branching into four different natural pitch black tubes. Unveiling the distant dimly lit mines, each of these tubes were filled with voices and sounds; dialogue could be heard, and between the grumbling and gasping of the workers, the cracking of the stones was what caused the deafening of anyone who’d gone through the tubes. Going through the far left one, I faded into the shadows, and receded from view.
2 - Surviving Somehow
Sixteen. Thats how old I was. One of the youngest people at the settlement, as I saw it. I had been merely five years old at the time of the accident, and ever since then I had been living here. I can’t say I hated it; I had a good job, my family was alive, the food was a little better than terrible. South SZ wasn’t paradise, I’ll tell you that, but it was the best I had.
These thoughts didn’t make friday classes any easier, however.
“... With The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald was attempting to…” My English teacher, Mrs. Sally Micha, droned on. Barely moving my head, I surveyed the room. Having sat in the back seat, it was easy to see that all of my classmates were no more interested in the lesson than I was. Joshua, who sat three seats to my left, was quite obviously asleep, and June was making origami under her desk.
Looking to my teacher, Sally was still saying something or other about the great literature of the long-dead genius that was F. Scott Fitzgerald, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to care in the least about the lesson. Had it been a few months back, maybe I could have mustered some measure of energy and interest, but recently I had completely lost any motivation I may have had in academics.
Of course, this wasn’t really helpful at the moment. I was still a few years off from graduation, and the classes weren’t getting any easier. Reluctantly, I sat up in my seat, leaving the slumped position in which I had sat for the last hour and a half. I was still uninterested in what the teacher was saying, but now I forced myself to take some, albeit weak, notes on the subject.
The fifty minute class seemed to last hours. When the teacher finally announced her intention to wrap up the lesson, I dropped the pencil into my bag, and hoisted the meager weight onto my shoulder and made my way to the door, still rubbing sleep from my eyes with my empty hand.
I didn’t get far before Joshua Blane, the kid who had fallen asleep, intercepted me at the door. He was younger than me, noticeably so, his fourteen years showing quite obviously on his face. What with his dark brown hair and small stature, it would be hard to distinguish this genius child from anyone in the younger classes. He had a plain face with simple features, and he made no attempt to hide it. His eyes, however, were the exception: Dark blue and piercing amongst his childlike traits, the eyes betrayed the vast intelligence that lie behind them.
“Alex?” He passed his hand in front of my face, as if to check if I was still awake, “You there?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head, leaving my thoughts behind, “Just, thinking, is all.”
“You sure didn’t do much thinking during class!” Blane snorted, “I saw you drift off to sleep!”
“You’re one to talk!” I pushed past him and into the hallway, assuming he would follow, “If you snored any louder, I wouldn’t be able to hear the lesson.”
“I can’t help it, she’s so boring.” He whined from behind me, walking quickly to keep up with my long strides, “I mean, we’ve been reading Gatsby for a month, and I finished it in the first class!”
“Well sorry, but not everyone can read like you, Blane.”
The kid rolled his eyes, catching up to me. The conversation came to an end as we made our way through the crowd that dominated the hallway. It was the end of the day, and so most students stood in the hallways catching up with their friends, blocking all of us who wanted to actually leave the premises. Luckily, I was one of the taller kids in the school, and pushing through the mass of people usually wasn’t a problem.
It was not long before we came to the school’s main gate and burst out into the main plaza of South SZ. The streets surrounding the tiny school were at full capacity, hundreds of people bustling to and from their jobs. In the crowd we could see mostly Blue-Coats and Green-Coats, though every once and a while a White-Coat could be seen on their bikes, calling out the names of the people to whom they needed to deliver a message.
Again, Blane and I scuttled our way through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone important and making our way towards the center of the plaza. Soon the crowd began to thin, and we found ourselves near the center of the plaza, where many resting people spent their days picnicking on the grass or lounging on the benches that were strewn about haphazardly.
I sat in one of the aforementioned benches and dropped my bag at its base, rustling through its contents as Blane joined me on the wooden seat. From the bag I pulled two sandwiches, one of which I flicked to my companion, who caught it and took a large bite.
“Ffanks!” He spoke through chewing, only barely understandable.
“Nothing.” I took a bite of my own, relishing in the simple ingredients, “Gotta be fast, though. We have work in an hour, and the office isn’t too close.”
“Wohk?” He swallowed and took another bite, decimating the sandwich, “Tha’s nough for a few houhs!”
“It’s a Friday, doofus.” I showed him my watch, “Early sign-in.”
He finished the sandwich, rolled up the bag it was carried in, and threw it in the trash, “Ugh. I wish they hadn’t added that new rule.” Blane complained, “Being a White-Coat sucks!”
“Be happy you don’t have early shift.” Laughing, I pointed at the crowd around us. “I pity the poor shmucks that have to deal with this crowd.”
“I guess.” Blane brushed off the crumbs in his lap and reclined backwards with a sigh, “Its just so BORING.”
“I don’t think so.” I finished my sandwich as well and smoothed out the bag, dropping it in my pocket, “But then again, I’m no prodigy.”
“You need to stop calling me that!”
“Calling you what?”
“A prodigy.”
“Why?”
The fourteen year-old gave me a devilish grin before continuing, “I’m not a prodigy, I’m a genius!”
I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. “One point for humility, I guess.” As I started into the crowd, I turned and called to him, “Make sure this genius won’t be late for work.”
With that, I swiveled around on one foot and plunged into the crowd, almost instantly being enveloped in the heat and noise that only hundreds of people in one small area can make. I followed the flow of the crowd, riding the push almost like a wave. Luck was on my side; the office was “downstream”. After all, pushing against the majority would have been mostly useless without my bike, and it would have taken me far more than an hour to reach the office.
The sheer amount of people was actually quite impressive. South SZ was small in comparison to the cities of old. It was a twenty kilometer by twenty kilometer square of cement, set squarely at the base of a mountain and separated from the forest by a high wall. The population was thought to be around ten thousand five hundred people, which really wasn’t much considering the size of the town. As I pushed through the crowd, I could almost believe that all ten thousand people had poured into the streets that day.
Finally, the white and black building of the post office was visible in the distance, over the heads of the crowd. While I wasn’t exactly a giant, one meter seventy four wasn’t exactly uncalled for at my age, I was still tall enough that I could easily see through and above the crowd. It wasn’t hard, then, to shove my way to the office and push open the door.
I clambered in, released from the crowd, and took a deep breath.
“Are you alright?” Our secretary, Innie, seemed more bored then concerned.
“Well, I’m not dead yet.” Her pale blue eyes and dark hair betrayed her disinterest. Rolling my eyes, I leaned on her desk. “It was just a joke, don’t laugh too much.”
“You’re not funny.” She pulled a slip from under her desk and slipped it to me, “Here, your orders for the day.”
“Wow, harsh.” I said, taking the slip and reading it. It read:
Mr. Alex Derio
To Report to the Post Office at 5:00PM
To Report to Rooms A, C, and H
To Deliver 1,000 pieces of Mail or Messages
To Return to the Post Office by 7:00PM
“This is a waste of paper, y’know.” I shrugged and stuffed it in my pocket, “It says the same thing every day.”
“Mr. Derio, I don’t make the rules.” She glanced at the clock on her desk and raised an eyebrow in my direction, derisively, “You have 5 minutes to report to Room A if you’d like to keep your job.”
