The world is a strange place. Nobody questions anything ever, but it is. Why would anyone question a system that seems to work so well? That’s until it crashes. When that happens, people finally begin to question. Do we really need a war or an economical crash to make people understand that the world’s system is bullshit? When we’re born, we start out thinking that the world is perfect; why would a baby have doubts about society? As we grow older, our view of the world changes, but there will be one in three people thinking that the system is perfect. Everyome lies to you all your life to make you believe one simple falsehood; “Don’t worry, that was all in the past.” I don’t know who started that saying, but they should be killed. I was born before the crash, but just when I turned 19, that’s when it all went to hell. I am now 24 years old. It’s been five years since the crash…It started in 2038.
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Here’s the problem with humans; they lie. “Oh, that was a mistake, we’ll never do it again…” and then they turn around and do the exact same thing that they said they wouldn’t do. After the first stock market crash, I bet they said that exact thing; “it’s in the past,”. I'm sure you’re thinking that the crash has been going on for five years, so why would I be complaining about it now? The answer is because it is the five-year anniversary of “the beginning”. Everything is different; the price of everything has gone up, money is incredibly sought after and no one can question any of this without getting shot. It’s like this everywhere, not just in Canada.
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I woke up this morning with a sharp pain in my side. The reason for this is that I sold my appendix for money. I don’t know who the hell wanted my appendix, but I’m not one to ask questions. I yawned and got up, heading toward my kitchen. I gagged as I took a sip of my 'coffee'. Hot water is too expensive. Only rich people can have it. I have to crush the beans into /cold/ water. I lent against the window. For once, everything was alright. That was until the lights went out. I groaned and went outside my apartment to see my landlord, Murray, fiddling with the power source. I was upset to say the least.
“Goddamn it, Murray, not again!” I yelled.
He turned around to face me.
“Sorry, Logan, some guy didn’t pay and you know I can’t afford a power source for every single apartment,” he said.
“Yeah, I know, but just kick him out, at that point!”
“And lose a buyer? No way.”
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I sighed and went back into my apartment. Landlords are utter dickheads. I glanced down at my watch; eight thirty. I should probably go if I want to get to work in time. I’m insanely lucky to still have a job. I’m also lucky to have a place to live. Soon enough, everyone’s going to be homeless. Luckily, I don’t have to worry about having a family to work for; there are no families, everything's arranged. They pick an exceptional man that is forced to breed with an exceptional woman. Those two don’t see each other ever again. You’re not allowed to be in a couple longingly; they don’t want the wrong people to breed and make an “incompetent baby”. Same-sex couples are not allowed either. They could get diseases that could render them useless and unable to breed. Any couples that are found are killed. I grabbed a sweater and hurried out the door, paying the doorman as I left - because you’re not allowed to leave if you do not do so. Once outside, I waved at a taxi that was passing. I got in and he began driving to the area that I asked him to drop me off at.
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Once I arrived at the factory building, I stood in front of the gates and awaited my division. A division is a group of people that work together. In a factory, there are two groups; the right side people - who work on the right side of the building - and the left side people - who work on the left side of the building. In those two groups, there are strips; a group of eight people who work in the same area. Then, there are divisions; four people who have the exact same job. You cannot enter the building unless your entire division is with you. All these divisions have numbers; ours is 1135. I saw one of the members of my division, Roland Adler.
“Hey, Roland,” I said.
“Hey, Logan, where’s everyone?” he asked.
“Not here yet”.
“My stupid sonofabitch landlord cut out my goddamn power again,” he said.
“Same.”
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Roland is my best friend. He’s a really nice guy who believes in society and that it can still be fixed… I go along with these delusions. I envy him in a way. He still believes that we could be something, we being humans. I think this is it. After this, nothing will be left. There won’t be another generation. We’ll all be dead. Quote me on that one. Suddenly, a blond boy arrived. I recognized him immediately as another member of the division; Corey McDermott. Roland lit up upon seeing him and pulled him into a hug.
“Corey!”
“Hey,” said the young person.
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They’re secretly dating. Only the people in 1135 know. So me, Corey, Roland and Paz Hansley. She’s the final member of our division. Corey and Roland aren’t allowed to be in a relationship, so we all have to keep it a secret. Roland placed his arm over Corey’s shoulders. No one would suspect anything, they’d probably think of it as a sign of friendly affection.
“How’s everything? Last night was cold… are you holding up nicely?” said Roland with worry.
“I’m fine…it’s not like you guys have heat anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing much by not being in an apartment,” said Corey.
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Corey lives on the street. He is one of those people who just didn’t have enough money to pay for an apartment. He insists that it’s the same as having an apartment, but we worry anyway. Especially Roland. It breaks that guy’s heart every day that they can’t live together. To ensure no improper breeding, no one is allowed to share a house or an apartment with anyone. Only the rich people can do what they want. Paz Hansley, the final member of the group, showed up, bags under her eyes.
“Hey, guys,” she said.
“Jesus H, what happened to you?” asked Roland.
“My neighbor was starting the march to Africa or something, because it was loud as hell, and I couldn’t sleep.”
“At least you still have electricity…” I said.
“Barely. My landlord didn’t cut the power, but he dimmed the lights so he wouldn’t have to pay as much.”162Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsMozNr1f9P
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We all walked into the factory and placed our presence cards into the slot. Once we got to our station, we immediately began working. While we work, we’re allowed to talk to each other, as long as we never ever stop working.
“So, I had a dream last night where Furnsby died. Everything went back to the way it was,” said Corey.
“The president’s not gonna die…he’s under that drug. The one that keeps you young. Unless he’s killed, he’ll be in office forever… Nice dream though,” said Roland.
“Furnsby is powerful, that’s why he’s still in office. People are too scared to vote against. That’s how it is; the world is full of little worms who want nothing more than to be led. They’d have no idea what to do if they weren’t,” said Paz.
“But we can all agree that if he left office to make room for a nice liberal person, everything would be good again…gradually, of course, but good again,” said Corey.
“It’s not the fault of the conservatives,” I started, “they’re not the reason for all of this… it’s really just Furnsby who’s fucking everything up.”
“Don’t say ‘it’s not the conservatives's fault’, if the liberal party was still in office, none of this would have happened. Liberals know what they’re doing,” said Roland.
“I’m not pro-conservative, but who could have predicted this? It’s not their fault-”
“But it could have been done differently,” said Roland, cutting me off.
“But what if it couldn’t be avoided? What if the crash was always supposed to happen?”
Roland scoffed. I knew he believed that I was ridiculous.
“Don’t go tellin’ me you believe in the universe?” he said.
“Well…I don’t not believe in the universe…”
“You think it’s the Milky Way’s Goddamn fault that all this shit’s goin’ on?”
“No-”
“Then shut up, okay, Logan?”
“Roland, I-”
“1135, quiet down!” exclaimed a distant male voice.
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We glared at each other and stopped talking. I threw a glance at 1134, who was right ahead of us. I recognized Yael Wenson immediately. Yael was the youngest worker. His dad was Gabe Wenson. Gabe Wenson was the boss of not only this company, but hundreds of others. He was one of the richest, most powerful men in all of Canada. His son had a guaranteed permanent spot in the company because of this. Was he a snitch, a traitor or a person to envy? No one knew. Yael noticed my staring and approached me, each step hesitant, like a baby deer walking in the woods.
“Mr. Skoller?” he asked.
“Oh, hey… Wenson, right?” I said as the rest of 1135 just stared at him, trying to look normal, but failing.
“Please, call me Yael.”
“Then call me Logan.”
“Ok, well, Logan, my dad wanted me to tell you to meet him in his office.”
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I nodded. I am going to Mr. Wenson’s office. This could mean two things; either I’m getting fired or promoted. I inhaled deeply as the anxiety overtook me. The rest of 1135 watched in pity as I gave a mini-wave. As I was leaving, Roland held my wrist. I turned around to face him. He avoided eye contact with both me and Yael.
“Logan, I’m sorry…Good luck.”
I nodded and smiled with an expression that clearly read; I forgive you. He didn’t want the last interaction between us to be a fight. I walked up the stairs and made it to the office of Mr. Wenson. Once I opened the door, I noticed governor Makena Farley. She was a colossally tall woman, at least six-foot one with shoulder-length blonde hair and sickly, pale, white skin. She never had a smile on. She only grimaced and scowled. Her frown somehow deepened even more upon seeing me.
“Mr. Skoller,” she said.
“Governor Farley, Mr. Wenson,” I said nodding.
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They looked at each other in profound concentration. Governor Farley nodded to Mr. Wenson and they both looked back at me. Like they were about to tell me that my dog died, or something. But then I got nervous. None of my friends are the ‘ideal man of today’. Roland steals food for the dog he’s not supposed to have, Corey’s in a relationship, Paz is always complaining about the government, liberals, conservatives - which you’re most definitely not allowed to do - and I just poked with my friends about the Goddamn universe. Spirituality, no matter what level it be, is incredibly taboo, nowadays. Not a soul talks about God, or Jesus, or anything like that. It’s not outlawed to speak of it, but it’s frowned upon. Nobody’s values or morals are accepted anymore. We must all remain the same. Mindless working machines, not allowed to have personalities.
“Mr. Skoller,” her voice startled me as she spoke, at last.
“Y…Yes, Governor?”
“We have reason to believe that two members of your group - 1135 - are in a relationship…a romantic one. ”
I swallowed hard before stuttering out a sentence, “I-uh…N-...Not that I know of, no…I mean, probably not. My frien-...I mean, my group, is very respectful of the rules set out for us.”
Mr. Wenson’s jaw tightened.
“Mr. Skoller… If you are lying to us, we will find out…and we will kill you. So you better be telling us the truth, huh, son?” he said as he patted my cheek, tauntingly.
“No, sir…I don’t know anything about a romantic relationship and I don’t think there is one, for that matter.”
“Good. You’re excused, Skoller,” said Mr. Wenson.
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I finally exhaled as if I had been holding my breath for that entire interaction. They’re getting closer and closer to finding out about everything we’ve done wrong. That’s a pretty long list. Like I said before, Roland owns a dog. The dog’s name is Weisz. Weisz is an adorable golden retriever with a smile the size of the sun. The two beings that Roland cares about the most are, Corey and Weisz. Everyone else can go to hell, for all he cares. As soon as the crash hit, the people who owned pets killed said pets. Either they couldn’t get the money to buy pet food and accouterments, or they were forced to. Some districts don’t allow pets, because they carry diseases. Roland loves that stupid dog, and couldn’t bring himself to do it. Pets are outlawed in our district, but that sure didn’t stop him. I returned back to my group, at my table. Everyone seemed to look at me with wide eyes and surprised expressions. I just continued working, not wanting to have to go back to Mr. Wenson’s office a second time that day. That place was dreadful, no matter how tough you claim to be.
“Skoller, you’re alive?!” whisper-yelled Roland.
“Yeah. He just wanted me to tell him if anyone was doing anything wrong in our group, so I told him that you all steal money from the rich. He should be coming for you guys soon,” I joked.
“Haha, Logan, hilarious,” said Paz sarcastically. “Seriously, what happened?”
“He wanted to know if there was a relationship in the group.”
There was a pause. A silence overtook the group. Corey blinked.
“What’d you say?” he asked with a hint of worry.
“I said no.”
“Oh.”
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Not another word was exchanged. We had to be careful of what we said next. Yael Wenson was always watching us for some reason… Closely. He never snitched before, as far as we knew, but taking chances wasn’t something that was often done nowadays. It looked like we all had the same idea, because I caught everyone else also throwing long glances at Yael. We were acting a certain way that could get us supervised. Getting supervised is when you aren’t trusted by your boss, he can send two suit-wearing men to watch over your every move, every day, every hour and every second. It’s very uncomfortable. Especially considering they carry guns, and are allowed to shoot you whenever they want. At work, if they dislike your performance or you break the rules, you can get yourself killed. That’s why everyone is so stressed. Those same two men come and take you, beat you and then shoot you. They have to make sure that it’s the most painful process that anyone could ever endure. Roland made eye contact with me and glanced back at his work. He shifted his eyes from side to side, said eyes glued onto the counter.
“Roland…” I started.
“I’m annoyed,” he said. “This work is getting pretty tough, you know?” he looked up and stared deeply into my eyes.
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That was code for ‘someone’s here.’
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I turned my head inconspicuously. The two suit-wearing men were walking around the area, sunglasses blocking their eyes and gray-coloured gloves hiding their hands. They walked around notably slow. They then started walking quicker. They now had a destination. They walked by our division, and we immediately avoided eye contact. But they weren't here for 1135, they were there for someone else. He approached 1203. One of the men put his hand on a short boy’s shoulder. The boy panicked and started shaking, saying something inaudible through nervous tears. We just looked down at our table. It’s best not to look. The tears got louder and louder until it turned to screaming. And then, the release. Nothing. He was dead. Nobody dared look up from the ground. I couldn't see, but I knew that the two men left, leaving us unsupervised, once again. I looked around my division. Paz continued to work, emotionless, Roland was now working slowly, clearly fazed, and Corey’s eyes were full of tears. I just couldn’t move.
“What if they do that to us?” whispered Corey, alluding to him and Roland.
“They won’t…” I said, “why would they?” I tried to give the minimal amount of information, so it would still sound okay out of context.
“I won’t let that happen to any of you guys,” said Paz, “I swear.”
“Your swears mean nothing,” said Corey, “promise me.”
“I promise,” said Paz, “I promise.”
“I promise,” said Roland.
“I promise,” said Corey.
They all looked over at me.
“I promise,” I said.
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