Oh yes, I said potatoes and insects. Insects. It’s some breakthrough discovery that happened in the 2030s, when world leaders were trying to stop world hunger. There are 200 million insects to one human, so why not use the crunchy little buggers to feed the human race? Plus, they’ve got more than enough nutrients that humans need. It’s not that bad, really. With the potatoes, there are thousands of species, and they grow quite well in many different soil and temperature varieties. Also, they don’t spoil quickly.
I get out the insect and potato mash, one of seven different combinations of the foods that we can make safely. I never request the stick bugs or the cockroach ones, though: the stick bugs contain too much leg in them, and there’s no telling what’s in a cockroach, since they eat everything.
“Rahi! Dinner!” I call to my 15-year-old cousin.
“I’m coming!” After a few moments, he walks into the kitchen. Rahi is one of my two best friends in the world; we tell each other everything, although I think it’s mostly for the sake of family and survival. I don’t know where Erin is. She disappeared when I was 14 and she was 15, and I haven’t heard anything of her since. She’s my other best friend, and I miss her terribly.
We eat in silence. There’s not much to say, really. The radio hasn’t come on in a while, which means that there’s no immediate danger. We would be talking if there was. We’ve spoken of leaving sometime, but it’s never been a plausible thought in our heads. Yes, it would be nice to leave here; but at the same time, it’s the only place that feeds us and keeps us relatively warm.
Maybe you’re wondering how I know about so many things about the world, seeing as the government (Pah, it’s a joke to call it that) censors everything that poses a risk to crumbling its carefully controlled, destructive authority.
There is a radio in every dilapidated shelter that keeps the entire measly population current on the dangers of war or extreme starvation. They are government-controlled, with only one channel and turns on only when there is something important to announce. I’m thinking that you can figure out what’s on that single channel. Anything that makes the government look good, really. Although, it’s pretty much impossible to make anyone even appreciate any form of government ever again.
After dinner, we wash the dishes and clean our small shelter together. I get the kitchen, Rahi has the other room. It’s a system that works out for both of us.
My eyes keep jerking back to the window, wishing that something of meaning will appear there. I know for a fact that the old man isn’t going to turn up again, but still that wish crops up in my mind. I guess it’s a subconscious and involuntary hope; that maybe his existence was put in my Fate’s path to prove that we’re not completely doomed to eternal devastation.
Laughing fills my head, spreading an involuntary grin on my face. The air smells of dew and sweet earth. Colors burst across my vision; greens and browns especially. A woman’s smiling, lined face comes into view, eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.
“Sarac, come, little one; we’re going to get behind the others!” The woman grabs my small, pudgy hand and walks quickly along after a group of people. My legs pump along the fastest they can, which isn’t very fast, and causes the woman to pick me up and double our pace. Presently we fall in line with the others.
“Momma?” The word slips from my lips before I can grasp them.
“Yes, honey?” The woman shifts me on her hip to see me better.
“We are we going?”
“Somewhere safe. Daddy explained it to you.”
“Okay, Momma. I love you.”
“I love you too, my sweet Sarac.”
“...Sarac? Sarac!” Rahi yanks me out of my daydream.
“Huh? Oh. What?” We’re done with the dishes, I can see, and now my hands are dunked in the water, soaking, becoming wrinkly little prunes.
“I’ve been talking to you for at least a couple minutes, and you haven’t been listening to any of it.”
“Sorry.” I pull my hands out and dry them.
“Did you have another vision?” His eyebrows are knitted together in fearful worry.
“Yes…. It was different this time. I was with Momma again, as always; but this time, we were in a bright place. There was a
group of people in front of us, and we had to run to catch up.”
“Anything else?”
“She told me we were going somewhere safe.”
“No specifics, I’m guessing.” he says as plainly as he were stating that we ran out of food.
“No.” He knows by now to just let it go. They never yield anything new.
I’ve had these visions ever since we lost our family. Neither of us can recall very well how they were taken from us, or even if it was the other way around, but the image of loud booms and people everywhere always come to mind when we discuss the matter. Talking about it never does us any good, though; as with the visions, it never reveals new information.
“I saw him too, by the way.” There’s no questioning what he’s talking about.
“How did you know what I was thinking about?” A stupid question, really; it's the only interesting thing that's happened for a while.
“Well, he’s the only person that’s been outside for months, and you always sit near the window, so there’s no way you couldn’t have seen him. Plus, your eyes are going 90 miles per hour back and forth between the dishes and the window.” Rahi stops and waits for my response. By this time, we’ve made our way from the sink in the kitchen, to the other room on the couch. It’s a ratty old thing, but it’s also a luxury, having that couch, and it’s something Rahi and I would have to be hard-pressed to dispose of. It’s just me and him, and so we alternate nights sleeping on it.
I lean back into the red-brown upholstery, “Aren’t you wondering what that was all about? It’s a wonder he lasted that long. You’d think he’d be blasted within a minute, but there weren’t any explosions at all.”
“That’s why I even brought it up. It’s strange. No one could survive that. No one.” Rahi cocks his head.
“I suppose that maybe the government wanted a clean disappearance. It wouldn’t be the first time, either.” My face darkens.
Rahi nods his head soberly, “Wherever our family is, whether it’s up in heaven, partying with the gods, or being held…well, all we can do is know that we still love them, and they still love us. And I really wish that I could tell them that, in person.”
Realization hits me, and I clap my hand across his mouth.
“Oh my gods, I forgot about the cameras!” Our eyes widen at the same exact time. Rahi smacks his hand across his face and groans.
“They were installed only last month. Dang! We completely forgot!” Our voices have automatically lowered down to a barely audible whisper.
“How can we have forgotten something like that? It’s life or death, you’d think that our human survival instincts would help us out with that.” I growl.
Government officials had come into every shelter in the city, during the night last month, installed cameras quickly, and left a paper memo about the 24-hour watch lens. It was another blow to our already limited independence.
“Sometimes human instincts fail us. That’s why the world is how it is; no human instinct caught its mistakes before it careened completely out of control.” Rahi says this as a finale to our grand blunder. It makes me feel a little better, but not by much.
We’ve resolved not to speak again that night. Who knows what else might accidentally slip out? We don’t know, and don’t really want to find out.
Going to bed tonight, my last thought is this: What’s going to happen to us?
***
We’re on our toes constantly over the next few days. We’re antsy, and understandably so. Staying away from windows has become a full-time job. The only sources of government-approved entertainment are the books Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler, The Road to Power by Joseph Stalin, The Doctrine of Fascism by Benito Mussolini, and “Little Red Book” by Mao Zhe-dong. Their sole purposes are to brainwash and educate people about how certain people are better than others, and how the government is almighty and righteous. Adolf Hitler did complete his goal of totally obliterating the Jewish race. He was angry about World War II’s outcome, so he killed off every living Jew. It lowered the population by a hundred million.
I’m not going to allow myself to be led into completely hare-brained ideas, so I draw. I think I’m an okay artist, but it’s something I thoroughly enjoy. I have to do these drawings in the dirt floor with my hands. It’s saved me from completely boredom and insanity before.
I don’t exactly know what Rahi is doing. He keeps tinkering with pieces of metal, scratching designs in the cheap wooden floor, or softly knocking on the bookcase. I don’t ask him, because of our unspoken agreement (pun unintended) of not talking. Save for the scratching, knocking, clinking, or chewing noises, it’s silent for a week or so.
It’s then that all hell breaks loose.
and I'm totally going to read the next chapter 