Young Writers Society

Hot metal clanged against hot metal and the smell of ash filtered through Axel’s black surgical mask. In the distance, drunkards were laughing and outcasts were shouting crude comments at their buddies. Musty air fluttered around Axel’s vision. His body was sore and still. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to wake up from his dream of the past. He held onto his memories from a year ago. Slowly, his torso lifted off the black stained ground. Pieces of his hair reached in every other direction like a dead fly’s legs.

Axel attempted to rub the sleep out of his heavy eyes with the bottom of his bandaged palms. He winced as the laceration under the dirty bandages stung. He examined his bruised hands; the dangers of factory working were no joke. Axel shook his head. He slung his weightless scarf over his shoulder and around his neck. He grabbed the soft fabric and tugged it over his nose. A sweep of feverish air revealed a freshly made hole in the cotton. He decided it wasn’t that big of a deal; at least he still had the scarf after the Fascist Parade’s pillage.

He grabbed his shaded glasses sitting in a corner between two tiled walls and slipped them over his ears. They were old and didn’t have any zoom capabilities, but they worked for his purposes. Axel exhaled and took a step forward. The Hearth wasn’t his favorite place. in fact it might be the worst place someone could live, but he didn’t have a choice. Higher society pushed the impoverished citizens into the dark hell-hole, so he had to make due.

Axel wound through the maze-like halls until he was standing in the stomach of the Hearth. The underground city breathed with death as he wandered through. A couple of teenagers held mechanical straws up to their mouths and laughed giddily. A man with graying hair was slumped against an old broken down cable car next to them, coughing his lungs out. Fire crackled from barrels. Dirt and grime covered the walls.

Smack.

Axel turned his head and shifted his vision. Behind him two people had fixated themselves in a tussle. A shirtless man crouched on the cracked ground. He held his hand up to his flaming red cheek and his nose twisted in a grimace. A woman pounced on him like a wild Leopard-Bear, and her long fingernails etched away at his face. Axel turned his head back around and focused on the precious light filtering through the top of the exit.

“Hey, got some eurons, friend?” A stranger strode over to him, but Axel continued walking. He shook his head and waved the stranger away, but she persisted. Her blonde hair curled in a way Axel didn’t quite understand was even possible. Dark makeup smothered her skin.

“I’ve got just what you need!” She grabbed Axel’s scarf.

He tugged back with his whole body and managed to pry her fingers from their white-knuckle hold. He threw his hand below her neck and shoved her away. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Like a wounded fox, he dashed up the stairs. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he knew he was free. He adjusted his scarf so that it was no longer a crumpled mess sitting on his chest.

He settled in the sweet embrace of relief until he realized he had to go to work. No work means no eurons, and no eurons means he will be stuck in the Hearth forever. Axel’s teeth pushed harder and harder together in thought as he began his journey through the buzzing city.

Dawn had come and the orange sun gently lied on top of the horizon, casting a glorious glow on the dark metal exterior of the many skyscrapers and globe-homes surrounding him. This was the sight that Axel looked forward to every morning. If only the leaves on the trees and the grass weren’t so dull. He never understood why they were so grey when the sun was so… so… holy.

In other news, it was a normal run of the mill kind of day. Traversing over and under bridges, passing by translucent roads and keeping an eye on the sun as it climbed higher and higher in the sky. It would soon leave the massive city for the gloomy clouds. Important people charged through the streets and Axel tried to stay out of their way. They marched with purpose and pride. They maintained their hair in an impossible way. Their faces glowed with precision as faded rubies and emeralds dazzled anyone who walked by. And who could forget their extravagant clothes which dressed their arms and torsos in sleek materials that gave poise and finesse to the wearers. Axel could only dream of a life with such lavish material items. The idea sent a yearning to his brain like a warm waffle decorated with syrup and whipped cream would send water to his mouth.

Axel took his eyes off the crowd for a moment to notice the factory hidden behind thick clouds of mist. He was almost there…

The moment he stepped inside, the smell of burning plastic and black smoke pummeled him. Through his tinted glasses he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim overhead lights. Above him hundreds of floors lined the four walls connected by narrow staircases. Leverick’s blood red banner hung from the high ceiling and reached for the third floor. Its grave fabric did not waver, despite the many workers rushing around from every side. A sharp purple triangle plotted it’s center, marking the reign of Leverick. Axel sneered and planted himself at his station on the fifth floor.

He pulled and pushed half-rusted metallic levers and spun silver discs inside the complex contraptions. Whirs and buzzes sounded from all around him as sweat dripped off the edge of his sharp nose. As he finished working his first shift, he turned his head and spotted a robot's shiny arm shooting an electric blue liquid into aluminum cans. Soon, he thought, that robot would be taking over his job. This, he feared most.

“Hey, Tree-Man,” a familiar voice called, “Why aren’t you working?”

It was the fifth-floor supervisor, Aarow. He was always pestering the workers on this floor.

“Actually, I just finished,” Axel’s nerves tingled with annoyance.

“Great,” Aarow started half-heartedly, “Now work.”

Axel rolled his eyes and his lanky form bumped past Aarow. He didn’t want to deal with this today.

“Hey!” Aarow barked.

“Sorry, I’m too busy working,” Axel raised his hand to silence Aarow.

“I could get you fired, Tree-Man!” Of course, he was referring to Axel’s height with the stupid nickname.

Axel didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. He was smarter than that.

***

Finally, the end of his work day. Even better, he didn’t hurt himself too bad this time. Only a small scratch above his eyebrow from a dime-sized ornery gear jumping at his face. He flew down the steps from the sixteenth floor down to the fifth floor and had to stop to catch his breath.

“Paycheck will be in a week, Tree-Man. Be there or you won’t get paid,” Aarow sludged past him.

The only thing that guy ever does, Axel thought, is talk.

Axel dawdled down the rest of the four stairways. When he reached the ground floor his legs were on fire, but his left leg more so. He shifted his weight onto his right leg, even though it could give out any second. He left the building through the metal and glass sliding doors. He passed the security detectors and green lights flashed overhead. His lungs embraced the clean air and his feet in his shoes enjoyed feeling gravel. It was a texture other than the smooth metal that was everywhere in the city. The factory was outside the city and inside the village zones.

As he passed the small globe-homes, he reminisced in the memories of his childhood with Margaret. She raised him around the sweet smell of breads and cookies. She always found something good in everyone, and Axel admired her for that. A small smile wiped his face as he saw little kids playing virtual reality together. They were laughing and waving their arms around as if they were painting on giant canvases. The thin glasses sat neatly on their noses. Their black and white gloves sent the illusion of sweat to Axel’s hands.

The simple times. If only those weren’t stolen from him at such a young age...