Young Writers Society

My grandparents say that I was born in an unfortunate time. They always tell me about the old world, where we were allowed to go outside and breathe cool, fresh air, without the inconvenience of having to wear a cooling suit just to prevent ourselves from roasting in the heat. I don't believe them. For me, these are all just stories. Stories of a world long gone.

"8 billion people used to live on Earth, you believe that?" my grandparents always ask, laughing slightly as if they don't believe it themselves. I definitely don't believe that. There's only 700 million people left on this doomed planet.

Some of my friends-wait, I only have one, tells me about how the richer people get transported to Mars while us poorer, starving ones, stay on Earth and wait for our chance to die.

Usually, when my grandparents launch into a full-on rant about the world before, I roll my eyes and slip on sunglasses just to hide the fact that I'll be sleeping for the next hour or so. These stories are meaningless to me. There's no point in clinging on to the past, when I have a family to take care of.

We used to live in Singapore. Sea levels were rising so much that the few transports that remained on Earth brought us to the interior regions of North America, at least the ones that haven't gone underwater yet. That's where I met my good friend, and eventually, scavenging partner, Mayday. He's about a head taller than me, and I'm already considered tall for a girl my age. He's got short black hair. Just like mine. And just like the other 300 million or so kids. Mayday told me that his parents named him that because they're trying to call out to the authorities for help, to bring them to Mars. It hasn't worked for the past 13 years of his life, and I don't think it'll work anytime soon.

Me and Mayday's families are quite close as well. We usually share whatever little food Mayday and I scavenged that day with each other, to ensure that we don't starve to death.

On one of our scavenging trips, I find a knife and a blaster pistol. The knife's a bit blunt, but it's sharp enough to stab through dead fish or whatever I find in the ruins of the houses that are flooded to my waist.

Everyone knows the stories of what happens to houses that get flooded. They get abandoned, and whatever wildlife that has managed to adapt to the temperatures tears them up, sometimes leaving nothing behind.

After spending about a few months in North America, even with the cooling suits on, the air temperature has become too high. Mayday and I can only spend an hour, maximum, outside scavenging before we start to get burns and it gets hard to breathe.

The air conditioning in the "houses" that the authorities give us barely works. I can't even call those things that we live in houses. They're more of a group of tents sewed together and protected by a ray shield, which is the reason why we call the place we live in the Dome. It provides air conditioning, at least, for a few hours a day. The rest of the time, we rely on that limited cooling cream that Mayday and I scavenge to prevent ourselves from roasting to death.

We've been living like this for a few months now. None of us are getting used to it. We have one small screen in the only small area where tents aren't clumped together to watch the news. Usually, the one that stands in front of the small screen shouts the news out to everyone else crowding around.

Today, I squeeze my way through the crowd, it's easy because of my small size, and I make my way towards the screen, getting a good view. There, I see face of the man that always appears on the news when something important is going on, but I never remember his name because I have more important things to focus on.

The image of a globe projects onto the screen, and the man on the television turns the hologram of the globe until it shows a brown landmass.

"Antarctica," the man says. "We will be moving all inhabitants on Earth here. The temperatures here are lower than the ones around the world, so..."

I slip away from the screen and back into the crowd. I hear the people near the screen shouting what the man on the screen just said, and people are muttering excitedly, some cheering. I hate it when this happens. So much noise. I run away, pushing past people, back to my house where I tell them the news.

"The authorities say they're moving us to Antarctica," I say the moment I run into the tent, my breathing slightly heavy from the running. Mayday's in the tent as well, rubbing the ankle that he sprained on yesterday's scavenging trip. My family and Mayday all look up at me, before my family starts to cheer and Mayday remains silent.

I sit down next to him. "How's your ankle?"

"Could be better," he replies, and I definitely know something's wrong. He'd usually crack a joke or something.

"Nervous about going to Antarctica?"

Mayday nods, and I pat him on the shoulder. "That means new territory to scavenge stuff, which means there's definitely some fresh loot there."

Mayday looks up at me. "Antarctica's a barren desert. There's nothing there to scavenge."

"We'll find something," I try to sound confident, but after the stories I've heard of Antarctica, there's only a sliver of hope that Mayday and I could scavenge anything there. Antarctica's also full of wild animals. The ones that managed to get to Antarctica, at least. They're the real danger out there.

The next few days, transports descend from the sky and bring people to Antarctica in a matter of minutes. I'm guessing the transports are from Mars. The advanced technology there lets them travel fast. Really fast.

My family and Mayday's board the last transports after packing everything up. There's not much to pack, besides some of the old ration bars I found a few days ago and those gummies that hydrate us. Authorities give us about three of those per person every month, so we have to ration them. Can't forget about the cooling cream either.

When we enter the transport, we're greeted with a blast of cold air. Is this what Antarctica feels like? I'm shivering slightly from the cold, and it looks like everyone else is too. We're not used to this kind of temperature.

It's really cramped in here. I count about a hundred families with us. I hear murmurings going on in the crowd, and I'm pushed right next to Mayday.

We stand there in awkward silence, and I start sweating, somehow. It's not because of the temperature. Large crowds just make me nervous, and Mayday knows that. He puts a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and I give him a small nod.

Thankfully, we aren't in the transport for long. In a matter of minutes, the doors open and everyone rushes out. My family and Mayday's are the last to walk out, with a lot of hesitation.

The air is fresh. Cooling. Devoid of that burning smell of the ground. I scan the surroundings, and so does Mayday. Rugged terrain, with gorges that go so deep that if anyone fell in from above they would definitely die. The sky is navy blue. Clear. Cloudless. Not like the smoke-filled skies of North America.

We stand on a platform that descends into a deep gorge, where I see buildings. Not tents clustered together, actual buildings. They're inside a ray shield, just like the Dome, and I can only guess that it's not to protect us from the heat, but from the wildlife.

After we enter through a hole in the ray shield, it closes up behind us and we are, once again, in a crowd of people. There's a big screen, which everyone is looking at, and it's projecting the image of another man, who's dressed in what my grandparents would call a suit, even though I could not possibly imagine why someone would want to wear such a suffocating piece of clothing.

"You are safe here now, in Antarctica," the man says, and I start hearing people talking again. The man waits until everyone is silent before continuing. "No one goes in or out of the ray shield unless given specific permission to do so."

Mayday and I glance at each other with a knowing look.

"Enjoy your stay here, and good luck."

Good luck? What does he mean by good luck?

As the crowd disperses and authorities lead others to their respective buildings, I turn to Mayday, and he turns to me.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."