The work wasn’t ever the problem. Sirius loved it, in a way, and he knew of course how lucky he was. Having a Craftsman for a father was a serious advantage to not end up being assigned sewage or salvage or farming like his poor mother. He’d worked hard to come here, turned up on his first day at the age of fifteen with his eyes shining as bright as the metal that the workers buffed. It wasn’t long before the happening that had turned him from an eager model worker into… this.
He knew he was on thin ice. Any expression of discontent with one’s station was sure to be noted by one’s superiors, and with enough notes against his name Sirius could well find himself disciplined. Maybe even taken off the chop shop, and instead land himself shoveling dirt from the streets or sorting through radioactive waste for any hint of value in the muck. No, he loved the machines, even if he would never get to make one roar beneath his hands. The dreams that he had of riding across the desert, spraying the sight of Pandemic with waves of sand as he sped far, far away, would have to be enough.
The day went slowly, and by the end of it, Sirius’ joints were screaming in protest. The aches had started a couple of years ago and only gotten more brutal with every day that he rose to drag himself to his labor. Those that had been chosen to take the labor of the Doctors, that strangely revered class that held a high place in Ulead society whether air or sky born, had declared his body Undesirable at a young age due to his weak heart. He would never be part of the great Harvest; his body would never be used to revive and reconstruct those that lived in the lofty skyscrapers. Not that Sirius gave a damn, but it did mean that once the Doctors knew that he was only worth as much as his lifelong labor they stopped spending resources on keeping him healthy. He knew, his mother and father knew, that there was something very wrong that would catch up to him eventually, but as far as Ulead was concerned, he, like all the Earthborn, were there to work themselves to death for the good of the great community.
On the way home he could see that preparations had already been made for the festivities; ragged decorations that he recognized from last year and many years before were hung out of windows and across streets, colorful fabric drifting in the slight breeze. Although it was well past the hottest time of day, the sun still beat down hard on his dark head as he dragged his feet towards home, flashing at him as he traveled under the shadow of a thousand ramshackle walkways and constructions that seemed as though they had been simply stuck between the tall buildings. You could hear them creaking in the slight breeze if you listened closely enough. Ulead was a city placed within the ruins of another, the tall walls, mostly made of rubble and debris, keeping the growing population locked in an ever more confined space. The foundries and factories off to the west eternally spewed out smoke, manufacturing more and more steel supports and sheets of iron. One such sheets detached itself from a weather-beaten hut that someone had built right in the middle of one of these walkways, floating down with apparent grace until it landed just in front of him with a deadly clang. Just one step further and it would have sliced him in two.
“Sorry!” came the call from far above. Sirius put his arms out in a show of incredulous annoyance before carrying on his long walk home down the cobbled streets and pathways. Once he was greeted by the towering shadow of his own building, then came the arduous climb up the stairs to his home. By the time he reached the peeling door and pushed his way inside, he was breathing heavily, head pounding, legs shaking slightly as though threatening to give out at any moment.
As the tired worker dragged himself through the door he wasn’t greeted with cold water and light food as he’d hoped, but instead the needle-jawed, blank-eyed stare of a bug-eyed monstrosity.
“Look!” squealed Kora. The land fish, at first glance thought very much dead by Sirius, squirmed in her thick-gloved grasp, opening and shutting its jaws with a snap-snap sound.
“Yes, Kora, I can see,” Sirius half-snapped, trying to edge around the creature and his grinning sister. “Why have you brought that home? Is the flesh even safe to eat?”
“We’re not going to eat him!” Kora responded with a look of mocking horror at her brother. “His name is Flappy. I love him. He’s gonna stay in the tub.”
“He most certainly is not. Or at least, only until we can filter the bad water out of him,” Sirius’ mother called from the kitchen. “Kora, stop teasing your brother. Remember, he’s been working longer than you.” Sirius made a beeline for his room, but before he could escape behind a closed door, his mother caught him by the arm.
“Two hours, and then we’re off down to the festival, alright?”
“I’m not going,” Sirius responded, trying to sound as casual as he could. His mother, her tired eyes boring into his, gave him a good, long look.
“Listen, my little bird…” she murmured so that the children in the living room couldn’t hear her, reaching up to touch her palm to her son’s face. “I know it’s been hard since your brother. But you must understand, hundreds of families go through that. It’s just the way things need to be.”
“Why?!” Sirius barked. The hubbub in the other room quietened for a moment at the sound. Sirius’ mother froze, before tightening her grip on his arm in a sudden uncharacteristic steeliness for one so small. She bundled Sirius into his room with a firm look on her face. “Ma, what are you-”
“Okay, you listen to me.” Her eyes were suddenly wide and serious. Her son’s mouth shut as quickly as the land fish's had. “Listen. I know losing Xan hurt you. It hurt me too. He was my first, my first baby boy. But if you go talking like that, you’ll lose me another.”
“I don’t care what they do to me,” Sirius muttered, eyes downcast and tanned face burning with shame. He knew he meant it, which just made saying it feel that much worse. She knew he meant it, too. His mother’s expression twisted in pain for a moment before returning to a mask of determination.
“Do you care what they do to Kora? To the boys? Denna? Your father and I?” She sighed. “You know the price of dissent in this world. Please, Sirius, I’m begging you. Just keep your head down, do your work, try and be a part of all this no matter how hard it is. One day you’ll find somebody, you’ll have babies of your own, and you’ll understand. Now.” She nudged the corners of his mouth with her thumbs, trying to coax a smile. “You always were such a serious boy. Wash yourself and get ready, okay? Maybe that someone will be at the dancing tonight, and before you know it you’ll be as old and tired as I am.”
I already feel it, Mama, Sirius thought, but said nothing, obediently forcing a smile for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and retreating to the bathroom. The daily water allowance was already running low, the battered gauge ticking towards the red. Sirius glared at it, making do with a damp cloth run over his face, neck and limbs. When he slipped back into his bedroom, the sounds of excited squealing filling the small apartment, his mother had left him out a new set of clothes. Almost identical to the ones he was wearing, these however were devoid of any fraying or stains, and when he slipped the loose tunic over his head the sleeves reached his wrists rather than stopping halfway down his forearms. He balked at how much this must have cost his mother; while just enough food to survive was made available to all working citizens, so was a small wage, for luxuries such as this. But did it have to be him that she spent it on?
The family spent some time in a state of disarray before organizing enough to leave for the festival. The boys wore masks that they’d constructed in their classes, half-formed things with grinning faces, while Kora boasted a dusty, moth-eaten flower crown made of cloth that had appeared every festival since she’d been gifted it. Their path took them on a winding journey through Ulead to the center, the crowds getting more and more densely packed. It was half an hour before they finally broke through the mass.
The center of Ulead was marked by an enormous fountain, though nobody alive today would understand its previous purpose. The concrete was eaten away with age and water, being either a precious resource or
a toxic danger, hadn’t flowed from the structure in years. Instead, a flame that rocketed up as far as Sirius was tall announced the beginning of the festival, to cheers and jubilation all over the crowd. Music played and performers, mostly Airborn dancers and fire-eaters, delighted children and adults alike with their skills. The smell of hot food, a fraction better quality than what the citizens of Ulead ate most of the time, filled the air. All around Sirius there were smiling, happy faces, but he couldn’t find it in himself to join them in their jubilation. He stayed in sight of his family but far enough away that he could have been nothing more than a stranger. The lights and sounds around him blurred as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, and he found himself sloping off towards the side, sitting down on a crumbling bench and simply watching. As the stars began to pepper the sky above in a brilliant tapestry of silver, black and purple, a figure similarly colored in their garb took to the stage behind the fountain. A klaxon sounded and silence fell as quickly as it would take a ball to drop to the floor.
“Citizens.” A voice boomed as though from the heavens. The figure, resplendent and tall in their long, flowing robes, stepped forward to address the crowd. Behind them stood eleven others, each wearing a different shade but as equally fine in their ceremonial dress. They stood with perfect poise and dignity, allowing but the smallest of identical smiles to grace each of their faces. Sirius looked back at them with hatred burning in his green eyes. “We labor each day to make this community, the last bastion of humanity and order against the wild world, a great and prosperous nation. As we Skyborn rulers may watch over you in our towers, we have seen even since the last festival that the flower of Ulead has bloomed further.”
Exactly what you said last time. Except water allowances have been halved and the working day is twice as long, Sirius thought with a savage edge of bitterness. “Now the time has come for the greatest sacrifice our humble workers make for us. One hundred of your young people will join us, to be imbued in our beings and their souls to ascend to where few other Earthborn do; to the open sky!”
Cheers rose from the crowd. Some people were so frenzied with elation that they were literally jumping up and down. Sirius felt nausea churning in his gut. “And now to name the blessed one hundred that will be taken into our arms and up, up to the ecstatic light! May the spirits of earth, air and sky be with us!”
“Spirits be with us! Spirits be with us! Spirits be with us!”
The crowd exploded. Sirius could do nothing but place his hands over his ears, ducking his head between his knees. He closed his eyes. The names and family numbers became a blur of sound. His palms started to sweat.
It had happened, right here, four years ago. Xan’s name had been called out, and his brother, his kind, beautiful, strong brother had hugged him tight before walking to his death. A lump caught in Sirius’ throat at the memory. It hurt just to recall it, recall the way his mother had to hold him back as he watched his brother disappear forever, never to be seen by Sirius or his parents or his siblings again. He thought about parts of Xan, his face, his limbs, his strong, gentle heart, being plastered onto one of the Skyborn, just so they could live a little longer to rule over them all. The thought made him feel so sick he almost missed the next terrible thing to happen to him.
But he didn’t. There was no denying it. There was no running from it. The words were spoken with echoing clarity.
“Kora, of family unit 2657.”
Sirius snapped his head up to see his family freeze, each of them stock still. His mother and father looked to each other, eyes wide with horror and shock. The boys began to cry. Kora, however, her large green eyes alight with wonder and amazement, spun round to throw her arms around her mother and father, their grief and sadness as they clung to their little girl completely lost on her. She turned towards the stage as the crowd parted to let her through.
Sirius leaped to his feet and charged forward, slamming into several people and sending them flying with his broad shoulders. He reached out before Kora could realize he was coming for her, wrapping one hand around a thin arm and dragging her back to a loud scream of protest before she realized who it was. The crowd went silent once more.
“Siri, what are you doing?!” Kora yelped, trying to tug away, but her brother wrapped his arms around her and held her fast. The High Counselor leaned forward over the stand.
“Let your brother say goodbye, little one. Perhaps he will be lucky to Ascend in the next four years, and you’ll see each other again.” His voice was a disgusting, syrupy mockery of kindness, and it had Sirius’ teeth on edge.
“You can’t have her!” Sirius screamed, his voice breaking on the last word. His hands shook as violently as his words as Kora squirmed in his grasp, hitting out at him with her bony little fists. “You can’t have her. You took my brother, you won’t have her too!”
There was a long, dead silence.
“Your family should feel blessed to have two children ascend!” the High Counselor boomed over the panicked mutterings of the crowd, finally composing himself enough in the face of this impudence to speak. He motioned to Sirius’ parents. “Do you not feel blessed? Are you not happy for your children to leave the harshness of this world and join the spirits of the sky?”
“If anyone tries to take her-” Sirius reached for his belt, where a few tools of his trade always hung, and grabbed up a wrench. A gasp rippled through the crowd. “I’ll kill them!”
He heard his mother wail in horror, an outpouring of grief that he had never known her to express, not now, not even when Xan had been taken. It was the sound a mother makes when she knows that she has lost a child. And now she’s lost three.
The helplessness fell on Sirius’ head just moments before the cudgel wielded by the first Airborn city guard that could reach him collided with his skull and sent his consciousness spinning into nothingness.
Chapter Two
The cells were dark and stank of waste and misery. Sirius knew that something horrible had happened, because when his mind started to float into consciousness he could not yet feel the aching in his limbs. His head had been knocked to such a degree that he was still, even now while dawn was beginning to stain the sky, seeing the room spin on its corner when he opened his eyes.
He sat up with a groan, trying to recollect for a moment the events that lead him here. When the previous night did come back to him, however, he instantly charged at the rusting bars and connected with them with a clang.
“Let me out!” he hollered, shaking the bars, all but knocking his head against them in rage. “Let me out, you dogs!”
“Now there’s no use going on like that. Everyone’s asleep or still at the festival, silly boy.” A voice like the noise of sand running over stone sounded from the corner of the room. Opposite Sirius’ own pile of stinking rags that served as a bed was another, the source of the voice shrouded in darkness until a head poked forward to be illuminated by the light of the moon. The oldest man Sirius had ever seen, face wizened and puckered, grinned toothlessly. His scalp was nothing more than a smooth, browned egg, a few wispy bits of hair still clinging to the skin.
“Don’t talk to me, old man,” Sirius snapped defensively. The other just chortled.
“Oh hoh, I may well be the last friendly face you ever see, y’know. I’ve heard what you did. You little rebellious type, you.” The man shuffled to one side of his rag pile and patted the space he once sat. Sirius indeed took a seat, but on his own rag pile as far away from the old man as possible. There was a very distinctive smell coming from that side of the room. “So they’re gonna take your sister apart like a doll and stick her bits to some rich sky-sucker, right?”
Sirius shrugged angrily, but the expression on his face said volumes.
“Do you know what they’re gonna do to me?”
“What they do to anyone that dissents the way you did, I guess. You’ll be marched out into the desert or into the Sickening.” The very name ascribed to the radioactive wastes that were
once the rest of the city was enough to make Sirius shudder. It was said that monsters roamed there, twisted by the Sickness and filled with a lust for pure humans. “Probably the sickening. Dehydration’s too good for you, I reckon. They’ll enjoy the idea of you growing lumps and going mad more.”
“Well, that’s it then.” Sirius slumped against the rough wall behind him, a headache throbbing in his skull. “I’m… I’m gonna die.” It was surprising yet depressing to him how little the thought truly bothered him. He’d always known that he probably wasn’t going to see old age, at least, not nearly as old as the man before him.
“I wouldn’t say that. Just that you’re probably gonna suffer a whole lot more than you have here before you finally give up the ghost.” A rasping chuckle escaped the bundle of bony limbs and long, gray beard.
“So why are you in here?” Sirius snapped. The old man tapped his nose.
“That’s for me to know and you to think about.”
“Well if I’m sharing a cell with a criminal-”
“Did that knock on your head knock your brains out too, boy? We’re both criminals. And you have committed the biggest crime of all. Questioning our gods on the earth.” Another laugh. “So, why’d you hate your sister so much?”
Sirius instantly bristled.
“What in the spirits” name does that mean?” he snarled. “I love my sister. They took my brother four years ago too. The only reason they haven’t had me is because my heart’s broken.”
“Pooh, that’s poetic.”
“I mean literally, you old goat. It doesn’t work properly. I’m probably gonna die in a few years.” There was a moment of quiet. “I just don’t understand why nobody stands up to them.”
“Because they’ve got one whole class o” people under their feet, and one whole class o’people sat in their lap barkin’ down at the others. That’s why. It Ain’t ever been different, boy. This is how things have been for thousands of years, just in different ways. And that’s the way it’s always gonna be.”
Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction: The Missing Ones: A Dystopian Adventure Page 2