Kardia

Chapter One - This Monotonous Life.

I open my tired eyes to the sound of a train whistle and to the sunlight pouring in through the cracks of my old window shutters. Sitting up from my bed, I hear my back creak almost as badly as the rusty bed frame. As I open the window, I see the steam train coming into the station allowing many ladies and gentlemen transport to the surrounding cities. I've always loved the train.  It's roaring whistle has brought me out of my sleep every day for the last four years.

My apartment is only two rooms, a bathroom and everything else. My bed is near a small icebox, a table with a lantern, and a small dresser filled with moth afflicted gowns and a pair of musty, old boots. I clothe myself in a dark blue dress with black lace around the collar, and adjust the girdle accordingly. After combing my platinum blonde hair and pinning it into a bun, I am ready for another arduous day.
I walk down two sets of iron, spiral staircases and out onto the dusty street corner, trying to keep dirt off my shoes.

The sweltering train station was so crowded that morning, I could hardly get a turn at the Kardia machine.

In Kratos, we have an odd currency, instead of paper or coins, we have energy. Along with health and strength, the Kardia machine can pull energy from your heart. It's how we pay. Because energy costs us time, and time is money. The more you pay, the shorter your life, the more you get paid, the longer you live.

I ran the numbers once, and I will most likely die at the ripe old age of thirty years old, but that's the average life for a glorified slave like me.

The vast majority of my energy I get from the clock factory, Pleonexia, goes to paying off the debt my late parents owed to the owner, a fat and greedy man named Skeeler Oteeta who will probably live to be one hundred and fifty. He is rich, because almost everyone in the city owes him something, and if they don't, their children do. Most of what little energy I do earn goes into savings for a brighter future, and the minuscule amount I have left for myself is for rent and food.

A young man with blue eyes let me sit in his window seat, once I boarded the train. I thanked him. I had always loved window seats; they let me see the world outside, full of oak trees recently regaining their buds, brass bridges, and men in worn out button ups and suspenders building barns on the outskirts of Kratos. The train was going to run late, but I didn't mind, it was that much more time between me and the clock factory.

For all the failures and faults of Kratos, it was a beautiful country. A land of snow capped mountains, bubbling creeks, crystal clear lakes, and wide caverns.  My only regret was that I had neither the resources nor the time to explore them.

The train screeched to a stop, and an inner sense of daily dread filled my soul as I arrived at the looming and ominous factory. A wave of grease scented air was blown into my face as giant turbines labored in an attempt to cool the machines.

I clocked in and wandered to my side of the assembly line between a gray haired woman named Epios, and a round faced boy who looked too young to work such long hours. I wasn't much older than him, fifteen years old to be exact, when I started at the workshop.

He smiled at me, and I gave him my most hopeful smile back, trying to ignore his finger tips that were chapped to the point of bleeding scabs.

I turned away and focused on my work, stamping the numbers on each watch, making sure the placement was just right.

For the first hour I didn't mind it, for the second I was growing tired, by the tenth and final hour I was exhausted, I could hardly keep a thought in my head, my knees ached, and my head was throbbing from focusing on such small font all day long.

The sun was setting as I finally left Pleonexia, and I was far too tired to enjoy the way the sun cast a purple hue on the coming train.

It was dark when I arrived home, and my legs were so sore I can hardly make the trek up the stairs. When I reached my apartment I collapsed on the bed and sighed.

Only six more years.

After an hour of resting I forced my body to prepare dinner.  It is the only meal I have time for in the day, so I make sure it is a good one. I prepared some pollenta with chicken and tomatos. It wasn't much, but it satisfied my empty stomach.

I tried reading a science book my father used to have, but after a short while the pain in my head was too strong for any action but sleep.

So I shut my windows, ignore the train, and spend my night dreaming of an existence outside of this monotonous life.