A teenage girl hopped off the train after a long day at work. Her boss had been hard on them that day, saying these for a party in Silver wouldn’t make themselves.
As she walked across the dirty platform to the outskirts of the city, her brown hair in tight braids tug mercilessly to her skull. Her small nose wrinkled as she smelt the dreadful stench of rotting, screwing up her flawless porcelain skin in the ugly gesture.
She smiled as she began to pass people, but didn’t speak to any of them. Her mother had always told her that most were not as genuinely kind as she, and warned her off dangers she might face. But, that warning hadn’t completely obliterated her hope that all had the potential for kindness. She snickered then, as she always did, when she used or thought her own name. Hope.
Hope was almost home now, her legs just beginning to ache from the distance. A hand brushed her ankle, and a strangled noise pulled her out of her reverie. Hope turned down to face the kneeling one – a girl about eight years old. Her hands were red and swollen, little cuts dabbing the skin.
“Are you quite alright, miss?” Hope inquired, the girl’s eyes glassy.
“It was a hard day at the carpet factory.” the girl said, her voice thick and small. “Might you have any food to spare, ma’am?” she finished politely, a brief look of desperation peeking through her calm composure.
Hope bent down, the feelings of respect and protection causing her to reach into the pocket of her work clothes. A moment later, she pulled out a small chunk of bread she’d spared from her lunch for later. She turned over her hand, placing the piece in the red worked hands of the child. Their eyes met, and Hope subconsciously noted that just like everyone else in Light Blue, the girl had a light blue eye on the right, and an off-white coloured eye on the left. City and Profession. Hope thought of the five cities, Gold, Silver, Teal, Violet, and finally, Light Blue. She knew without question that she was doing a great service to the people of her country, especially the ones more fortunate than her. Everyone was needed for something; she was needed to make clothes.
Hope stood up, brushed the dust off her work clothes, and walked, a little slower now, to her home. She had been luckier to get her job instead of carpet maker, a job that she enjoyed. But the more she thought about it, the closer her mind wandered to a thought that pierced her mind, a thought that undoubtedly everyone in Light Blue had had at least once: we could’ve been luckier.
This thought had made her unhappy, and she was recalling the pain in the little girl’s eyes. Suddenly, she felt a throb, a pulse really, at her wrist. She looked down at her bracelet, the familiar barcode and printed letters “Cinis, Hope” on it. She felt the pulse again, entwining with her heartbeat, and a wave of joy came over her. It blocked out and scrambled the pain and sadness that had clouded her mind moments before. It had all been chased away, and so she skipped, an eerie grin plastered on her face, all the way home.
