Migration

Leah

Day 1

It was just a normal Friday until the lights went out. So ordinary that Leah had forgotten most of it before it was even over.

Ben and Rachael had kicked up the usual ruckus, before finally settling into bed at around 9pm. Bedtime was always hyper these days. Since Uncle Daniel had migrated, he always hollered around bedtime. It was sweet, but wound the kids up so much and left Leah to calm them down again, alone. Youssef's work on the Metro server cluster invariably kept him out until late, leaving her to fill the role of angry, impatient, humourless and – finally – guilt-ridden parent, whilst he scored easy points and affection whenever he breezed momentarily through their lives.

Leah tried not to feel bitter. They had a good life together and Youssef did everything she could expect him to do. He was loving and loyal, considerate and attentive. On her birthday, he would make her breakfast in bed and on the days she needed to get away or spend time with her friends, he would take the kids to the sprawling parks and savannahs outside of the Metropolis, spending the day playing hide and seek or playing games on the Holler.

As a reward for his loyal service, their apartment was a little larger and higher up than most. Their clothes were a little finer, a few extra luxuries could be found in the kitchen cupboards and the kids would be spared the worst apprenticeships in exchange for both his and their dedication. She felt ungrateful then, that her otherwise enviable life was shot through with loneliness and anger. A light mist of sadness permanently drifted through her mind, occasionally thickening into great banks of despair that isolated her in a momentarily inescapable gloom.

As the kids whispered quietly back and forward between their two rooms, Leah grabbed a bottle of spirit from the kitchen and glugged a large measure into the juice glass she had swilled out under the kitchen tap. She took a gulp where she stood, squinting her eyes as the liquid tore down her throat before mellowing in her chest. She tipped her head back slowly and took a deep, diving breath, which cycled in and eventually out of her lungs when her chin lolled back down to her chest. She took the bottle and the glass with her into the living room and, after dimming the lights with a swipe of her spare little finger, sank gently onto the lounge chair and let her body topple onto her side.

She stared blankly forward for a second, enjoying the momentary lack of thought and movement that she could coax into a dizzy paralysis, before being snapped back by the chirp of the Holler Box that lay under a delicate veil of dust in the corner. She sat up, but didn't look to see who it was. She needed a minute, just a minute. It was the case with her life that as one set of tasks faded, the next would immediately arrive. As if everybody conspired against her, secretly plotting when to make their demands and giggling to each other at her endless exhaustion.

When the Holler's calling stopped, she called out: "Show last visitor," and Youssef's name popped up brightly in the air. That was strange she thought, Youssef never called at this time. She stood up to check herself in the mirror before calling him back and, as she played with a stray curl that twisted down her cheek, the lights flickered once and faded. Without a sound, the room went dark, gently succumbing to the night. For a second or two, Leah held her breath within the unexpected blackness.

In the expanding dark, distant alarms began to call out, echoing eerily through the enormous gloom that melted the walls of every apartment and united their occupants in a communal pause. After the first few, more and more joined in, crying out for power and prickling Leah's senses as she searched through every layer of sound for explanations.

"Mum, what's happening?" Rachael's voice at the door made her jump back to herself, and the claustrophobic dark of the living room.

Rachael looked tiny, nervously clutching the doll that had been her bedtime companion for all of her three years of sleeping. Ben wasn't with her, doubtless already fast asleep and unlikely to be woken by anything except an earthquake or marching band.