The Eradication Construct

Chapter 1

PART ONE

Chapter 1

I walk between black, debris-filled roads to get to the Nourishment Gardens. A mixture of small children's toys and dirt sit in piles, creating walls of filth for the other children of Sector One to walk between. The sun shines most days, here, very rarely is there a cloud in the sky. Crops grow on either side of the road - fruits and berries on one side and vegetables on the other. It was time for the weekly harvesting. Any child can harvest at any time during the week, but I like to get there early on Mondays so I have first pick. My mother calls me selfish for doing so, but she never complains when there's food on the table. I never need to collect much for the week because it is only my mother and I living in our quarters. There's not much need for copious amounts of anything there.

You always go to the back of the garden when you harvest, it's neglected, and there's more to harvest – my mother, Fera, suggested before sending me out to my first harvesting when I was six. My mother is slender and tall with blue eyes and luscious red hair; the least identical to me, a tall and womanly-bodied young lady with black hair and dark brown eyes. An early bloomer, my mother would call me. I pull out my knife from my satchel, readying for a quick harvest, I wouldn't want any thieves to come. I grip my knife firmly as I walk through the passageways, turning to check for other children harvesting – there are none. Most don't bother to come this early – before sunrise. But I like watching the sun rise in the morning, as well as watching it set.

Get in and get out – I think to myself. The later it get's the more people appear and the more likely I am to run into a thief. Trust me, there are too many thieves lurking in the gardens to just linger about in the nine o'clock hour. The thieves of Sector One are heinous, possessive beings that would rather kill for their food than to harvest for themselves. Always in groups of more than two, it was easier for them to steal that way; one to distract and one to capture - the perfect plot.

The back of the gardens always have more food than in the front, because the food in the back is almost always forgotten about. Carrots, onions, and turnips sit in rows buried beneath the black-soiled ground and no one even thinks twice about them. I slide into the row of lettuce heads, gripping two and placing them both into my raggedy brown satchel.

Poverty doesn't exist in Sector One. Homes were built by the government and nothing is owned by any individual. Everyone in Sector One wears the same white, gray, and black shirts with black play-shoes and brown house-sandals. The government assigns a week's worth of clothing annually, making no one wardrobe more extravagant than the next. Equality is tranquility, President Robert Krimmley would say. He's the first of the three presidents of the newly established Americas - the formerly known America was divided into three Sectors: Sector One, Sector Two and Sector Three; placed in order of wealth and social class. This nation is the result of the Currency Rebellion. Years ago, the United States Stock Market grew popular; everyone in every state had a stock. It was the beginning of a nationwide pandemic. Then one day the stock market crashed, causing the United States' money to vanish into thin air. This sent the shocked world into frenzy. People who risked all of their money in these investments sank into poverty and the crime rate increased nationwide. This frantic behavior expanded after an attack on the white house and war broke loose over the country. The former President, Eugene Gateman, attempted to contain this world, restricting them by invoking stricter laws. But this only irritated society and the people rebelled. Riots ran through the streets of New York, fires broke free in the Virginian woods and the Grand Canyon became a body pit for the dead. To counteract, President Gateman implemented separation laws, dividing America into three separate but equal entities, leaving each Sector to the discretion of the President he put into office. But America became unsalvageable, leaving a wasteland for decades later to dwell upon.