The Day Earth Died

1. Red Pills

I slashed the blade of a knife under the skin of an apple, efficiently separating it from the flesh. Each time I successfully peeled off a stripe of skin, I chucked it in my mouth. There goes breakfast.

"Malory? Are you there?" Mum's agitated voice cut through the silence.

I glanced back at her. She tried to sit up on our bed, her arms trembling at the mere strain. I let go of the apple and the knife and walked up to her.

"Of course, mum. Always." I touched her shoulder and she relaxed against my skin.

"Could you get me my cane, please?" she asked.

I hummed in response, handing it to her. Feebly, she stood up with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Nothing ever did. Nothing was strong enough to get through that milky white veil over her pupils. It haunted her and isolated her, always.

"Do you need help changing?" I offered as I grabbed her daywear in the closet.

"I'll change later," she said.

"Mum..."

"It's not like I go out anyway."

I couldn't argue with her on that. Still, I found that her daywear was more appropriate than her night dress. Nuns had knitted it for her as a farewell gift when she left the orphanage at 18. Its sheep wool used to be light gray but time along with perpetual, stubborn wears yellowed it. She refused to get rid of the nightdress, even after I described to her how ugly it had gotten.

"I made breakfast," I said as I arranged the skinless apple and some pieces of stale bread on the cleanest plate we owned.

"I'm not hungry."

As usual. I sighed and filled a glass with water from my bottle, fresh from yesterday. I tiptoed to reach the top of our closet, wiggling my fingers until they could nudge a white bottle closer to the edge. Finally, I grabbed it and it rattled as I pulled it back down. I unscrewed the lid and popped two blue pills onto the plate. I put the bottle back and settled mum's meal on the table, in the middle of the single room of our house.

"I have some trading to do. I'll be back before dawn." I took my coat off the hook on the door to slide it on, along with a worn-out backpack I had traded with a neighbour for some bread.

"Alright."

I gave her a last glance before closing the front door behind me. Outside, the streets were muddy, and the air reeked of a weak sulphuric scent. It meant the government's train was coming our way. It usually would only traverse our neighbourhood in winter because the colder weather was favourable for its motor; it kept it from stinking as bad. Wonder what they want again. I threw my hood over my head and crossed the main street to reach the shops on the other side.

Wind brushed against my cheeks and made my hair flutter softly. Chimes played their melody, clanking together. I halted and my eyes slowly screwed shut. I was taken back far; very far:

Sun peeps through the cloud and shines on my face. The sky wears a gorgeous shade of blue. Through the crowded, grassy streets, I course after a little boy. Giggles, chimes and the soft whoosh of wind sound in my ears. My white robe flows and I feel like I can fly. My heart leaps in my chest, my skin heats under the sun, my smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. I'm happy.

I slalom to avoid passersby but bump into someone anyway. It's a woman. She smiles down at me and strokes my hair, walking away. Flustered, I touch the spot where she patted me and giggle. I find her very pretty, and nice too. I quickly promise myself I'd become like her when I grow up before going back to playing tag, aware I would lose.

The boy reaches the river before I can touch him. Mum is there too with the kids from the orphanage. She tells them stories. So they can forget, she once told me. I don't know what mum means by "forget" but I don't burden myself with questions. We're there in time for the beginning of another story; my favourite story. The Lonely Dandelion.

Abruptly, I snapped out of it and cursed myself for getting distracted. Perturbed by the persistence of those old memories, I shook my head. Mum's mellow voice telling the tale was jammed in my head, nothing could silence it anymore. Every spring, The Lonely Dandelion waits until its yellow petals wilt away.

I tried to ignore it and kept walking for a while until I reached my destination. It waits, and waits until its fluffy seed head springs out. I entered the neighbourhood's only pharmacy as a bell tied to the door announced my presence. The shop was empty as it more often than not is. Mar, the owner, greeted me with his irritating, everlasting gaiety.

"A bottle of antidepressants," I ordered, yet he ignored my demand.

"How's Liz?"

"Elizabeth is doing just fine," I said.

It waits, and waits, and waits until wind scatters its seeds in the field, the tale told itself still. Mar leaned on the oak counter and played with his thin, upturned moustache.

"She shouldn't be consuming a bottle a week, you know. Antidepressants are nice in moderation."

I pressed my lips together. He watched me, waiting for a sign of agreement. I dug a deep purple uncut jewel out of my coat's pocket and placed it in front of him, on the counter. It waits, and waits, and waits, and waits until the shy sprout of a friend peeks out.

"Just give me the pills. I have an amethyst for you today." Mar's face lit up.

He turned around to head into the back store after pocketing the jewel.

"One bottle it is," Mar announced from back there.

I sighed. He gave up so quickly. Can't even blame him.

That's how things were. Jewels meant everything, or at least that's what the government decided. Every month, on the last day of the month, there was an official trade between the government and the residents of Over. Jewels for rations. People named it the Rationing day. The trade was established a long, long time ago; before mum was born. Eventually, jewels became the primary currency. In the middle of every neighbourhood, a piece of technology furnished by the government broadcasted the new value of jewels every first of the month. And as we were bound to, we adapted our economy.

This June, quartz were worth the most and peridots the least. Strangely, it was quite the opposite last month. Really makes you wonder what the government even needs those for. I never understood why. Why they wanted jewels so bad, why they were so selfish. Very few plants could survive in the meteorological conditions here but I doubted things were any better Under. They had some technology, of course. Everything was about technology with them. So why couldn't they share? Or rather, why wouldn't they?

The Lonely Dandelion is no longer lonely until... While Mar searched for the antidepressants, I first looked around to make sure no one else was in the pharmacy and then dipped my hand into a bag of red pills that laid on the counter, grabbing what I could. I hid my loot away in my pocket when Mar came back without a warning. A Hungry Bumblebee flies by and munches on the sprout until it is no more.

"There you go. And make sure Liz goes easy on those; they are damn strong."

He barely had the time to place the bottle on the oak surface that I had already seized it. I shot him a soft glare.

"It's Elizabeth, Mar." I turned on my heels, leaving.

"Whatever you say," he shouted as I passed the front door with the usual ding.

The Lonely Dandelion is lonely again, compelled to wait until spring comes back around.