The Day Earth Died

4. Invaluable Jewels

I entered my house, coat dripping, boots littered with dried mud stains. Mum was snoring; meaning her sleep wasn't so fragile anymore. I dropped my backpack on the table and unpacked its contents. I stacked the apples in the small pine closet that we used as a cupboard too. We didn't have much food—or clothing—so everything always fit in there. As for the bag of wheat, I left it on the counter. Eventually, when motivation would strike me, I'd hand-grind a portion of it into flour, mix it with water and cook it over a fire. I slumped down on one of the two chairs we owned, my head in my hands.

I wouldn't be able to sleep. Not like this. Not after Shawnee said the Recruitment might happen so soon. I had to know whether or not he was right if I wanted to get any sleep at all. Despite my will to leave, I stayed there, melting into the chair. The chimes, the orphanage, the tale; they haunted me. Why now? Why was the past resurfacing so quickly, so vigorously? Why was I still so sensitive about it? Why did I still care? I swore I'd move on. I swore I'd grow the fuck up. I scoffed at myself. Fairy tales, fairy tales, fairy tales. I can't hold on to fairy tales like this. I need to grow up. I need to stop clinging to mum and her stories. I'm not a kid anymore. She's not a storyteller anymore. I'm being ridiculous, I concluded and jolted up from my seat, exiting the house.

Night had fallen fast, faster than I could figure myself out. Through the thin clouds, moonlight shone. It guided me. The neighbourhood was quiet, dead almost. The silence gave me chills every time. No children running around, wind blowing past or pedlars trying to sell you their most prized possessions for a small part of your rations. My boots were sucked in by the mud with every step I took. Maybe the neighbours could hear me. I hoped they didn't.

I walked swiftly, my mind too occupied to allow me to linger idly. I recalled the record player officers gave parents once the birth of their kid was registered. As a child, I would play with the device, teething on its plastic edges. Considering its only recording was an automated message praising the Recruitment, it didn't matter much how chewed up it got. Though mum never abided, officers would apparently demand that parents play it to their kids as soon as they reach the age of 5. The primary goal was undoubtedly convincing young boys that becoming an officer was what they wanted and parents went along with it:

'The Recruitment is an important event that occurs every six months, on the 15 of January and July. It ensures the stability of our economy. More and more workers are needed for the Rationing to go on as cities grow Over. Under, technology allows officers to cultivate without the sun's rays. Male workers from 17 to 50 years old are required to get all the rations ready each month. In exchange, officers and their families will earn rations.'

The whole concept always baffled me. Even looking past the government controlling us with the promise of satisfying a primary need they ensured we couldn't fulfill on our own, the Recruitment was still morally wrong for not allowing women to enroll. I swept my mind clear of the frustration. It was useless, it always had been.

It didn't take me too long to get to the center of the neighbourhood where the government's messages were broadcasted. The structure was tower-like with some type of antenna at the very peak. Wires connected the screens that were strapped all around and dipped into the ground, probably reaching a generator from Under. Its constant buzzing ripped through the thick nightly silence. No matter how many times I had seen it, the technology never got less fascinating. I stared at the letters on the main screen, zoning out. I couldn't read that, most people couldn't. I brought my index and middle finger up to graze some little plastic dots next to the monitor, a recent addition brought by a sergeant who has a blind son. Around the screen, every potential announcement was written in braille and when the government had a message, the braille in question would have a light under it, warming it up. Mum taught me braille as soon as I could babble out a word; she said that when she'd go deaf, we would still be able to communicate. I touched the lit-up braille, confirming Shawnee's words. I also quickly checked the new value of jewels for the month. Jaspers, red opaque stones, were worth the most and amethysts the least.

With tomorrow in mind, I walked further East, to the river separating the neighbourhoods. Once I got there, I kneeled in front of the water and cupped it with my hand, splashing it on my face to freshen up a little. I enjoyed its slow, flowing sound. I took a sip of the clear liquid as well. I tugged my pants up, revealing the bruises I earned from being stomped on at the Square. With a wince, I washed the blood off.

Thoughts circled my mind, bad ones. We were not doing well lately, mum and I. Jewels were hardly enough to feed two when only one was capable of finding them. If you were to be part of the Recruitment, you were fed, dressed and bathed, and your family lived well too. The guilty consideration of enrolling had always been there, lurching somewhere in the corners of my mind. Whatever side I looked at it from, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. If life went on like this, we wouldn't make it this year. Plus I kept getting worse, spiralling further and further. I clung to the past; or rather, the past clung to me. I needed some fresh air. I needed to get away. I needed a way to forget about all this, a way to be someone else for a while.

I wouldn't feel bad about cheating the patriarchal system. It deserved that much. I had to get into the Recruitment. Mum would be alright; rations would already be prepared for her and Mar had promised, long ago, to take care of her if anything happened. I just had to convince her, disguise as a guy and register her as a family member. Then I'd work as long as necessary. The government is too desperate for workers to give a shit anyway.

I thrust my hand into my pocket, full from my trip to Mar's. I took a pill out. Those were the real reason I visited the pharmacy weekly. I tried to fulfill the quota each month; to feed us well. Though without a small boost, I hadn't been able to get the ends to meet. I never found out what those pills were exactly—Mar didn't put braille over his products. He didn't even need to write the medicine's name over the bottles because our neighbourhood was almost all illiterate. He was lucky his wife, Noel, was an entertainer for the government. She wrote them stories to distract them from their problems, or at least that's what her daughter, Laya, says. Mar had learned writing and reading from her when she was on a pregnancy break, but as soon as Laya was born, his wife had returned Under to work.

Along with a gulp of water, I swallowed the red pill. I sat back against a boulder to wait for the effects to kick in. I found myself falling back into the past. Because I was content with my decision of enrolling, I decided to allow myself a last dive into old memories. This river used to be such a happy place. It's where I had met my childhood friends from the closest neighbourhood. Every mother, even mine, would come out here and discuss. They'd talk about what's for supper, who's son is entering the Recruitment, what they're planning to do throughout the week. Clouds were white and lighter—sun could easily shine over us and make the river shimmer like it contained millions of diamonds. Instead of sharp little pebbles, the river was bordered by dark green lichen. I remembered loving to sit on it, my feet in the fresh water. Jewels were abundant because the river's flow was faster. I'd play and laugh and splash around with my friends. I wonder what became of them. I doubt I'd deserve to know. I can't even remember their names anymore, or their faces. Only their laughs when we'd play out here for hours—when sun still accompanied us that long. Those were bittersweet memories; the only time I was content with my life.

"How did I get here..." Melancholy waved in me as I shut down my past for good.

The pills soon made my blood pump faster. I got lightheaded from the feeling of strength that hit me. Until the day stirred awake, I panned in the river for jewels.

As soon as the horizon grew lighter behind its thick curtains of gray clouds, I rushed back home. I could hear the neighbourhood waking up; people walking around in their houses, grinding their wheat grains into flour, opening their shops, heading to the river for some fresh water or to pan. I tried to get into the house discreetly, but mum was already up, on our bed. She embroidered on a thin piece of cloth with some black thread. Shit.