The Hunger

The Number

The alarm of the clock in Michael's room roared. Michael jolted heavily and he woke up because of the reverberation. The alarm was so loud, it seemed his eardrums are going to burst into pieces. But as soon as Michael woke up, it stopped. Michael sighed a breath of relief. Everything began crawling back to his mind. The silhouette, the anxiety, the breatlessness and an unsurmountable amount of tension. He was feeling nauseous. After he regained senses properly, he reckoned that he was hungry.

The dusk was taking it's toll. The sky resembled a painted canvas of violet and pink. It was never this beautiful outside the wall. It seemed as if the creator painted the mesmerizing sky for the elites whereas the commons lived under a grotesque blanket of smog and dust.

"Are classes created by the God himself?", Michael found himself in a perplex state.

"Indeed, it is.", Michael reiterated.

Michael was sitting on the bed, deep in thoughts when he rendered checking the time. It was almost 7 o'clock. The darkness outside the window was engulfing the city. There were numerous spots outside the wall, from where smoke was violently erupting. Michael was no stranger to these spots. They were the redressal mechanism of the citizens demanding medicine and food supplies. The demand was increasing day by day with an exponential increase in the amount of infections. The supply dusruption led to massive economic distress. Sirens were always roaring outside the wall. These disturbances was nearly void inside the wall and this made Michael uncomfortable.

"Isn't this always the thing I wanted? A peaceful world with no stench of  constant decay?", Michael wondered.

We humans are really funny. We tend to get used to things fast. Even when we adapt to a dystopian world, we feel uncomfortable in a utopia. Although we want to be a part of future, the dystopian norms prevail in our mindset. Michael was stuck with the same dilemma.

Michael was still feeling nauseous but his hunger was gone. The thought of stench and rot was the reason for it. Michael looked at the phone for the number to the reception. A small paper was stuck on to the phone bearing the seal of the hanging blades (inverted Lotus). 666 was the number. Michael couldn't remember the relevance of the number but it seemed familiar to him.

"Wasn't this the satanic number of the biblical myths?", Michael was shocked to the core.

The book of revelation; the number of beasts; all came crawling back to him. It's as if this is a divine intervention. In this apocalyptic world, the number was almost ironic; as if the allegory is being written by the satan himself.

"It might be a mere coincidence. Or is it some sign?", Michael thought.

Suddenly, a massive buzz roared in the room.

"Are you ready?", there was a voice in the intercom that Michael didn't notice.