Aim Shorts

Paradise Retribution

Aim to Engage Prompt from @dystopianapocalypse, November 2022: "You live near a city that is world-renowned for its advanced technology, healthcare, and desirable jobs. Permanent admittance into the city is decided by a competitive lottery, and your name has just been drawn."

Story word count = 491

**** Contest Honorable Mention ****

I recalled the sheer joy when they drew my name. Only later did I understand how much paradise cost.

They named it Elysium, after the Greek mythological afterlife for the gods' chosen — an apt metaphor, since only by yearly lottery could an Outsider enter the golden city.

At the Selection, a time of hopeful celebration held on the Summer Solstice, my name was drawn. Zoe, my betrothed, cried in my arms before the separation. "Look for me from the east overlook," I told her. "Someday, I will come for you." But in reality, no one who entered Elysium had ever returned.

A long, comfortable life awaited all who entered, they said, free of the hunger, disease, and strife those outside endured. Beautiful and awe-inspiring, gleaming spires rose between grassy parks and tree-lined thoroughfares within the impenetrable transparent dome. It was a source of bitter envy for the Outsiders who lived in dystopian squalor, yet no one refused an invitation.  

Generations ago, the Fall ravaged the Earth's environment. In response, the Elite built the sprawling domed city for themselves, leaving others to fend for themselves. Most Outsiders perished.

But Elysium was not totally self-sufficient, relying on crops grown Outside. Periodically, brutal armed Collectors would come for the tithe. But as an additional incentive for compliance, they created the Selection — actually a wretched false hope.

From a roof in the predawn light, I hand-signed a simple message to Zoe, who stood on an eastern rocky knoll just outside the dome. "Go."

"We are ready," said the man who joined me, nodding an affirmation. He wore the same plain-gray outfit and metal collar of the Bonded.

The Elites did not bring in Outsiders to join them, but to serve as slaves. Somebody had to do the dirty work to maintain their high lifestyle. Blinded by my presumed fortune, I didn't notice the down-turned blank faces of the workers or the disdain of the Elite when I entered the gate. The psycho-active drugs were meant to subdue, taking away freewill until completely obedient. But for me and a few others, they wore off quickly. So we joined together, stayed low, and plotted.

And now, vengeance came.

I slipped into the security office, vacant this early, and sat down before the display screens. Over time, the Elites had become complacent in their laziness, even leaving the computers unprotected. So easy was it to deactivate the security system.

"What are you doing?" An irate voice shouted. I knew this Elite by how he abused the Bonded. The fine colored clothes he wore were woven by the Bonded from cotton grown by Outsiders. His status will not save him today. 

Hot rage swept through me and I charged. His eyes opened full and his mouth gaped as I snapped his neck.

Others with me swung open the eastern gates. Then, crowds of Outsiders assembled by Zoe shall sweep through this city like a flood. Today, paradise faced retribution.