Gasping Olympics

Act I

Sludge Wilkins

Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I register is the synchronized rumbling sounds coming from the engine instead of my digital alarm clock. I'm immune to the nuisance of the vibrations of my bunk and deck that make me cringe from the inside out. After I stretch my arms, I silence the alarm which is set at 0600H and groom myself in front of the mirror for another day spent focused on survival.

While trying to convince myself that I need to start this day sooner than later, I glance at the four corners of my old twenty-square-meter cabin, which is the only tranquil ambiance that I've ever seen in my nineteen-years of existence. This is the designated room and home of Plebeians...the roof-top workers, the man-power of the Engine Department, the dirty people who dig in hopes of expanding the subterranean ground. In short, the minority of humanity. They are at the bottom of the pyramid, seen as nothing more than a slave.

A long time ago, during the man-power crisis, all criminals, convicts, radicals and other citizens who committed minor crimes in our community were sanctioned to a lifetime of community service in order to be granted parole and forgiveness by our law in lethal-sentence. Unfortunately, the children and children of their children shall pay for the crime as well. Our new government believes that all the bad aspects of people are encrypted into their genes and can be inherited by their offspring. In other words, it's my great-grandfather's and great-grandmother's fault why I am here today. I am charged for my ancestor's crime. My service is the payment of their mistakes. I was forced into labor when I reached the age of eighteen, and that was a year ago. I admit I blame them for wrecking my life, and I hate them unquestionably. I envy the fact that while the other Plebeians and I suffer, the Elites are enjoying privileges we don't have and everything the good life has to offer. I keep dreaming to be an Elite, but that's a fantasy. By blood I am dirty, and that's why all Plebeian children are name after something dirty and disliked. My father gave me my name, Sludge. A dirty and used up oil that I have never seen in my entire life since dirt has no place in our sanctuary.

***

Thousands of years ago, planet Earth started to show some signs of its fragility. Our forefathers called that phenomena global warming, the first stage of planet destruction. In our history and meteorology classes, our educator discussed the causes of floods, storms, draught, the melting of ice caps in north and south poles, the rampant shifting of tectonic plates and the destroyed equilibrium of the Earth's atmosphere. When the time came, air was not safe for anyone or anything. Billions and billions of lives came to an end. Most species became extinct and problems arose as the land mass decreased. It was the greatest horror in the history of mankind.

To preserve the remaining lives left on this ruined planet, our forefathers dug through the ground of what they called Australia and built a huge subterranean community with thousands of Air-Detox-Generators or what we call ADGen on the roof-shelf. Those titanic generators with noisy engines removed noxious and other toxic substances mixed in the air and converted it to renewable energy resources. Pangaea is now our home; it's a small underground sanctuary. As time flies, it expands in relation to the population, and the numbers of generators were increased because of the high-demand of clean air and energy consumption. Therefore, a new set of totalitarian reforms and orders governed Pangaea.

***

Next to my cabin is where my parents are assigned. I went to greet and invite them to eat together at the dining hall. This is our routine. All Plebeians are gathered in one huge ward to eat together at the scheduled time. Late comers on chow will miss their tray of food that was issued by the Agri-Food Department.