Lost Atoms

Chapter 2

I close the rotted wooden door behind me as I head to the kitchen. Our pantry is almost bare, but I grab a small bag of oats and our last jug of water. Six empty jugs sit nearby. If I remember to put them outside later, I might be able to get some free water during rain day.

I throw the two ingredients together into a blackened pot, rationing some of the oats for another time. After placing the pot on the electric stovetop, I set it to medium heat. I watch patiently as the stove clicks a few times, threatening to break down again, before the element finally changes from black to a dark red.

"Asher, is that you?" a wheezing voice calls from the other room.

"Yeah, it's me, Mom." I find her feeble frame nearly engulfed in the cushions of the couch. As I sit on the rocking chair to her right, she opens her eyes with great effort. "I was just putting on dinner."

A weary smile crosses her face, and a wide lock of grey hair falls, obscuring one of her eyes. She doesn't pay it attention. "What are we having, m'dear?"

"Porridge again, but I'll add sugar this time. Mrs. Veilix gifted us some the other day, but she asked we keep it a secret."

She slowly raises a shaky hand and puts it on mine, her cold thumb massaging the back of my hand. Her frailty is concerning for a woman of thirty-six, even in a city where the life expectancy is forty. Malnutrition, residual radiation, and a downright horrendous quality of life has taken a real toll on her.

"Real sugar?" she confirms.

"As real as it gets."

"Is it safe?"

"Mrs. Veilix bought it from the shop, but she used her spectrometer to double-check. No radiation. I promise."

Mom nods slightly before closing her eyes again. I stand, and her hand falls from mine. Her arm hangs beside the couch, but I lift it back up, and place it on top of her.

"Rest," I whisper, and I brush the hair from her eye, leaving to stir the oats briefly, before entering my bedroom.

My room is a little messier than my friends', and I can't find my Networker on a first scan. I cross the wooden floor, careful not to step on anything sharp as it is littered with several bicycle parts I've been trying to assemble.

I shake the single sheet on my untidy twin-sized bed. I could have made it after waking up, but breakfast and fitness take priority. Since nothing falls from the sheet, I run my hand down between the bed and the wall. A thin coating of dust on my fingers is all I bring up.

My floor is littered with the parts of a bicycle I've been trying to fix, so I carefully avoid stepping on anything sharp as I make my way to my dresser. I open the drawers, shuffling through tattered pants and worn-out shirts. Odd trinkets that never sold occupy the drawers as well. Each one I open is emptier than the last. I don't own much.

I find my Networker in the fourth drawer. It's a small blue cube I don't carry on me, since they're prohibited for those of us without a trading license. When dome cities were built, shops needed a new way to order inventory. Mom says there used to be something called the Internet, but it was no longer feasible as most data centres were abandoned in the Between. The internet went offline. New Niagara's solution is the Network, accessed through a closed-system buy-and-sell device that communicates data with other Networkers, even over vast distances.

"Run Networker," I command.

It reacts instantly to my voice, projecting a hologram that expands from a small pinhole in the top. The phrase 'WELCOME TO THE NETWORK' displays in the air in front of me, along with a keypad to enter credentials. Instead, I click the letters in the phrase to spell out "EMOTE". This will allow me to use the device anonymously.