Gasping Olympics

Act IV

River Garland

Hold your breathe!.. Hold your hope!.. I think this is always the closing salvo of Wendell Guidotti ever since he became the Head Watcher of the Gasping Olympics.

Last year when I joined and failed in preliminary evaluation, Wendell usually gave a wicked cheekiness to my previous batches of applicants who nearly dies in flood. In this year, Watchers challenge us with their mist. I sigh. I'm confident to pass this test unlike to last year. I can't swim due to my prosthetic right leg and I haven't trained myself in swimming classes in our secondary physical education.

Memories are still fresh from my head. Rescue teams assisted me and revived my fifty-fifty chances to breathe again. Thanks and here I am today - feeling hopeful to pass the evaluation for the second time even though the third-times Champion of the Gasping Olympic spits on my dignity. The steel on my lower extremity serves as my charm and my inspiration to go on my dreams. Dreams to become a hero. To be a champion of this death-racing.

It was nine years ago, the fist of retribution knocked my hard head to turn it soft. If I had just listen to my father in avoiding my misbehavior steps in our refrigeration plant's escape chamber; maybe I shouldn't lose my precious right leg. But I never regret it. My childhood days are perfect blithe despite of being a Diverse.

My father who's formerly an Elite wedlocks on my Plebeian mother. Therefore, I was considered as half-blood Elite - a clean child and half-blood Plebeian - a dirty child.

Except for having one-child policy imposted in the codex of our law, government subdivided a middle strata in our society - the Diverse, the not-so-clean-people, the second layer of the Pangaea's Social-Pyramid, equivalent to the eight filial Plebeian children.

***

Wiping my hesitation, a flash of electricity sparks on my head! I rush to get one portable Emergency Escape Breathing Device on the inside of emergency life-saving box which is fixed in the arc structure of the ward. I hold my breath to avoid inhaling the toxic mist before I get a one E.E.B.D.

I'm the first applicant who took the immediate action then others followed my response. Some of the new takers begin to collapse as they inhales the strong fumes of toxic gases. I doubt their ignorance because this scenario is commonly taught by our educators in secondary education. Our education curriculum focuses in rescue and survival subject for our awareness in like this situation. Our government give a yearly budget for our education for all Plebians, Diverse and Elites age seventeen and below.

Rescuers wearing a thick and heavy-to-look biohazard suits appears on the scene to save and drag those applicants who faint on the deck. Those applicants are already eliminated from the test. Others are rattling and has lack of knowledge on how to wear and use life-saving equipments. I frenzy! I love adventure and that is the reason why I always disobey my disciplinarian father.

After I lose my leg, he became strict on my actuations. In fact, he dissuaded my decision in joining Gasping Olympics for the second time and even threat me to betray as his son. My mother is different because she is carefree. I never ashame to call myself a mama's boy. I seldom talk to my father because I don't want to be babied. I'm twenty years old and independent to live a life that makes me happy.

***

I start wearing the mask as the straight metal straps automatically warps, wraps and self-tight on my head - sealing my nose and mouth from the shroud of toxic mist. As much as possible, I make my moves fast as I could. From my right side of strap, I press the one tiny button so that synthetic glass will position in my two hazel eyes - a transparent eye shield.