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Chapter Two

Chapter Two

In our society, we are made up of Ranks. 

The Ranks are an indication that we either belong into the system of the Upper Class or if we are part of the Lower Class. It’s not really a happy thought to begin with, especially when you see most of the upper ranks comparing their stuff to the unfortunate ones, looking all proud and mighty. Lucky for them actually. Not that I’m being bitter or anything.

The first ones are the Altiems, comprised of the government that ruled our country since the World War Three that shook the people so bad; it came to a point where most of the population went underground to hide. It was a hard time. There was no food. There was a scarcity of water, clothes, even electricity. The candles were enough to light a hut for a day. And then the dark overcomes the people again, forcing them to cower against each other, afraid of bombing attacks and gunshots that might erupt, even in the middle of the night. Everyone was scarred with no one in exception.

This led to the formation of the Ranks. Our ancestors made sure that all the work was divided for everyone and that everything was fair and square in the choosing. After comes the existence of the Council of Victors. Basically, they made the laws which we are forced to abide to. They give our every need from food to clothes to weapons and shelters. But it’s all up to them if they do decide to give it away. Most of the times? There’s always a price to pay. 

After a few decades, the Altiems started to notice the wavering unity among the Ranks. The camaraderie that has once been there was now shattered and broken into a million pieces, highly impossible to be fixed. But if it were, there would always be hairline cracks on it, like a building might have after a really strong earthquake. Our ancestors were soon divided by the invisible line that separates the Upper Classes and the Lower Classes.

For the Upper Class, there are the Medics, Fearless, Ikons and the Traders. Two, three, four and five, respectively. They are more fortunate in life. They are otherwise known as the doctors, the soldiers, the artists and the, well, traders who weirdly uses money instead of bartering things like the ancients used to do a long time ago. 

To be honest, they’re really bossy! They’re insensitive, mean and most of all, though I don’t really get why, respected. Why were they even respected? They even hesitate when it comes to giving some leftovers to the Peons and outgrown clothes to the Homeless. Too selfish.

For the Lower Ranks, there are the Agronomists, Drudgers, Peons and the Homeless. I belong to the first one. The Drudgers are the factory workers, in charge of the electrical outposts and machine made things the people mostly need. Well, you know the Peons, and the Homeless are the criminals.

For a few years, after the widening gap between the Ranks, when the matters slowly died down, the Altiems decided to offer the chances of having the privilege to become a part of the Council of Victors. They’ve decided to evict a member who didn’t deserve the spot anymore every 10 years, and the winner will be the one who’ll resume the spot. Of course everyone lapped up to it like dogs would be to a bowl of water after being under the sun for a whole day. Whether you’re young or old, you can join. But here’s the catch. You get trained physically, emotionally, mentally in every aspect possible. You win or you lose. Translation: you either become a member or rank down to the slaves, and the worse, a homeless. No give or take. Once chosen, you have to go on. 

And that’s exactly why I’m nervous. I’d rather die being an Agronomist rather than die as a slave. No offense.

But I have to go on. I have to be one of them.

The boy, Xavier as what the host said, was still staring at me by the time he stands next to me, our shoulder brushing against each other once. I scoot a little closer to the girl next to me.