Jupiter's Moons (Rough draft/purely for editing)

Untitled Part 1

Sometimes, when you look up at the sky at the right times, and angle yourself just right, you can see the other moons.

Europa was always my favorite, probably just because of how glamorous it was made out to be. From where we were, you couldn't see the glittering cities or lavish parties they always showed in the newsfeeds. I would gaze up at the sky and imagine what life was like from the images on the old battered screens that flickered constantly and cut out sound. Io wasn't much different, but it wasn't where all the famous people were, just the upper class ones, so they didn't show it much. I would have given all the stars to live on either one.

When Leo was still alive, we would sometimes sit outside on the roof and joke about the way people could possibly live like that. All that food and fun and nonsense. It just didn't seem logical to us, the way people could eat so much and do nothing while the rest of us worked. Most of the time we would just make fun of them, and mock their silly accents and and stiff posture. Sometimes we would actually get angry at them, and how they could sit back and enjoy all of our hard work while we had nothing to show for it except aching backs and starving children. We would sit there, fuming silently while we pressed all of our loathing into a glare on Europa.

We learned about how we all came to be in school, Leo and I were both able to attend in the free years. After the 7th year, when the Council required compensation for children to continue, our education was cut short. Not like you need to know how to conjugate verbs when you work in a factory.

Still, history had been my favorite subject. I liked learning about how we got here. A war-filled and apocalyptic planet was dying, and everyone in it would cease to exist. Disease filled the land, and you could trust no one. Until one day, a ring of leaders rose from the ashes. They managed to get everyone who wasn't dying of sickness or siding with the rebels on a spaceship, and then split them up according to wealth and status on the moons of planet Jupiter.

The Council was our saving grace.

Or at least the original ones were.

Now all the Council does is ignore our cries of hunger or pain while they sickeningly stuff themselves and live like gods. Oh, and they take our children too. Our friends, our family.

Leo was fourteen when he was drafted. They start drafting you starting at age ten for boys and twelve for girls, and end when both are sixteen. Fear starts when a child turns ten or twelve, and starts to subside with each passing year. In between those ages, a birthday is something that's celebrated more, signifying another year where their child wasn't drafted by the council and sent off to fight. Leo was almost safe. But the joy of him living another year had barely worn off before he received the Calling.

Some Callings are painful and slow, but Leo's was quick. I watched it from the roof, covering my mouth with one hand to stifle sobs while they took my best friend away. I wasn't a big crier, but I cried the day Leo had his Calling. The only small consolation I had from that experience was the way he took it bravely and quietly, like a man. It was so like him. He didn't cry or complain, didn't even have one sad glance back at his house or family. Some boys and girls beg not to be taken away and pitch a fit. They're dragged away kicking and screaming, but first are beaten to make an example of. You would think kids would learn. Some do. Some don't.

The Calling isn't the worst thing though. Only one child is entered in the draft, the oldest one. So when the red-jacketed officials march to your front door for the second time, it only means one thing.

That was three years ago. Leo was almost a year older than me, we were the same age for only four months at a time. I was thirteen, and he was fourteen. They tend to take you right around your birthday for some reason.