Parandaia

Chapter One

Things used to be different.

I tell myself this everyday...because it's true, and it provides me with the smallest, most miniscule ray of hope that things could get better.

Could.

If only it never became different in the first place.

Well, enough reminiscing and daydreaming for one morning. I stretch, grunt, yawn, and kick my quilt off of me - one of the two blankets my family owns, covered with holes and dirt and dust, and made from my little brother's baby clothes that physically can not be turned into any clothing in our sizes. My brother and I share this blanket, just as we share the little run down, rodent-eaten mattress in the left-hand corner of our hut.

I fold the blanket neatly over Tiblai, who always sleeps against the wall, and I rise up off our poor excuse of a bed. We found the mattress after a nearby neighbor committed an Eppaclisay and all of his belongings were thrown in the street. I fought my way through that mob with Tiblai, and I made him sit on the mattress so no one would try too hard to wrestle it from me. As much as we have turned into emotionless monsters, I don't know very many people who would risk an Eppaclisay by hurting a child to get a beaten up mattress. Tiblai rode it back to the hut, and I still remember the looks of longing and jealousy that clouded the usual lines of worry upon our neighbors ever-tired faces. When we got home, I took the safety knife out of the holster that hangs on the wall above my bed, or at least, the spot on the floor that I had slept on before the mattress, and I set the new piece of treasured furniture on it's side and cut it in half so that Tiblai and I, and my parents each have a mattress. It may not be the thickest thing anymore after cutting it, but we fit on it just fine. It's exactly two people wide, a twin-sized in the olden days, according to my father. Now, that's the only size we ever know. And, it always beats the floor.

I grab the bucket off of the wooden counter and walk out to the well; I greet the Wellkeeper as usual: "Hello Wellkeeper Somule."

"Hello. Show me your Reference Code." I undo the cuff protecting my right wrist and discreetly show him the code implanted into my skin. Every citizen, no matter how poor, gets a Reference Code at birth by a Higharch. The codes keep track of how much Purchase Points we have, everything we buy, and of most every-day actions that we perform, to ensure we are doing what we generally should. I have read books before where people predicted what the future would be like: Kid's killing each other for entertainment; a divided up country depending on the citizens morals resulting in power-hungry tyrants; a world where people don't live to see thirty; or a society where people have no free will whatsoever, but they are treated as though they do. I love reading, but especially those books. They are hilarious! We aren't monitored 24/7. I know it sometimes seems like we are too watched, but I also know that we are not being tricked into happiness, because we are hardly ever happy, and because the President just wants to make sure that we are all being provided what we absolutely need, even if it's not the best living situation. Too bad beds aren't considered necessities until you are fifty years old.

Somule types my code into his work tablet, makes sure my face matches the picture on the electronic screen, and nods. He sets his tablet in its holder on the stone outer wall of the well and as he takes my bucket and fills it up with water, I snap my cuff around my wrist again and type in the lock code on the keypad that appears on the silver. The numbers disappear with the faint click that ensures me that the cuff is locked again.

He hands me my wooden bucket, and I thank him, and head back home. As soon as I enter the door, Tiblai and my parents begin their chores to prepare for the day. Tiblai separates the water into three containers: one to boil for our two meals, one to cool in our one-foot-by-one-foot refrigerator, and one with soap that stays on the table for cleaning purposes. My mother takes half of the boiling water and adds our Monday breakfast mix to it, while my father cleans himself, Tiblai, and I up, then they change into their clean outfits, and I take their dirty ones and set them into the bucket with the cleaning water. My father divides up the portions of our breakfast onto four different plates while my mother cleans herself. We both change as Tiblai gets four glasses of water, and we are all ready to eat at the same time. This is how every morning goes, and despite our tight schedules and difficult lifestyles, I give each member of my family a small smile as I eat the lumpy, yeasty ball of wheat and oats in front of me.

They each smile back.

AUTHORS NOTE: I edited this first chapter! If it doesn't make sense, if there's a typo, or if you just wanna say that you like it, please let me know! I will try to add more soon! Hope you enjoy it so far!!!