Eternal Flame

Chapter 8

Jackson

   As we are all filing out of the Dome, I notice the simple stage that is set up for the contestants. A white and grey platform stands surrounded by crowds, with a brown podium speaker in the middle. There is a long, white table where the judges sit, right in front of the stage, with three guards standing around it.

   While guards position us at the side of the stage, a man in his early thirties (wearing a dark blue tailored suit, bald), walks up to the podium and starts speaking the same speech that is given every year.

   "To succeed in life, especially in a time like this, it is crucial to learn about the simple things that make success possible. One of them is education, which in our country, we believe every child needs. In order to expand a child's knowledge and creativity, we have created a contest long ago for children ages 5-16.

"The "challenge," he continues, making air quotes with his hands. "Is simple. The participant is to first make a one sentence speech about how our nation inspires them, then about an invention they would want to create with the help of the government, as well as how this invention could help our fellow citizens. As I always say, if you can find the missing puzzle piece, you can find the glue to put it back together.

   "The winner of this competition will have the chance to take three others to the capital, where they will be treated as high class residents while helping create the invention they previously talked about." He pauses there, a smile with hidden meaning crossing his face.

   The unnamed man goes on talking about rules, sneaking glances at us every once in a while, but my mind has drifted elsewhere.

   There is always a twist in the contests the government holds; and today the twist is that the winner and their three companions will go back to their previous life right after their work as a helper is finished. Therefore, this competition is for the mere pleasure of living high class for only a certain amount of time. But people will jump at any opportunities to leave- even for a short time- from their low incomes and everyday slavery to see a gorgeous life outside of this town.

   I watch the man standing up on the stage, and think about the life he must have living in the upper class capital, away from the poor sectors or the army regions where the sky is grey every single day. I think about the many chances he has to sneak into the main government building and discover all the secrets they hold. Or maybe he already he already knows them.

   A sudden glare reflected from the sun snaps me out of my daydream. On instinct, I hold out my hand and shield it in front of my eyes, but as my hand travels up to my forehead, the object which had created the glare catches my attention. I squint to see the already familiar camera planted in a nearby tree, and once again fantasize about what meaning and purpose it holds. My thoughts drift to my father, who died of unknown causes.

   I remember the humid night when the police had come to our door and announced that he was dead. No explanations were given to us, and nobody pressed on the topic, afraid of what we might find out. My mother had kept on a brave face for the remainder of the family, but I had heard the sobbing through her bedroom door every night after ten, when she thought her kids were asleep. This went on for about two months before she eventually started to accept the facts, and after a year or so, things seemed to be back to normal once again. Or as normal as it could get living with one less parent.

   Confusion over why the higher class are keeping so many secrets from the others swayed inside my head until it turned into a steady beat of a headache. Anger was on the edge of breaking into my system, but I forced it down, knowing if I broke down now, this competition would be a waste.