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Why are tiles so cold? Who's idea was it to cover the Living Areas in tiles that freeze your feet after sliding out of bed?

Bolts of brisk shock travelled through my legs as I tried to get to the bathroom as fast as possible. My shoes were laying haphazardly in the corner of the room. I could already hear my mom's scolding. I slotted my feet into them and shuffled to the sink. I placed my hands under the tap and cool water began to pool in my hands. Splashing it onto my face, I took a sharp intake of breath as my eyes burned. Rubbing them, my reflection stared back at me. My fingers traced under my eyes, outlining the dark patches that contrasted them greatly. I hated my skin; so pale that it lets colour show through easily. Grasping for a nearby towel, I patted my face dry. Once I felt satisfied, and my shirt was wet from dripping water, I pulled open a metal door on the wall and let the towel fall into the chute.

By the time I reached the kitchen area, my parents were already in their routine. The kitchen is only small and it's sole purpose was for breakfast. Dinner was supplied by the compound. 'Cooking takes valuable time that could be better used for work.' Mom and Dad travelled through the kitchen like machines. I attempted to seamlessly enter into their pattern, but took a few missteps. In turn, Mom and Dad sat in their seats and spoke quietly to one another. I slid into my designated seat and stirred my food, if one can call it such. No colour really, even less taste.

Like clockwork, my father chimed, "Stop playing with your food."

"You won't be able to focus in school without breakfast," Mom added.

"Perfectly made for the brain," Dad finished as I mouthed along.

I counted three seconds in my mind- "Did you take your medication?" Even though she already knew the answer.

Every morning, once I wake up, I take two tablets. White with the word 'Phenutrin' etched into them. They scratch your throat and leave it feeling raw. But it goes away after a few sips of water during breakfast. I nodded as I raised my glass. The rawness was nearly gone already. You would think the initial burn would lessen too after 10 years. It doesn't.

Just as my parents scraped the last spoonfuls out of their bowls, a repetitive beep sounded throughout the compound. I scrambled to throw my half-eaten breakfast down another chute in order to catch up. As we approached the door, dark figures passed by, blurred by the frosted glass. The door slid open and exposed the organised chaos. Troops of people walked in the one direction; outside.

*****

School is my favourite part of the day. Not because of classes, they tend to drag on. Well, I do like the new class on Sector History.

The room was dark and silent when I stepped inside. Gliding through the room , I settled into my self-assigned seat. Front row, last seat against the left wall. Best seat to get to watch the other Sectors discreetly while still hidden among the Science students.

Gradually, I could hear the impending entrance of my classmates. In neatly divided groups, they began to fill the room in presence and sound. It is quite interesting to watch them come in as they seem to reflect their Sectors. Government and Media students entered together as a tightly-knit group, acting like birds with puffed out chests.

Science walked in in hushed conversation, clutching their study aids. They sat along the front row and continued their passionate discussion.

The Agriculture Sector and the Manufacture Sector were similar in the way they come in; a little sluggish. I guess I would be too if spent my time working outside or building. But it fades so quickly once they wake up more. To each their own if you like that sort of work.