Dystopia (Dystopia Trilogy Book 1)

Chapter 6

Note: This is the 6th chapter out of 20. Each Friday a new chapter will be posted. However, if you wish to read it now, it can be purchased on Amazon, B&N, iBookstore, Kobo, and Smashwords. You can also follow me on Twitter (JMRUL) and facebook.

Elsie and Dana clung to the dump truck as it moved throughout the city, making frequent stops for them to grab the canisters of garbage. They pulled up into a posh, luxurious multistory building.

"You girls will have to go in there and collect the bins. Pour their contents in the chute and then leave. There is a bin on each floor. And hurry up!" The driver settled back in his truck.

"And don't dawdle. These people don't like our kind in their building."

Elsie and Dana went inside. They walked up to the front desk of the lobby. The guy at the desk gave them a disgusted expression. He scanned their chips and allowed them to pass.

"You are to empty the bins on each floor," said the man at the front desk. "The faster you get it done, the better. Folk around here don't like seeing you people."

You people, thought Dana. In school, she was taught that the collective group was a family; each member had their proper role and all were to be respected, though she and others knew that the equality in their society was more words than reality.

"And don't touch anything," mocked Elsie as they climbed the stairs to the upper floors. "Folk around here don't like seeing you people around. Yeah, but they love having us empty their trash and clean up after them."

"Keep it down," said Dana.

"Why?"

"If anyone hears you, then we will both get in trouble."

Elsie paused on the stairwell. A pensive look crossed her face as she thought for several moments, making Dana nervous. "There's something wrong about that?"

"What?"

"Well, think about it," said Elsie, "We got sent to Waste Management because we asked too many questions, or refused to follow the rules. We cannot speak our minds without the fear of someone overhearing us and reporting us to an officer."

Elsie's words rang true and Dana knew it. She had spent her whole life afraid of speaking her mind for fear of punishment. When she did voice her opinion, she always got lectured. But school was a thing of the past, and now she was considered an adult. Punishment here was more than a lecture.

Dana thought back to Career Assignment Day and the man next door who was arrested as his wife cried in the street. His crime? He wrote a petition demanding the right to choose his own line of work and to be allowed to keep all of what he earned.

"You're right, Elsie," said Dana.

"Of course I'm right."

"But keep it down, for now. We have a job to do, and if we take too long, you know what will happen."

"All right," relented Elsie. "Here's the first floor."

"Actually," said Dana, stopping her, "why don't we go all the way to the top and work our way down? That way, we'll be on the bottom floor by the time we're worn out."

"Now that is first-rate thinking," said Elsie.

They hiked up the stairs in the coldly lit stairwell. Only non-essential personnel used the stairs. Those who actually worked at the building in the offices were allowed to use the elevator. Their feet slapped the linoleum of the floor as they ran to the top floor.

Exhausted, they stopped on the top step as they caught their breath. They panted heavily, taking long, slow, and deep breaths to slow their pulse.

"I hate stairs," gasped Elsie.