The Anomaly Affliction

Two

Trigger warning: mentions of suicide, self harm and depression

The evening is chilly and the sky is grey. This part of Nacoma is known as the Amber District. Nacoma is shaped roughly like a rectangle, divided into eight equally sized (pretty much) districts, each named after a colour. There's the Amber District, the one Lake and I both live in, and: the Yellow District, the Green District, the Jade District, the Sky District, the Indigo District, the Fuchsia District and the Crimson District. They are all home to a nursery, a primary school, a secondary school, a university, a hospital, a shopping centre, a residential area and a park, amongst other things. The Yellow District is like the capital district – it's where President Curtis works and delivers her fortnightly speeches. It's also the most famous, and where the most money is made. None of the districts are poor, though; poverty is an ancient lifestyle that does not exist in Nacoma.

I walk down the same old concrete path passing the same old identical houses that never change. The occasional house has a big orange "FOR SALE" sign propped up in its front yard; that's most likely Amber residents wanting to move to the Yellow District to earn even more money. My parents don't want to move. They used to work in Yellow, but Amber is quieter. I've never been to Yellow. Or any of the other districts, actually. Wow. My life has been dull.

On my way to Lake's house, I pass a few groups of pedestrians. An older couple walking their dog, a group of what look like eleven-year-old boys walking with bikes, a family of two dads with a little girl.

I like to eavesdrop on people in public. I find it interesting to hear what people have to say about Curtis and the vaccines and the world.

"Another wonderful speech from the President this evening, wasn't it, dear?" asks the older woman.

"Definitely," replies her husband. "Although I had no idea about the anomalies trying to escape. They kept that quiet, didn't they, love?"

"What do they do to you in MisMap?" a boy with a bike asks his friends.

"My cousin told me they gauge your eyes out and strangle you," another boy says with a dramatic voice.

"Oh come on, no they don't," another boy adds.

"Yeah, you're right. They tie you up and beat you instead!"

"No, they don't. They told us at school that it's not a bad place. You just get anomaly medicine and stuff."

"Daddy, Papa, what's an...amonaly?" the little girl asks her dads.

"Anomaly," one of the dads corrects. "It's someone who can't be happy without being sad."

"Why?"

"They're not well. They need help."

"Is President Curtis one?"

"No. You saw her smile on the TV, she's very happy."

"Oh yeah. Why are her teeth so white?"

I turn a corner and reach Lake's street, walk past three identical houses and get to No.17: Lake's house. I check my reflection in the glass on the front door (I want to look as good as possible for my girlfriend) and knock. Then I wait. After about 6 seconds, the same as every time I come here, Mrs. Summerall opens the door and flashes me a wide grin. That's Lake's mum. She's a short-ish woman, slightly round, with a light blond bob haircut and big brown eyes.

"Good evening, Violet," she says cheerily. "I'm assuming you're here to see Lake."

"I am," I reply, forcing a smile. "Sorry, Mrs. Summerall."