"Peter!" his mother yelled. Her volume wasn't nessesary, but it served its purpose all the same. The two of them were in the same room, and although it was meant to house more than five, it wasn't fit f or even one. Peter's younger siblings ran and played about the place as he stitched together clothing and his mother cooked.
"What is it?" The chair he sat on had been pushed into a corner between the wall and the counter his mother worked at. At his feet were several blankets and pillows, all of them filthy, patched and stitched up. There was no table and the only separate room was the bathroom, and it wasn't in any better condition than the main room.
"Don't forget you're going to work today, you have to wear your good trousers. I've washed them and patched them, just for your first day." She said as she handed him a bowl the size of his fist, filled with mashed up bits of meat and small pieces of tomato. He ate it in quick bites and pieces, ravenous despite his excitement.
Outside their apartment was a thin line of pavement, connecting their apartment with some of the others on their level. One of Peter's neighbors waved as he left for work. One of his hands was slightly bandaged, and although the gause had been soaked through and was older than it probably should have been it had been left on anyway. It's not as if they can afford more, none of us can. Peter thought to himself as he raced down the pavement, keeping close the the solid line of apartments. He'll be just fine. The thought didn't sit quite right in his mind, but instead of thinking about it Peter merely cast it aside. To his right were the apartments, and to the left was what the support dwellers called The Hole. It was a large pool filled with mysterious liquid and garbage, the polluted soil surrounding it equally as revolting. On its banks sat and lay many men and women, most of them starving or exhusted, if not both. Of course, Peter made no special notice to this. It was this way every day, this was the way it had always been. The boy wrinkled his nose as he passed by.
Surely not? Everyone seems so miserable. It couldn't have always been like this. The boy thought to himself. He recognized his neighbor's wife by the pool, her nose broken and bleeding, her arms covered in slashes and cuts. Before he could think this through much farther, he had ascended a steep steel staircase and then a trainstation. A crowd of other supports-dwellers waited for the next train along with Peter. Some of them were teenagers like him, others were as old as fifty, which was a rarity in itself. Working for the the top-siders was by far the best paying job, and because of that people could pay for small amounts of medicine on occasion when nessesary and bandages. Those people would most likely out live the rest, and their families too.
A computerized voice was heard coming from speakers above the workers. "Your train will arrive in three seconds." Its headlights were visible from the platform at which they stood.
"Two seconds." The sound of the train came next, filling their ears. It was like slashing a knife through air at rediculous speeds.
"One." The train did not stop nor slow, instead for the few seconds it was present workers jumped in one after another into the sideless train. Some missed it all together and fell into the Hole below to their immediate demise, others hit the tracks or the edge of the train's flooring and met the same fate. Most made it aboard, including Peter. He held his shoulder on the short right to the top of the tower, he had hit it when jumping in.
Upon arrival to the top the train stopped abruptly and its passengers jumped onto the next platform before ascending another steep staircase, this one highly polished and white. Upon reemmerging from the staircase the upper level's lush plastic plant gardens and pearly white houses came into view. Aside from fake plants and a few patches of astroturf everything in sight was white- except for the sky. Peter gazed up at it with great curiosity. In the Supports all that was above was unlit darkness, but here was the wild and untamed blue, tinted red ever so slightly. The boy wrinkled his nose at the smell of pesticides, perfumes, body sprays and dissinfectant, in fact, the whole place wreaked of the stuff.
Following his memorized instructions, Peter tore himself away from the sights and burning smells of that place and walked up and down numberous streets before arriving at his destination. He was greeted at the door my a tall anorexic woman with perfect pure white skin and pirecing blue eyes. Her voice was hard and monotonous and her skin lacked a human softness. "Welcome to the residence of the Miaro family. Please state your name and bussiness."
For a moment he had no response and just stared at her. Is this woman real? He poked her and no response was had, she simply said again, "Welcome to the residence of the Miaro family. Please state your name and bussiness." He straighted and replied,
"My name is Peter Vontiloc, I am here to serve the family of this house." The woman opened the glass door for him but remained outside.
"Enter." He walked inside and found that, although there had been no windows on the outside, every exterior wall was covered in them. The centre of the room was lowered annd formed the living room, complete with a couch that wrapped all the way around with a cylinder in the centre, images hovering above it. Along the edges of the room were selves filled with toys and other various knick-knacks and a kitchenette. On the couch laid a girl about Peter's age with silvery blonde hair and icey blue eyes wearing a one-piece skin tight suit of sorts, covering every inch of her body aside from her hands and her head.
"Excuse me, do you happen to know where I can find the head of the house?" She either didn't her him or ignored him, but either way there was no responce. "Miss?" He said loudeder. He scowled, dropped into the lowered portion of the room, jumped over part of the couch and stood in front of her, blocking her view of the images. As he looked down at her he noticed a white ring directly surrounding her pupil, although not totally obscuring one's sight of her irises. This white ring shrunk as he blocked her view and she slowly drug her attention away from the images.
"Hello." She said simply. There was no hint of curiousity, boredom or annoyance to her voice. In fact, she didn't seem to care at all about his sudden presence, a stranger having just waltzed directly into her home.
"The master of the house? I require my instructions for the day." Peter attempted to hold back his annoyance from showing in his voice.
She looked up at him inquisitively as if he had the answer as opposed to her. "Oh yeah, that would be me." She suddenly got up and, sticking both hands in a smooth crack in the otherwise perfectly smooth couch, opened up a hole in it, the material sliding gracefully apart. "So... uh... just, like, clean off these counters or something then just like, cool out here for a snipit. 'll you've gotta buzz." He raised an eyebrow at her way of speaking. He hadn't a clue as to watch she was saying. In fact, he wasn't even sure it was English. Do they speak some other language up here? He thought to himself as he attended to the lone counter. As he worked she stood watching him, rocking on her heels.
"Is it appropriate to talk to my employer?" She stopped rocking.
"Absotively posilutely!" She replied perkily. "Not everybody, though. Just, like, for me. It's a bit wonky as far as this bizzle goes. It changes from place to place. I'm Celeste BTW. Who're you?"
"I'm Peter Vont-"
"No, silly! Come on Peter Vont, you've gotta take this holonet quiz. It's great! It tells you just who you are." She skipped back over to the couch with him in tow. This girl is crazy. Then again, I prefer her to that woman. He shivered at the thought of the woman at the door.
"Who was she anyway?" He mumbled to himself.
Celeste played with a sphere above the cylinder until a red box floated in front of Peter. "Who, A.E.M.I.L.A? She's my macrobot. She just kinda meets all the peeps at the door." Peter stared at the box in front of him, not sure what entirely to do with it. "Are you gonna start the test or not?" She whined impatiently.
"What am I supposed to do?" He asked cluelessly.
"Can't you read? Just see what it says and answer the little questiony things." She explained to him.
"Would you just read it to me? I kind of can't..." He gestured towards the words in front of him. She rolled her eyes at him.
"You Supports are all idiots, aren't you?"
