Melody

Chapter one : The system

It's a nice place. It's a good day. It's nice when it rains. When it rains, I feel as if am not the only one whose crestfallen . I read once in a book that all the rain drops where collected from the people that cried before. But we all know that little story of the tears is'nt real because we can't cry. Nor can we laugh or show anger. We can't scream or yell even in pain. We can't even smile. Not because we don't want to but we just can't. There are rules against showing feelings in the world ruled by people called the "Creators". Why are they called like that? Well for one this, we live because of them. But, is this actually living ? From all the stories I've heard, it's not.

I wake up to the sound of my alarm. I have to get ready for work. A work that's very sad to do. I am a "Selector". What's that you ask ? We Selectors have a very important job to pick out songs for people. You still don't understand? Let me explain. In this place ruled by Creators, we can't show emotions but they can let you hear them. How? When you touch a person's palm, you hear music that describe how there feeling right now and since this place is depressing all I hear is sad music that it makes my brain think suicidal but they're not my music but theirs.

I get ready for work by putting on a grey jacket with an "S" on the back which indicates that I am a selector. I pull up my gray pants and I go to the mirror and put my long black straight hair in a high ponytail or whatever it's called.  I put on the only pair of shoes I own which are black boots. It's to bad that the Creators give only a pair of shoes every six months. I looked at the mirror and mentally smiled. Well I think I smiled am not sure what it was. I walk to my desk which was white like everything else in the room and the only thing adding contrast to the white pure room is my jacket and my black boots. I pick up a microchip that was on my desk and inserted into a hole that was on my right palm. The missing flesh appears and close the hole. Now if a person wants to know how I feel, all they have to do is to squeeze my hand.This applies to everyone except the Creators.The people who can express themselves with their  face and voice.

I walk out side my apartment and lock it and walk through the white walls that leads to the elevator that goes to ground level which is far for I'm at the fourteen floor. I pressed the button which had the arrow pointing down. It light up and I put my hands inside my pocket of my plain gray jacket that says "S" for Selectors. As I wait for the elevator to come, I hear someone coming. I hope she's someone I know so that I don't have to shake their hands. He or she. I don't want her to listen to the song that will be playing because I don't know what's it playing. In fact the only person that can hear the music is the other person holding your hand. You don't even know if the song playing right now is the one describing you correctly or not because that's all in the hands of the Selectors. Yep, me and my co-workers has to pick songs each time a person changes mood. It's a hard job. But at least tomorrow is my day off. Every single Sunday, it's "Quite day" in which everybody stops working and stay home or go about but not see people because they won't know in what mood your in.

The person who was walking was a woman and luck has it that I don't know her. She looks around and then her eyes stops at the "S" on my jacket and moved a step back. That's really weird. Many people would usually become friends with Selectors so that people would think that she's in a good mood when she's not but this woman backs up from me. She seems like a nice person that's 60s years old and she looks a bit heavy.

"Soooooo... Your a Selector..."

"Yes madam. I am a Selector." I said with out looking at her. She looks around the place as if she has never been here before. She turns around and I see that her light blue jacket as a "M" which means "Maid". She most likely failed the social test. Well it is'nt a problem of mine . Maybe that's way she backs away. She knows that am a higher rank. 

The elevator finally come and I go inside the glass elevator. The woman follows after me . The ride down was slow but we finally reach ground level. I left the apartment building , walking to the bus stop to catch the bus to Central which is where the building I work at is at. I reach the bus stop and I start to wait for the  bus. Like any normal human. Except, I hear music and my hand is warm.Who is holding  my hand ? I don't have many friends and they ride different busses so who?