Breaking The Ban

Chapter One

The smell of bacon and eggs is what I’ve woken up to for the past eight years. It brings me back to the dorm rooms I had back when I first started working when I was 10. I remember my first day of work, waking up early and then going to the kitchen to see all of the machines working together to prepare the first meal of the day: two strips of bacon, an egg, a piece of toast, and a cup of coffee. The kitchen’s time is set depending on the person’s work schedule, and when the proper meals should be served, and what times a person is home. The government sets them for you.

Mine’s set for 7:00 A.M. sharp. I shower while it cooks, which is also set to turn on and off at a certain time, I’ve gotten used to 15 minute showers over the years. Then I dress myself with the clothes my closet has picked out for me. The same uniform every day: navy blue shirt and khaki pants, dark socks and dark shoes. My name’s sewn in the fabric on the upper right with my identity number below it.

Scarlett McEncroe

4-12-52-56

I eat my breakfast, and then head to work at 8:00 A.M., leaving my plate on the table since the built-in cleaning system will take care of it. This life is so easy; all I have to worry about is my job, which is simple. I just stand on the side of an assembly line and make sure the kitchen machines are being produced properly. I and a few others are in charge of this, we’re the ones that are to blame if anything leaves this building unfinished or has faults. We rarely find faults though. Maybe once every 5,000 machines that passes us.

Occasionally, we make small talk. Things like, “It’s nice outside.” Unless I’m speaking to Summer. She’s the only one I’ve ever held a conversation with, an illegal conversation, talking about personal things was punishable. It’s labeled unprofessional and anyone caught doing it is charged a fine. The people that work around us know that we talk (Summer initiates every conversation) but they’d rather not get involved.

At about 12:30 P.M. the lunch bell rings and everyone files through the door that leads to the cafeteria: single-file, completely silent. We stand in a long hallway until we reach the machines and dial in our lunch orders, then trail to the very end of the large room and receive our meal. Seats are individual and we all sit and eat in silence. The only thing I hear are wrappers being open, people situating themselves in their seats to get comfortable, sometimes a cough from someone that swallowed too much at one time. At 1:15 P.M. the bell rings again signaling everyone who’s still eating that they need to leave the premises now so it can be cleaned.

We all arrange ourselves, single-file out the large door and station ourselves back at our work areas. Then we stand and do our duties until it’s time for us to go home, which is at 6:00 P.M. I get home around 6:30 P.M. and eat my prepared supper, watch a little T.V. then go to bed when it turns off at 9:00 P.M. My pajamas are laid out for me, cotton button down shirt and pants; I have a different color for everyday of the week. That’s about the only thing that changes in my life day by day.

When I wake up in the morning it starts all over again. The smell of breakfast, shower, dress, eat, work, eat, work, go home, eat, T.V., then sleep. My schedule has been like this since I was 14 years old. I’ve worked since I was 10 but wasn’t permitted to live on my own until I was 14, when all the necessary school work is out of the way. Once a person turns 14 they’re a legal adult.

At work I do consider Summer a sort of close acquaintance, she’s always getting herself into some sort of trouble though and for some reason trusts me with it all. I answer her questions with as little information as possible. When I first met her when I was 10, I found she worked at the same line as I do, and I could tell from the start she was a trouble maker. Someone I didn’t want anything to do with. Yet, I’m still drawn to her free-thinking for some reason.