2056

Her

We reach the city; we just pass through and head into the center. The city has holograms showcasing government personnel, I even catch sight of my mother standing with the president.
There's another long journey before we reach town hall. When we reach the heart of the sector, the neighborhoods become more frequent. Each house is a copy of the one before; each an off-white with a red roof, evenly-cut green grass and a white picket fence on the perimeter. In front of the houses, instead of a penguin, a comfortably dressed man is either reading the news on a hologram or cutting the lawn, while his wife sits sipping lemonade or picking weeds out of an immaculate garden.
Mother has a meeting in town hall about security measures, I was asked to stay seated in this uncomfortable, plastic chair. She's been in the meeting for a couple hours already, it's nearly lunch time; I approach the secretary at the front desk and ask her where the nearest restaurant is. She points me towards a little dinner down the street, says they have the best burgers in Sector Two. I leave the lobby and enter the summer heat, heading to where she pointed to.
After following her directions, I'm standing in front of a retro dinner. There's booths sitting at every window and tables with chairs in the center. A waitress leads me to a secluded booth as per my request. It's nearly empty, only on older couple beside myself and the staff.
The couple leaves after paying and it's just me looking at the menu. I've decided on a burger and a chocolate shake. I order just as my holo-phone buzzes – it's my mother.
I quickly tell the waitress to make it to-go. After getting my meal, I speed walk back to the town hall.
My mother is waiting, her heel tapping in annoyance, "where have you been? I can't be expected to worry about you while I'm working on business!"
I refrain from rolling my eyes, now she cares. "You don't have to worry; I was just exploring."
She doesn't stop herself from rolling her eyes, "grow up. Go get in the car."
Not wanting to argue, I simply get in the car.
We reach the last barrier, the one leading to Sector Three, at five in the evening. Even after eating my burger, I'm famished. Bracing myself to face her wrath, I turn to my mother, "Can we stop? Juts to grab a bite to eat?"
Surprisingly she agrees, "I don't like to stop here, but I haven't eaten since breakfast. We'll make a quick stop after my meeting."
We make it through the gate and continue through Sector Three. The asphalt covering the road is crumbling, causing the van to jump around. We drive through what looks to be the city. It's mostly abandoned with a few bars and stores with many people wondering about. Once we hit the neighborhood, the crowds thin out and the buildings get smaller. Most have empty spaces where windows should be, some doors are broken or nonexistent.
It's heartbreaking to see children with torn clothes huddled around a small fire. Pedro pulls up to a nice building, the only one still intact – town hall.
I patiently sit in the lobby, my stomach growling causing passersby to glance at me from time to time. I'm almost asleep by the time Mother steps out of the meeting room – she looks happy. I don't question it; I just want to eat.
It's a silent ride to one of the bars in the city. Walking in it smells like smoke and stale beer. There are some patrons at the bar, and a few at booths. Mother leads us to the bar, where a young man is cleaning a glass, he's not much older than myself. His hair dangles over his ears, I catch a glimpse of his clear blue eyes when he looks up at us, his once easy-going face hardens. "How can I help you ladies? Lost?" The way he speaks is almost condescending.
Before mother can respond in her political voice, I speak up, "No, we're not lost. We're here for a meal? Or can you not handle that? Shall we take our business elsewhere?"
Mother nearly chokes on her spit, "That is not how we speak to our loyal citizens," she throws him her "camera ready" smile.
Both the bartender and I roll our eyes. Ignoring my comment, he asks for our order. While he's putting in our order, Mother leaves to go to the restroom.
"You little ladies are in the wrong sector." A man with tattoos is standing next to me, a little too close, with two men standing with him. My heart races, I've never encountered things like this in Sector One. I look around the bar for help, but no one seems to be paying attention.
"Are you a gift from Sector One? Huh? A gift to make up for the way we're treated. I can take care of you." He runs a finger down my cheek. I'm at a lost for words, and this seems to piss him off.
He slams his big hand on the bar countertop, "Answer me!" Knocking a glass of beer over, spilling the contents onto my lap.
I jump and I'm pretty sure I let out a squeak. I see his hand reach for me, before I have time to react, his fingers are wrapped around the collar of my blouse and he's pulling me out of my chair.
My eyes water, but I refuse to cry so I shut my eyes and wait for it to be over. Probably not my best idea, but my brain stops working when I'm scared.
"Hey! Clark! You know the rules!" I recognize the voice of the bartender; I open my eyes to watch his approaching us. The man releases my collar, my knees turn to jelly and I collapse to the floor. Above me, the bartender shoves the man away, "No fighting in my bar! Out! Sober up before you come back."
The man opens his mouth to argue but decides against it and just leaves the bar. The bartender turns to me on the floor and offers me a hand. My legs still feel weak, but I manage to stay standing. After I'm on my feet, he still doesn't let go, instead pulls me behind the bar.
We enter a break room and he begins looking about, "What are you looking for?"
He stops and pulls something out, "Cleaning you up. You reek."
I scoff, "Gee, thanks."
He throws me a towel and a cheeky grin. It takes a few minutes till my bottom half is dry; I still smell but nothing to do about that till I get home to shower.
I've never been a fan of silence, and the bartender won't speak, so I do, "I'm Phoenix." I expect a reply, maybe his name, instead he replies with an "okay."
"That's not what you're supposed to say."
He stops what he's doing and turns to me, "I don't like you. I don't care what your name is. I don't want to get to know the spoiled, rich girl that's walked into my bar. Your shoes alone could buy this place. You've never had to work for anything, you don't know what life is like in this Sector. I helped you because you're a woman and I'm a gentleman. That's it."
I'm taken aback, at a loss for words, "I-I didn't... I'm sorr- "
He cuts me off, "Save it. Don't apologize if you don't understand what's wrong."
I sigh, he's right, "If I could change this, I would. The way the people are treated in Sector Three is unfair and frankly, inhumane. You're right, I don't understand. Everything in my life has been handed to me on a silver platter, while you've worked for it all."
"Griffin." It's barely a whisper.
"Huh?"
His laugh isn't humorous, "My name. It's Griffin."
I am about to respond, but I hear Mother calling for me, "I have to go. But it'd be nice to see you again." I give him one last kind smile and head back to the bar to Mother.
She practically screeches at me when I approach, "You smell like beer! Get in the car!" I don't bother to defend myself or explain what happened and why I smell like beer, I just do as I'm told.
We get in the car and head back home to Sector One. It isn't until I'm safely buckled in that I realize... I haven't even eaten.