M0X13

TH3 N30N D15TR1C7 - 2042/11/2 - 9:00

Coltan Reighter Jackson-Froehlke

     The apartment was silent, Velma was asleep on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, next to the counter. Wynter was sitting up, staring at the ceiling, propping her remaining thigh on a stack of pillows. I hadn't slept even a wink, my eyes felt dry, and my eyelids were heavy. I had held onto the crumpled noodle water cup all night. I rose to my feet, wobbling a bit with exhaustion, and tossed it into a waste bin. Maybe now would be a good time to go home? Usually, I was kicked out of the lobby of the Executive Apartments, mainly for looking like another one of the teenage street rats. Children of the 'executives' were expected to dress like it. Rowan always did. I think my sister fears the authority, and more importantly, The Watch. I glanced over at Wynter and Velma. The dark-haired girl looked back at me.

     "Going somewhere, Coltan?" she asked, sounding just as tired as I felt. Velma merely stirred, still draped in waves of deep slumber, her light gray trench coat wrapped tightly around her, like a makeshift blanket, and her short ginger hair was covering most of her freckled face, like a veil. I always wondered where Velma lived, but she never told us. I nodded slowly in response to Wynter's inquiry. She scooted herself around, so she could fully face me from the futon. "Where? It's so early..." She asked, rubbing her eyes.

     "Home." I replied simply, my voice low and quiet, in attempts to not wake Velma. I was pulling my hood over my thick blonde hair when Wynter sighed.

     "Well, stay safe, you know how it is out there..." I nodded at her in acknowledgement, even though I didn't need her to tell me that. I'm fine.

     The streets outside were empty again, large puddles dappling the sidewalk. My blue Converse shoes were muddied and stained from constant usage, and my jeans were still damp from the rain. I passed the gym and Air Com, the electronic store. Two screened advertisements were standing on the street, one advertising a noodle brand, the other showed a flower, it seemed to be advertising wedding flower arrangements in some foreign language. The air smelled like rain and smoke, it always did. The sun lazily tried to shine through the thick layer of smog that shrouded the city. I pulled a dust mask over my mouth and nose, knowing that daytime was probably the worst time of day to be breathing the air by itself, the rain at night usually muddles out any pollution we can inhale.

     The scent of fresh meat flooded my nose as I slipped into the sideroad next to The Mad Butcher, Making my way to the Neon District subway. Dim lights shone from the pawn shop neighboring the small butcher shop. Electrical wires hung low, loosely slung between buildings, creating a web-like covering for the alleyway.

     I picked up my pace as I passed the pawn shop, remembering the news reports from last week. 'Two young girls found dead in the waste bins of the local pawn shop. Identified to be 13 year old Journee R. Seville, daughter of one of the city's most prized Watchmen, and 11 year old Dahlia S. White, daughter of one of our own reporters. 28 murders have occurred there. Memorial services for Journee and Dahlia to be held in Dragon's Square tomorrow evening, investigations on the case to follow promptly.' I remembered the news report clearly. Funny as it is, they never reported the other 26 murders, they were irrelevant. I didn't want to end up like Journee and Dahlia, with my organs hanging from my abdomen like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Once I reached the edge of the alleyway, I stopped running, my breaths sharp and short. I gazed at the large concrete arch that marked the entrance of the station, a white train painted on the top. There was no one entering or leaving the station. Figures. It was so early in the morning. I stepped through the green and orange queue barricades, and made my way down the escalator. I'll be home soon, Dad.

     The bright rainbow neons of the screened walls illuminated the entire platform. I pulled down my hood, squeezing some water from it. The dumb sweatshirt hadn't dried since last night. I stepped onto the empty train, sitting down on one of the dark orange seats.

     The trains in the Neon District were AI operated, so anyone can get from Neon District Station to the Amery Station at any time. The Amery Station was in the Executive District, right next to Amery International. I watched as the lights in the dark subway tunnel whizzed by. A light female voice sounded on the speaker.

     "Arriving at Amery Station in approximately 10 minutes. Thank you for your patronage."

     It was just a recording. I had heard that voice ever since I was little, when my mom and dad would take me on trips to the city with Rowan when she was a baby. Mom hasn't been in the Neon District for well over three years now. I miss her. Where is she? Dad won't tell me, but he assures me that she is safe, and healthy.

     The train came to a halt. I had arrived. The doors slid open and I left the train, making my way up the ramps to the escalators. I wonder if Dad had missed me. I stopped at a vending machine on the way out, staring at the beverages inside. I pulled out my wallet and scanned some of my E-cash into it. Wrr, thunk. A nice, cold bottle of Surreal Cola dropped down the chute. I picked up the red and pink beverage, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. I headed to the escalator.

     Pale sunlight flashed into my vision as I neared the top, the large bull statue outside of Amery International, the shimmering pool of water around it lapping at its metal hooves.

     'Welcome to the Executive District, Coltan.' I recalled the android's voice from my past, when this side of the city actually meant something, when it was a metropolis of possibility and success. My future. Now it just looked dull, but not as dull as the rest of the city. But that was all.

     I stared at the huge building that was the Executive Apartments. Home. The doors opened after sensing my presence, and I stepped into the high-ceilinged, beige and cream foyer, classical music filling my ears. I quickly headed for the elevator. The lift's doors were the color of gold, and were cleaned so well that they could be mirrors. Once I was inside, I pressed the button for the second floor.

     The elevator doors opened to Dad's apartment, the sleek, white kitchen and huge television instantly standing out. I then saw the familiar figure emerge from a study, a tall man with blonde hair.

     "Dad!"