Back When the Lights Shined

Chapter Two

I head to the breakfast hall next. The hall is crowded, as usual. Luckily, there are no lines to wait in like there are in the other city-states. Everyone takes a seat according to their names. I take my regular spot in the corner of the fourth floor next to Jaydon. We have a little round table with only two seats next to the window. I prefer to sit away from the crowd, including my family. Years ago, Jaydon and I decided to sit away from the family tables and sit at the small round table nearby. We ended up linking it there, so we stayed. Now, we have much more private conversations that we prefer our parents not to hear.

            We wait patiently for a AntiMarx, a city Abbralin serving their time through slavery, to serve us. The AntiMarx wears a grey jumpsuit with vertical pin stripes and black sneakers. They aren’t supposed to talk to anyone, but occasionally they will, but only to answer small questions.

            “Any idea what we’re having for breakfast today,” I ask Jaydon as I sit down. For the past week, we’ve been served nothing but fruit salad for breakfast, which I’ve grown tired of. I’m in the mood for possibly some whole wheat pancakes instead.

            “Make a guess,” he replies, sarcastically. He doesn’t have to answer, really. We both know it must be fruit salad, again. I don’t even have time to make the guess, because  here comes now the chain-bound AntiMarx is now approaching us. It’s an older male, Marx, which is rare. Usually, the AntiMarxes are young people who got into very minor trouble, like staying out past midnight. This one is at least in his sixties, and is surprisingly thin. His skin is wrinkly and dark. He walks very slowly and looks awfully tiresome. I wonder why he would still be in slavery. A man of his age couldn’t have done something too bad. I suppose, though, anyone can accomplish staying out late.

            The AntiMarx sets down our bowls in front of us, proving I’m right. The bowl of fruits is filled with the usual mixture. The taste of the everyday meal has become routine and bland to me. I seem to have lost my appetite, but around here, that is no excuse for not eating.

            “Joy,” I say, even more sarcastic than Jaydon was.

            I pick at the bowl for a few seconds, contemplating trying to skip breakfast completely. Of course, I would never get away with it. The government, concerned about our health, requires everyone to eat no more and no less than what we are served. There are loopholes for almost everything, but not in mealtimes.

            I push the blueberries to the side, not particularly interested in eating them at all. First, I eat the strawberries, the ones I can manage to tolerate the most out of the group. I randomly pick at the rest, until the blueberries are all I have left. I glance around the room, making sure no one is looking in our direction. Then, I discretely dump the remaining berries into Jaydon’s bowl.

            I guess there are some loopholes in mealtimes.

            “Careful, wouldn’t want the CTs to catch you,” Jaydon jokes. I smirk, checking the room for onlookers once more. Of course, no one is paying any attention to our tiny table. There are plenty others that the CTs would be worrying about, such as the citizens diagnosed with anorexia and bulimia.

            “Did you get into Caretaker training,” I ask excitedly. Jaydon swallows a spoonful of berries.

            “Last activity of the day,” he says, nodding.

            “Mine too,” I exclaim, grabbing his sweatshirt sleeve. He laughs at my excitement. Suddenly, my face falls and I become more aware of everything. We’re going into CT training. The toughest thing anyone could possibly be asked to do is what we are expected to be in the process of accomplishing. Neither of us is prepared for this at all.