In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER FIVE

They ran up the stairwell, up to the very top of the building, to the twelfth floor. They were met by a dark metal door and a glowing red keypad. Matthew punched in his apartment code, 0504, and with the green light and the beep, he tugged on the handle with all of his weight. They were rushed with night air, hot and starkly dry against Matthew's skin. He coughed, stepping out onto the rooftop. Matthew squinted to adjust to the darkness, and Olive bumped into his side, her shoulder colliding with his arm.

They didn't come up here often -- it was usually swarming with pigeons, and the ground was flocked with white splatter. Matthew scrunched up his nose in disgust, taking methodical steps across the building towards the edge. Olive's footfall came light and hurried behind him, her sneakers scratched against the concrete.

He reached the edge and gripped the wall with both hands to stabilize himself. Looking out, up into the open sky, he couldn't see a single star. Stars weren't visible from Sector 18, and especially not now with the smoke from the sectors just south up in flames. They were never there, but for some reason, Matthew was struck with the strangest pang of disappointment, like he expected them to be there. When they weren't, it saddened him.

Just barely, way beyond, in the direction of C Block, Matthew could see where the dark blue world edged off into a fierce, angry orange. Sector 20 wasn't far off, and he could see where the night turned into black and red, where the world was burning. The whole thing turned his stomach, remembering that this was the fate in store for his home and that maybe, it wasn't all that far off.

"Matthew, look," Olive spoke from his side, the breath completely lost from her voice. He hadn't seen her join him -- he hadn't realized he was looking down at the street below, nearly empty, save for the few strays rushing home. Matthew's heart lurched as he leaned over the edge, getting a sudden rush of vertigo straight to his head.

Olive was still at his side, her hand barely tugging on his sleeve.

Matthew turned his nose upward, slowly, almost afraid of what he would see. His eyes met the darkness, and then the spot in question.

There were billboards all over the sector, big wooden things on top of apartments and across Main Street. None were electronic like the ones in the First Five. They became more noticeable and frequent with the first advertisements for Bots, years back. Most of them still sported the now age-old images of those sleek white machines doing human things -- sitting on benches, walking dogs, other domestic pastimes. Everyone knew the truth about Bots and their nature, and it just served as a smack in the face that even all the way in Sector 18, Sector 1 had them all under their eternal thumb. The billboards were just a charming reminder.

This billboard, the one Matthew had become accustomed to over the past five years, used to have the familiar image of a Bot at the train station, the one alongside the Sector 18 checkpoint. It was standing alongside it's human counterparts, hands folded across its chest, a stoic look spread on its face. The tag line was Here for you. Matthew knew it like the back of his hand -- yet now that it had disappeared, he almost couldn't remember it.

His eyes were confronted with a novel image. Sharp on the edges, barely a few hours old. This one wasn't faded by the sun, or worn by the weather. It was dark, freshly printed, almost pretty to look at.

The novelty of the thing made Matthew's breath catch in his throat. He took a deep breath inward in an attempt to focus, but his racing heart was making it increasingly difficult.

GO BLUE

Next to the letters, big and bolded, stood a family, cut off at the shoulders. A father, a mother, and a boy, all smiling and holding each other, poised for a family photo -- all squeaky clean and unassuming. It was enviably normal and comically unrealistic for the likes of Sector 18, but nonetheless, it was an attempt at striking a chord of familiarity.

It would have, too, if it weren't for the three blue lights across each of their foreheads, now glowing in the darkness.

"What the hell is that?" Olive asked aloud, after a few minutes of silence between them.

"I don't know," Matthew said. He stared into the face of the little boy on the poster, smiling amiably, absentmindedly. He was front and center, his dimpled grin causing something to stir deep inside Matthew's chest. He had to look away, back down into the street again, before he felt it all too much.

"A new Bot generation. What a waste," Olive hissed, her voice dropping at the last word when she saw Matthew's pained expression. He had started to crumple, turning his back to the ledge and pulling his hands around either side of his stomach. He was feeling a pain that he couldn't describe. It felt like needles were pressing into his chest from all sides, and he quickly became too dizzy to stand. Olive ducked to his side.
"Matthew, are you alright?" She spoke frantically, bringing one arm around his shoulders and trying to steady him. The pair sunk onto the floor of the terrace just as the alarm started to blare out in the street -- shrill and piercing. Three minutes till curfew.

Matthew tried to center himself, tried to focus on something. Anything.

He thought about his father's letter, and the pain in his chest surged outward. He knew that something bad was happening, but in trying to organize his thoughts he started to fade away...