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“Oh, sorry. Excuse me.” I tried to sound sincere, even though we both knew it was her fault. After all, she walked right into me in broad daylight.
Before I could say more, she was already briskly striding away with her back to me. “Apologies,” she mumbled over her shoulder.
I shook my head in frustration. After a few steps, I started frantically checking my pockets. What did she take? Nothing. Good. Wait…
I cautiously took a foreign object out of my jacket. As I opened the woman’s envelope, I marveled at her sleight of hand.
Be at the intersection of wall segments four and five at 3 p.m. And stay off the drip.
The message was handwritten at the top of a computer printout, which confirmed that I had completed my daily feeding twenty-seven minutes ago.
Damn.
So, they had hacked the government dietary system. No small feat. And now I couldn’t get my real drip in a few minutes, because I’d be flagged for two in one day. As a professional thief, I made a habit of avoiding unnecessary government attention.
Even though I was somewhat annoyed at having my hand forced, my nagging curiosity was far more powerful. I quickly did the math, and figured that I could complete the five hour trip just before 3. They didn’t give me much time to decide, probably on purpose. Well played.
On the first train, I realized I hadn’t given much thought to the drip in years. I’d been on it my whole life, and when something is that mundane it fades into the background. Until it’s taken away.
Since food was illegal, all nutrition came from your daily feeding. There were countless urban legends about what happened if you got off, but none were verified. As soon as you hit twenty-six hours, the police would quickly find you and hook you up in their squad car while they were writing your exorbitant ticket.
So, what was I going to do? I was sure that the note’s author had a plan, but it was still quite disconcerting. Did I really trust them, or did I have no other choice?
I arrived at my destination with only eight minutes left, but professional instinct made me use every second for recon. I doubted that the woman from earlier would be visible, and I was right. In fact, I couldn’t see anyone, which wasn’t surprising. The border of the city was typically deserted.
I saw that my time was almost up, so I crossed the street and started making my way towards the wall. As I approached, the barricade towered above me. My mind was immediately flooded with the lessons drilled into us as children.
First, our city contained the last surviving humans on Earth. Second, the wall protected us from all of the external disasters that we created: environmental, nuclear, and otherwise. As a result, the border was a striking symbol of both safety and fear.
But as I reached up and touched the crack between segments, I was struck by my lack of trepidation. Not only that, but I was intrigued. What was beyond the wall? And could I go there someday? That’s when I noticed the vibrating sewer grate below me. When it gave way, I fell.
* * *
When I came to, my first impulse was to run. I wasn’t restrained to the bed, so I frantically tried to sit up. But I was too weak. Hearing my pathetic escape attempt, two people calmly walked into the room. I immediately recognized the first as the woman who ran into me that morning. I could see now that she looked about my age. The second was a middle-aged man, tall and slender.
“Hello Sylvia,” he said. “I’m Bertrand. You’ve already met Lakshmi. You’re safe here. We’re not the authorities, the opposite in fact. Welcome to the rest of the world.”
I took a moment to take in my surroundings. Judging by the light and smell, I seemed to be underground. I was connected to a basic suite of medical devices, capable but far from state of the art.
“Doesn’t look like much,” I said.
“You’re right, but it’s just the beginning.”
“What do you mean? And why am I here?”
“Despite what they want you to believe, people live outside of the wall. We’re in sewer tunnels right outside the border, but there are other cities. And they all think they’re alone. The government uses the drip to keep us inside. A combination of psychotropics and geo-location in our bloodstream make even approaching the outside world a terrifying ordeal. But it’s the first additive to leave your system-”
“Hence the twenty-six hour rule,” I said, starting to catch on. “But why me?”
“Right. There’s much more to discuss, but you need to recover from withdrawal before we’re able to move forward. For now, know that you were chosen.”
Exhaustion reclaimed my body. I laid my head back and promptly fell asleep.
* * *
When I woke up again, I saw…
Unspeakable. Beauty.
The room around me contained the same objects as before, but everything was imbued with an effervescent vibrancy that was entirely unfamiliar.
Recognizing the look in my eye, Bertrand grinned and asked, “Colors?”
“Is that what these are?”
“It’s quite a change, isn’t it? I could have warned you, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. The other way the government controls us is through a chemical that causes temporary color blindness. After all, artists start revolutions because they see the radiance that’s missing from their world.”
“What do you want me to steal?” I asked, finally realizing why I was here.
“Ah, yes. It’s not what to take, but what to give. We’ve developed a serum that counteracts the detrimental components of the drip. If you’re willing, we’d like you to break into the distribution center and mix it in. Once we free everyone from their monochromatic cages, we can truly fight back. So, will you help us?”
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