Chapter 2: The Strip

At the end of every cycle, they streamed the Flushing of the Sewers live on every device. I mute my devices and go to my room. I’ve made the mistake of watching the Flushing before and my conscience cannot take it, so many unfortunate, struggling, unlucky people rounded up and shoved into overcrowded Enforcer transport vehicles. Children as little as one or two spans were thrown in with random strangers and the elderly were shot, there was no room for them, they were no longer valuable to society. This time will surely be like all the others, and while those at the bottom are rounded up and sent off to the Institution or worse the Dispensary, the Elites and Sub-Elites prepare for their Cycle’s End Gala. Before his wife, Kixia, banned him from communicating with me, Zylen had told me about the Cycle’s End Gala, parts of it will be streamed after the Flushing of the Sewers, particularly the outfits and the guests of honor as they arrive at the Museum.

Zylen had told me that no credit is spared, and every cycle a different Elite family hosts the event, and if it is not up to standard, that family begins the next cycle in the Sewers. Elaborate ice sculptures and food that he’d never heard of, Glissip Tea flowed like rivers and men and women danced and swayed, ate, and drank until they couldn’t take another step. Several Elites had affairs and copulated with one another in special rooms, or they took strange drugs and hallucinated through the event. What disturbed me the most is that they had servants and breeders available for whatever sick twisted games the Elites wanted to play. I couldn’t imagine being forced to do what the Elites wanted, not even if it meant being sent to the Dispensary. I wonder if those with a C.I.I have this streamed right to them, with no way of avoiding it. But, then again, most citizens with a C.I.I. worship them and think they’ll never end up in the Sewers, if you’re there, you just need to work harder to pull you and your family out of it before the end of the cycle.

While I wait for the Flushing to be complete, I lift weights. I made makeshift dumbbells from parts I scavenged around the junkyards and totaled personal transportation crafts at the repair shop I used to work at. I head to the kitchen for some water and look at the screen in my living room, the Flushing has been completed and now they are broadcasting the red carpet outside the Museum. I pause and turn on the volume.

“This Cycle’s End Gala is being hosted by the Elite family Rovanald,” the announcer says, “in just a few ticks the President and his Advisors will be arriving, after that we will have the Parade of Elites and Sub-Elites, you don’t want to miss this!” The screen cuts to an ad for cheap respirators and I pour myself a glass of water and go back and sit on the couch. A banner appears above the screen.

Congratulations Eiona Dolgaran, you have maintained Middle-Lower Worker during this cycle. Your current worth to Avalis is 1,504.63 credits.

The banner repeats itself three times and then disappears when the screen cuts back to the Museum. It’s an aerial shot of the massive building. The Museum houses all the art that they deemed worthy of saving during the Cleansing, thousands of works of art and sculpture and books are stored in its halls, and at the end of every cycle, it acts as a gala venue. The Museum looks like a wave, rolling corners and smooth edges, it was built before the Invasion, that can be seen in the architecture, its roof reflects the little sunlight coming through the smog. There have been several additions after the Invasion and these look boring and monotonous compared to the body of the structure, as if someone had placed lumps of iron next to a polished jewel.

“Here they come,” the voice from the screen says. President Fain Woulf steps out of a large levitating limo and onto the red carpet. He’s tall with jet black hair and blue eyes that pierce the soul, strong cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose make up the rest of his tanned face. The Cycle’s End Gala is always an event with elaborate and expensive costumes. President Fain Woulf is dressed in a metallic suit, like a disco ball. Press shout at him from behind the barricade and he pays them no mind, walking straight through the Museum doors. Next is his Press Secretary, Vlain Jurturon, his suit is overly puffy, stuffed with feathers, I don’t understand his costume. The rest of the president’s advisors follow, Girno Harst, Director of the Academy, Balaast Vollin, Chief Enforcer, Dervick Fallu, Director of the Institution and Dispensary, and Versilia Knoct, Director of the Breeding Farms. After Versilia, the Rovanalds walk the red carpet, the voice announces them.

“Draxel and Farrah Rovanald,” they’re dressed in thick black cloaks, their hands in gloves with black sharp claws, when they reach the press stop, they pull their hoods up over their heads, revealing that their outfits are made from the pelts of Outerlands Wolves. Their children follow dressed as pups. Several other Elite families walk the carpet, the Wollons, the Hoxes, the Brayers, the Elite of the Elite all dressed in strange outlandish attire. The last Elite family takes my breath away and is the only reason I am watching. “Zylen and Kixia Hathfrow,” the voice announces. Ever since the Invasion, the lower class took the last name of their higher-class partner. I lean back in my chair, he moved up a class. I’m not sure how to feel, it’s been seven spans since I’d been able to talk to him, I don’t even know him anymore.

Zylen and I are two spans apart, Lykar was the oldest, he was four spans older than me. Needless to say, I was closer with Zylen, although Lykar always motivated me to do better than him, which I did. It hurt when Zylen told me Kixia had forbidden him from contacting me, it was four cycles after Lykar had been taken and two since mom disappeared into the Sewers, and now the only time I get to see my last living family member is at the end of every cycle as he walks the red carpet dressed like a moron. I snap a picture as he and Kixia stop at the press stand, I do this every cycle, so if I do ever get to see him again, I can give him hell for his costumes.

This year he and Kixia are dressed like trees, their brown suits are textured like bark, and their collars and wrists are laced with leaves. His makeup is done to look like tree bark as well. “Who designed your outfit?” A reporter shouts from behind the barricade.

Kixia steps forward. I’ve never liked her, she’s snobby and uptight, a horrible partner for Zylen. She’s changed her looks, from what I can tell her face is narrower and her nose is pointier, but that could just be my dislike for her. One thing is certain though.

“When is the baby due?” Another reporter shouts before Kixia can answer about her outfit. She smiles slyly and pulls Zylen’s arms around her, so they are both holding the small bulge in her belly.

“In six cycles,” she has an irritating voice, like she’s trying to sound younger than she is. She turns showing off her profile, sure enough she’s about three cycles along and starting to show. I can’t believe it, I am going to be an aunt to a child I will never know. I decide, even though he may not be talking to me, I will still send him a gift once I have gotten my first payment from Hox Enterprises. I still love him and still want to be a good aunt. I will have to address it from someone other than me, I don’t want Kixia throwing whatever I send away.

I am about to leave the room and open my computer screen when static takes over the feed. A modulated voice echoes through my apartment, and I see all my other screens have the same image on it.

“You are all too complacent with the current system,” the altered voice speaks softly, yet the words explode through the silence of my apartment. “You have accepted their rule as the way of life, fighting one another, okay with sending neighbors and friends to the Sewers to scrounge for survival, to be sent to the Institution or the Dispensary.” Images of nondescript buildings flash on the screen. “We are the resistance, the rising tide, the change,” images quickly race across the screen, nature, citizens laughing, fighting, bleeding, explosions. “We are the Sapphire Collaboration.” The video feed cuts to a point of view perspective of someone inside a Breeding Farm.

How the hell did they get in? I wonder. I sit back down on the couch, I’m glued to the screen. “This is where the women get sent when they’re turned away from the Academy, when they are Flushed from the Sewers,” the voice says dramatically. The inside of the Breeding Farm is disturbing, narrow stalls no more than five feet wide with clouded glass floor to ceiling doors line the space the camera is in. “Profiles and descriptions so they can be sold to the highest bidder, some are forced to breed seven to ten times a day with different Elites.” The hand activates the holographic touch screen on one of the doors, and a profile appears. In the top left corner of the screen is a picture of a woman’s face, she has deep brown eyes, a petite nose, her black hair is done in tight braids. The hand swipes on the picture showing a full profile of the woman, wide hips and full breasts. There’s text that fills up the rest of the screen.

Subject 9003G:

Age: 20 Spans

Height: 163 cm

Weight: 85 kg

Genetics: No genetic disease detected.

Breeding: Produces strong healthy offspring

Current offspring:

15 born, 25 in process.

Next available session: In two cycles.

The hand turns off the screen and races down the hall, footsteps can be heard behind the camera. I feel sick, no one should be subjected to what’s happening here. The camera stops in front of a glass window, it’s overlooking a laboratory, people in lab coats and wearing surgical masks are tending to large clear vats. The hand reaches out and taps the glass and another screen appears.

Welcome to the Nursery. Currently there are 30,000 embryos and fetuses being cared for. What would you like to do?

The camera zooms in to one of the vats that is being tended to, inside there is a fetus, probably around seven cycles, floating in a reddish fluid. “Stop!” A voice yells from somewhere off camera. There’s a gunshot, and the camera falls to the ground, labored breathing takes over my apartment and then static.

“Sorry about that,” one of the announcers says, the parade of Sub-Elites is about halfway complete and nobody at the press seems to care or notice that they had been cut out for the last fifteen minutes. “We seemed to have had some technical difficulties. As compensation, and to remind you how much our president and his advisors care for you, everyone will be receiving one thousand credits to their accounts. Now let’s get back to the action, coming up the carpet now is the Sub-Elite family Gylcone, dressed as an ancient ship.”

“I hear they used to call them Galleons,” the other announcer chimes in. The three members of the family are dressed in clothes that look like planks, two of them have masts and sails attached to their backs, and the child has the prow protruding from his chest. I stop watching and sit at the kitchen table, I switch my screen from the Cycle’s End Gala and start looking up devices needed for a baby.

It’s hard to focus, the images from the Breeding Farm are branded into my mind. I decide to stop scrolling through baby gear and check the Network. What are the masses talking about today? I scroll through the feed, it’s dominated by Elites and Upper-Middle Workers discussing, rating, and judging the outfits from the Red-Carpet Walk. Nobody is mentioning the Breeding Farm video. I can’t believe it and push the screen away as a live poll on Zylen’s and Kixia’s baby crosses my screen. It’s an interactive gambling post. Guess the correct rotation, cycle and gender and win big, there are odds for each combination. I see a bet of two hundred thousand credits added to the pot and the eighth rotation of cycle thirteen, male box goes gray, a Sub-Elite just made a bet. I watch as more combinations go gray, and the pot continues to grow. In the fine print it states the winner will be the bettor that selects all the categories correctly. The winner will receive a payout equal to the odds listed less twenty-five percent, which will go to Betspace Corp. I roll my eyes and keep scrolling the Network feed. It’s not surprising most people spend most of their time entrapped in its web, it’s tailored in real time to your interests, and with the C.I.I. the Network links directly to thoughts and feelings.

A message from Pex, one of my Academy friends, takes over my screen. Few others are going out to spend that thousand, wanna join?

I am not particularly in the mood for a celebration, and unsure how almost everyone in Avalis could care more about one thousand credits over what atrocities are being committed in the Breeding Farms. I pause and delete my response with a fake excuse of why I can’t go, and pause. I haven’t told anyone about my new job.

Sounds like fun, I’ve got some good news to celebrate! Who else is going?

Another message from Pex arrives on my screen, Friz, Nemo, Golox and Brill are going for sure and Wrezz is a maybe. I should meet them at Fixie’s, the first club, at 2100. I check the time, I have two hours to get ready. I send a quick thank you and head to my room to get changed.

As I am adding the finishing touches to my outfit, a message appears on the bathroom mirror I am using to do my makeup.

“Open message,” I say, adding a deep purple eyeshadow to my lower lid. The message opens and I see a picture of Pex and Friz, they are both medics at the hospital. Pex is wearing a form fitting emerald jumper, her auburn hair is flowing over her shoulders, her makeup matches her jumper. Friz opted for a hip hugging low cut diamond dress that accentuates her onyx skin, her black hair is pulled back in tight braids, diamonds are encrusted over her eyebrows and on her cheeks. I have the mirror send a picture of my turquoise dress, my hair is pulled up in two high ponytails.

We’re all lookin’ hot!!! Pex responds. Pictures come in from Nemo, Golox and Brill. They’re all getting ready together at Nemo’s. Nemo is in a chartreuse suit, his brown hair is spiked, Golox and Brill are in half red half white miniskirts and tops, their bleach blonde curls stopping at their shoulders. See you all soon! their message says. I see open bottles of Hristch in their picture, the shimmer amethyst liquid sitting in glasses on Nemo’s counter.

“Heyy!” Pex shouts at me, she runs over and hugs me tightly. “Long time, Eiona!” Friz was close behind Pex.

“Eiona!” her voice is hard to hear over the roar of the crowd. “So good to see you!” Pex releases me and I am hugged tightly by Friz.

“How’s it going!” I shout over the crowd, Friz lets me go and we head towards the flashing sign advertising cage dancers and cycle’s end deals on drinks, specifically buy one get one bottles of Hristch.

“Good!” Pex and Friz say in unison, we push through groups of people putting patches on their arms and escaping into their C.I.I.s.

Fixie’s was packed, it seemed as if everyone in the Downtown District was out spending their extra thousand credits. Nemo was able to get us a VIP spot on the second floor overlooking the dance floor and cage dancers. Bottles of Hristch and Locor sat in cooling tubes around the high-backed booth we had. The bass reverberated in my chest as I sit down on the bench next to Nemo and Golox.

“Hey Eiona!” They shout, clearly inebriated from their time getting ready. I set my respirator down and say hi to the others. Nemo hands me a glass of Hristch and we toast to friends and good fortune. The thick amethyst liquid burns a little on the way down, once the throat is coated the rest of the drink goes down smooth.

“How are you, Nemo?” I ask, he shows me his hand.

“Girl, Tezz got kicked to the curb, he was doing more than just investigating crimes, he was investigating men’s bedrooms!” Nemo takes a drink and looks at me, “honestly I’m looking for a distraction tonight, canceling a wedding is shitty!” We clink our glasses and take a drink.

“You’ve always deserved better,” I say, he laughs cynically.

“And why didn’t you tell me that?” The truth is, I did tell him, every time I met Tezz I had a feeling about him, but Nemo needed to find out on his own time.

Once everyone was in the booth, I made my announcement of getting the job at Hox Enterprises. Nemo and Pex ordered rounds of Vio to celebrate and in a blur, we were all down on the dance floor. The DJ was blasting high RPM dance music, the cage dancers wore little to no clothing and were painted in glow in the dark paint that changed color based on the type of light hitting them, the bars were made from neon lights which gave a strange otherworldly effect to the dancers. Drink bots walked around offering mystery shots and soon we were all on the street staggering to ClubbEX. We yelled to each other and jumbled our words as we pushed through the growing End of Cycle crowd on the Strip. The street was lit by the neon lights on the holographic signs for all the clubs on either side, the world spun as I walked towards ClubbEX, Pex and Friz were next to me and Nemo and Brill and Golox led the way. Nemo had picked up a guy at Fixie’s, as had Brill, and Golox had a woman on either arm, both enamored with her outfit. We’re closing in when an explosion knocks us to the ground, I hear screams and glass rains down around us, a piece slices my cheek and several others lacerate my bare arms. Another blast rings out from behind us and more screams, the world spins and a carefree night of celebration turns into a smoke-filled terror.

“Nemo! Brill!” I sit up and hear Pex shouting for the others, she has blood running down her face and arms, Friz is on the ground next to me, I see her chest rising and falling and she stirs and pushes herself up and joins Pex in searching for the others. I stand and steady myself, the world is spinning, the screams are deafening, I focus, I need to help them find Nemo, Brill and Golox when I hear the rhythmic stomping of feet behind us. I look and see fully armored Enforcers marching down the street, arresting everyone in sight.

“Pex, Friz,” I shout, “look!” I point at the wall of Enforcers making their way towards us, Pex and Friz stop shouting and run, I join them, we stumble and leap over debris, I have to pull Pex away from helping a man lying on his chest with blood seeping out of his skull. “We need to get out of here,” I say, looking for an exit. I look back and through the smoke I see that the Enforcers have broken up into squadrons and are canvassing the area.

“Eiona!” Pex’s scream breaks my heart and sends chills down my body, I turn and see that she and Friz have been ambushed by another group of Enforcers, this squadron coming from the other end of the Strip. “Run!” Pex shouts at me, she’s fighting to get free, and she does enough for the Enforcer coming towards me to stop and turn to help restrain her.

“I’m a medic, you goons,” Friz shouts at the three Enforcers restraining her. “Get your hands off me.”

I force myself to push away the memories and assess the situation, I can’t go backwards and I can’t go forwards. To my left is an alleyway between the buildings and I take it, I sprint towards the entrance and barrel through it, there’s a door to my right, I try it and the handle jiggles and opens. I rush inside and push the door closed behind me. The room I am in lights up when I enter, it’s a deserted storeroom, old cleaning robots sit covered in dust, no longer needed due to the self-cleaning floors. I sit with my back against the door, hoping the Enforcers don’t try it. I wait, for what feels like a very long time, before standing and walking across the room to another door. I carefully push the door open and look up and down the dark deserted hallway. I don’t know what building I am in, but I am positive that it will be searched by the Enforcers soon, I need to find a way back to my apartment. I am also feeling incredibly tired. I search for the door control panel, and after a clumsy search I find and lock both doors after setting a new access code. I sit down with my back against the door to the alley and close my eyes and drift into a fitful sleep.