An Opaque Present

The smog was unusually dense for 4 A.M. as the factories were at minimal output during the night shift. I sucked in a deep breath anyway. The quietness was a relief to my pounding headache but this would be short-lived. I couldn’t exactly place why I had always had enjoyed these few fleeting moments of peace and unproduction this early. Nonetheless, it would soon end as the other morning Workers arose.

I took in the sight of the street lined with the neat buildings, neat shrubs, and neat fences. There were easily 400 Patrons on the mile long block, of various ages and functionality. Our street was consistently ranked in the top 5 for Efficiency and Output, however, our green initiatives were sorely behind. Street C was not on top of Their to watch list. Thankfully.

The lights of the Elderly Ward in the building adjacent flickered on. The shuffling of slow feet moved from room to room. Clinks and clanks of pans and the hum of the mega dryers consumed the air as the Elders fulfilled their duties. All the Workers in my building would file over to collect fresh laundry and breakfast rucks from the Elderly Ward at precisely 6 A.M. Although I was awake before other Workers, I was almost always last to receive my ruck.

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply again. My headache was almost gone now. As I was emerging from Child-age, They happened. I never was a Child, I was a kid. A kid knew about leisure, but leisure is a shrouded and intangible construct to me now. A Child learns how to become a perfect Patron to better society.

I mused and mused about how others probably didn’t muse anymore. If I was being productive, which I wasn’t attempting to be, it must’ve been about 15 minutes of uninterrupted musings. Then the sound happened.

It was shrill. Was it a manufactured sound? Maybe something from a television show, the kid in me surmised. No one on Street C would be permitted a television though. But I hear it again, coupled by a rustling in the bush across the street, the Children’s Ward. Then the sound happened again.

Almost instinctively, and before I knew it, I darted to find a small brown-haired child in the bush. I have never interacted with a Child before, but I held my hand over his mouth to prevent the sound again. If this Child was caught functioning as Abnormal, I shuddered to think what would happen to him. Or me.

“Where is your Keeper?” I hissed. He shrugged and smiled widely at me.

“Go inside and don’t make the sound again. Do you know what could happen to you?” He looked at me with large eyes but the smile did not fade. His eyes looked almost misty which contradicted the smile plastered on his face. His arms clung to me and I felt the coldness of metal through my thin shirt.

“What is that?” I asked with more compassion in my voice than before. Again, not a word came from him. I was beginning to think this Child might be suffering from a natural Abnormality. He wouldn’t be on Street C long if They found out.

He stared deeply into my eyes and I felt a barrier within me break. I had read that women sometimes would have favorable and kind reactions to a Child.

He held out his clasped hand. There was an ornate chain with a large token at the base. The shape of the token was something I had to pull from a very distant kid memory- a heart. This was nothing that would’ve been produced at the factory. This item was specially made, the industrial machinery was not capable of this kind of beauty.

He opened the token with his chubby fingers with a surprising amount of grace and agility. He held out the inside compartment to me that contained a picture. Of me. And this little boy. He held me closer as a sense of familiarity overcame me.

“This isn’t the first time we have met like this.” He nodded and clutched me closer, burrowing his head into my bosom.

Conflicting emotions entered me as he whispered “Don’t be angry, the whistle is soon. I will see you tomorrow, I promise”. I folded into the moment and held my child. The whistle and fresh wave of smog would erase these memories for me. He at least could hang onto these string of moments until he turned 18 before the effects would occur. Unless They found out. This was the least I could give him.