A New Tomorrow

Zeya hobbled along Liberty Avenue, wincing every time she applied weight on her left leg. Her ankle was healing, but slowly. There was a time when she could have visited a doctor and taken simple medicines to fix it.

But there had been no doctors or medicines for the last thirty years.

She hurt her ankle often. Probably because she was so skinny. She hadn’t grown any new muscles since she was a teenager. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a photo of herself from that time. The picture showed long shiny brown hair flowing down to her hips, and deep dimples on her cheeks.

She was somebody else now. Her hair didn’t grow that long anymore, it was close-cropped now. And dimples were of no use when you had forgotten how to smile.

She carried that photo with her everywhere. It was a talisman, a symbol of strength, a reminder of how good her former life was, and a hope for what the future may hold.

She brought her fingers to her neck absently and touched the heart-shaped locket that hung there. That was a different kind of symbol. Not of the future or the past. It was the thing that kept her safe today. Its electromagnetic field fooled the detectors used by the Morvag Military and kept her hidden.

Zeya squinted and saw someone moving towards her in the distance. The sight of another human stood out starkly in the desolate road. As the figure approached closer, she saw that it was Aiobi. Her neighbor.

Aiobi walked up to her and held out a banana that she had obviously stolen. Zeya shook her head and said, “You hold on to that.”

Aiobi sat on the floor of the empty road and proceeded to peel her banana. She had not been the same after seeing her parents last week.

They had been abducted a few months ago in one of the Morvag Empire raids. Last week, they had come back with the military on another raid, running errands and entering data into a tiny computer.

They hadn’t recognized Aiobi.

Like all abductees, their memories had been wiped. Their sentience had been removed, and they had been reprogrammed to join the Morvag Hive.

It wasn’t a surprise, but seeing it in person had broken Aiobi beyond repair.

Zeya felt deep sorrow for the young girl and convinced her to go back home. Then she pulled herself together and continued on her way.

In a few minutes, she turned a corner and finally reached her destination. Rebellion Square. Tall, grey buildings towered formidably on all sides of the intersection. They once used to be bright and lively, lit with a thousand advertisements and messages. All sorts of establishments competed to secure a tiny spot in this prime location—offices, restaurants, bars, high-end stores, theatres, churches, hotels.

Now the square was filled with large mounds of trash. Ash flew in the air from recent bonfires. The buildings were covered with faded graffiti from years ago when the masses still had the will to fight back. As their numbers dwindled, so did their spirit.

These buildings had been vacant for decades. Initially, it was because there simply wasn’t enough money to keep things going.

Eventually, there was no money at all.

It had been more than twenty years since Zeya held a note or a coin in her hand. These days, she bartered her time and labor in exchange for food.

The Resistance promised to change that.

They were a group of people who still had some fight left in them. Zeya had joined less than a year ago. She was part of the Resource Team. Their role was to scan all places left standing, and procure what resources they could. Last week, her friend Amayo had found a gun in an abandoned house. It had one bullet left and caused quite a bit of excitement among The Resistance.

Before they could decide on the best strategy to employ this new resource, Amayo had used it to take his own life.

Zeya had refused to go to the funeral.

Funerals used to be a ceremony to honor the dead. That world was long gone. Now, recently-dead humans were a source of nutrition.

Zeya hadn’t descended to that level yet. But she couldn’t begrudge those who had. Survival was the only thing that mattered. And holding grudges wasn’t going to help her survive in a world where the population was less than a thousand people.

I wasn’t very close to Amayo, anyway, she told herself.

The Resistance headquarters was set up in an old office building. It still had chairs, tables, and conference rooms. It provided them with a feeling of importance. Like they were doing something that would make a difference.

When Zeya entered, she was greeted by a group of people already gathered there. Alisa nodded and smiled at her, but the smile did not extend to her eyes. It was a wonder that she could smile at all. Amayo had been her twin brother.

Alisa beckoned her close and said, “I’m making a plan on how to get a spy into Morvag. Someone who can blend in without having their memories wiped.”

“How’s that going?”

Alisa shook her head. “It feels impossible. I miss the days when we assumed that the Empire was just killing everybody.”

Zeya knew what Alisa meant. She didn’t want people to be killed, but it was certainly a simpler truth to digest.

She looked at the other reports on the desk and asked, “What happened to that new shipment of safety lockets we were expecting?”

“Delayed, as usual. There’s no telling when we’ll get them.”

Or how many more people we’ll lose, was the unspoken message they exchanged with their eyes.

Zeya resented the fact that she hadn’t gotten access to a locket sooner. It might have saved her family when they had been taken three months ago.

A dangerous flood of emotion threatened to engulf Zeya. She fought it. She couldn’t afford to let herself think about them. About a time when she still knew happiness. A time when her five-year-old’s smile made her feel alive. When the warmth of her husband’s embrace made this miserable life worth living.

Her fingers automatically went to the heart-shaped locket, cold and firm against her collarbone.

Just as she was descending into a dark train of thought, she was jerked out of it by a loud crash. Everyone jumped to their feet. They picked up knives and other tools they had amassed as weaponry. Alisa walked up to the main doorway and stood in a defensive stance, a large meat knife in each hand.

Zeya clutched her fingers around her own smaller knife. It’s just a bunch of scavengers, she hoped fervently.

The door to the office burst open and her worst fears were confirmed. It was a raid.

A small group clad in green Morvag Military uniforms marched towards them in perfect unison. They had guns, training, and a discipline that The Resistance couldn’t even dream of. A few members screamed in terror and ran.

Alisa steeled herself and lunged forward with the knife in her right hand, trying to stop their approach. One of them broke away from the formation, and aimed a gun at her head, forcing her to freeze in place.

The rest of the group marched on. Zeya wasn’t sure what they were looking for. She waited until they passed her and rushed forward to stab one of them from behind. The soldier was apparently expecting this, and he turned just in time and caught her wrist. She wrenched herself free from his grip and strode forward with both arms this time.

He was too quick and strong for her. Within seconds he had one foot on her chest, pinning her to the ground. He looked down menacingly and hissed, “I have orders not to kill you unless absolutely necessary. I suggest you don’t make it necessary.”

Zeya glared at him, pure hatred in her eyes. She looked around and saw that some of the others had tried attacking as she had, and they were all pinned to the ground. So much for all their combat training.

It looked like they were waiting for someone. In a few minutes, their leader walked in through the doors.

Zeya’s jaw dropped when she saw his face. It was Sebi. Her husband.

No. It can’t be.

As panicked thoughts started rushing in, Sebi’s eyes found hers and he started walking in her direction. He stood next to the soldier who had her pinned and said in a low, commanding voice, “Get away from my wife.”

He remembers me.

The soldier stepped away from Zeya and hastily helped her up. Zeya thought she would vomit from the waterfall of emotions coursing through her.

She looked at Sebi, speechless. So many questions, but no idea where to start.

Sebi smiled warmly and said, “Let’s talk privately.”

He led her to one of the office’s conference rooms and made himself comfortable on a chair. He reclined the back, and crossed his legs over the table, looking supremely relaxed.

She could not remember the last time she had seen Sebi relax.

He smiled at her and gestured for her to sit down. “I’m here to take you with me, Zeya.”

Zeya remained standing. “Take me where? Where have you been? How—”

Sebi laughed heartily. It was an odd sound because Zeya had not heard it for years. He stood up and held her hands in his. “I’m a military commander now. On Morvag. They’ve been so good to me, and I’ve convinced them to let you come back with me. Taisha is excited to see you again.”

At the mention of her daughter’s name, Zeya’s eyes filled with tears. Her insides ached to be with them again.

“I don’t understand... I thought they’d wipe your memories.”

“They did!” Sebi beamed at her. “But they kept our memories of you.”

Zeya frowned. “You don’t remember anything else?”

“I remember that I love you. Isn’t that enough?” Sebi pulled her close. Zeya felt goosebumps forming on her arms, but she wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear.

“But Sebi... If you’re free, then come back to me! Bring Taisha and let’s run away like we always planned!”

Sebi shook his head. “I can’t do that, love. It conflicts with my programming.”

Zeya was speechless. “You know you’ve been programmed?”

“Of course. They don’t hide important stuff like that on Morvag. Come with me, and you’ll see.”

Zeya’s head was spinning. Everything sounded ridiculous. Sebi was programmed to serve the Morvag Empire and was now persuading her to follow suit? How could she agree to give up her free will and agency? Why would he expect her to give up control of her own happiness?

Except…

“Sebi, you seem.. happy.”

Sebi smiled. “There’s nothing for me to be unhappy about.”

Zeya couldn’t breathe. She walked out of the conference room and went back to where her friends were tied up. Many of them now had bruises and cuts.

She walked up to Alisa, who was sporting a bloody lip. She nodded encouragingly to Zeya and said, “I’ll help you figure out what’s going on. We’ll save Sebi.”

Sebi was standing by the door, waiting expectantly for Zeya to join him. Zeya glanced at him and then turned back to look at Alisa—she was exhausted, unhealthy, and ragged. Her eyes were void of life or emotion.

Zeya knelt beside her and whispered, “Why do you still fight? After losing Amayo, what are you still fighting for?”

Alisa stared at her long and hard and finally turned her gaze away without answering. She didn’t have an answer.

Zeya removed the heart-shaped locket from her neck and pressed it into Alisa’s hand. Then she walked towards Sebi and followed him out the door.