Death in Black

£15,000 in debt and yet Hassan was sure that he was still not finished calculating everything.

He thought he was on top of things but clearly not. Sitting calmly in a strange yet familiar cafe, he thought to himself that he needed something big, or at least something more consistent than the usual job he gets.

“Boss can I get tea with condensed milk” he asked the waiter. The waiter nodded at Hassan and went back to the conversation he was having. Hassan knew what that meant so he sat back on his chair and prepared himself for the long wait. The cafe was Ethiopian and being from the same background and the cafe near his home being Somali, he knew the routine. Everything moves at a snail’s pace which Hassan did not mind especially today.

He picked up his phone from the table and reread the message that Cam set sent him over three hours ago - ‘Meet me outside the Ergal Café on Brunswick road’.

Hassan stared at the green, yellow, and red flag; painting of camels and the pictures of Addis Ababa, he could almost feel the sand beneath his feet. With the smell of spices emanating from the tea of the old men sat across from him, he thought he could feel his toes digging into the sands. For a moment he was home until a group of young boys jumped and shouted in jubilation at the robots fighting on the TV. The moment was gone.

Hassan grabbed his phone and book and went outside. It had been raining for almost a week. The drains were overflowing, and the traffic stretched as far as the eyes could see. Only a few solar blimps were out on a night like this of course but the hydrogen engines should be enough to last. Fortunately for Hassan, the bad weather meant there were few surveillance drones tonight. For a working class and multi-racial area like this, drones were as common as traffic lights, but the heavens had opened and there was money to be made.

Hassan noticed a man in bright yellow trousers walking towards him. His big red boots shining through the puddles of water the strange man ran across. “Hey I made it, said Cam cheerfully. His wide smile and yellow teeth gleaming in the pouring rain. A new customer. He was early, annoyingly so for Hassan’s liking but it would mean he had more time to enjoy the show later on.

The men made their way down the alley towards an abandoned gymnasium. Inside the empty swimming pool stood eight barrels containing pure crude oil. Cam jumped down to inspect the barrels and began jumping for joy. Hassan began shaking his head but couldn’t hide his amusement in Cam’s childlike demeanour.

Hassan was use to dealing with rich folks like Cam but usually they’d be pressed to complete the transaction as quickly as possible. Being outside the dome was bad enough but walking in a neighbourhood like this was too much for some them, usually. However Cam was not the usual customer but he certainly wasn't unique. Some rich folks like the idea of stepping out the green zone and taking in the dirty air. A nice adventure to give them some amusement. A little danger to tell their friends. Hassan had seen guys like Cam before but then at least he didn’t feel angry with himself dealing with Cam as he usually does with others.

“satisfied yet,” called out a tired Hassan, standing on the edge of the pool.

Later that day the Hassan took his truck to the border where he would meet Cam by the checkpoint. Getting past the guards wasn’t really a problem since he knew them well but making sure he had the right documents and not looking too suspicious was important since he didn’t want them to lose their jobs. Hassan got out of the truck, shook hands with two of the guards and waited inside the tent where there were another guard lying on the floor asleep.

The two guards outside began checking the truck or at least gave the impression of doing so. First there was Abdul, a man who swears he is reincarnation of 18th century seamen. Why? Nobody knew really. He had the voice of an eight-year-old and was built like one too. Though he made the others laugh, his endless rants about the size of the uniforms got a little tedious. Next was Mr Luke Herald, a man who was surely kicked in the head to many times for what else could explain his constant need to talk about his fondness for mimes. You would find him practicing his routine during his breaks to the amusement of everyone.

They came inside the tent and both nodded to Hassan as if to say ‘we did our part’. The other guard, who was sleeping, was known as Santi. People would say he was the very epitome of there is no such thing as a lying red head. Santi was honest to a fault even to his own detriment and those near him. Hassan made sure to arrive during Santi’s nap time.

Hassan gave his document to Abdul and once all the pretense of the checks and balances had been completed, Hassan boarded his truck with the barrels of oil in tow and drove past the checkpoint.

On the other side Hassan saw Cam waiving frantically. This was a surprise as customers don’t’ usually meet Hassan outside the dome, but Cam was certainly not the usual bunch. Customers don’t usually want to run the risk of being caught with contraband, especially fossil fuels. In the age of the green revolution, this once ubiquitous, all powerful and ever-present commodity is now rare and banned.

Cam jumped in the truck and they made their way inside the dome and onto the green zone. No matter how many times he made journey each time he entered and saw the green fields, clean streets and birds flying through sky made Hassan a little emotional. He breathed in deeply and stared at the blue sky. It wasn’t real of course, simply a computer image. Even so it had been a long time since he had seen a blue sky, especially not since the war began. Now it's the eternal red sky is what differentiated between night and day.

Hassan looked at the smile on the people faces. Sure, there were people who were happy outside the dome and you could always find some joy even in the slums but it people seemed like they were almost floating. They weren’t held down by the weight of trying to survive day by day and also not having armed drones flying over your head probably helped too. Cam looked at Hassan, he could clearly identify the look of sadness on Hassan’s face.

They arrived outside an indoor race track. Cam, giddy with excitement opened the door and went inside. Hassan took the barrels out of the truck and one by one took them inside where a row of vintage cars were held.

Cam took out a pump from a locker and began filling up the cars with oil. Hassan sat on the chair and watched on as Cam drove each car for a few laps around the track. He watched the fruits of his people labour being enjoyed for something so frivolous. Of course, Cam wasn’t to know how many people died to produce and smuggle in the oil but Hassan was sure Cam knew enough. He was no different than the rest.

However, Hassan could sit quietly and judge Cam for too long as the guilt was difficult to ignore. As it was Cam may have an idea but Hassan knew every little detail and he was knowingly complicit. He sold crude oil, precious metals all the natural resources that lay under the feet of the land he once lived on. The land his people still occupy. The land where they struggle. The land where they continue to starve. For the green revolution was too late for his people and for most of the world. The thought that at least he could take the profits made and send it back home wasn’t enough to take the scowl from his face. His hands clenched and shaking, he let the frustration linger as punishment for his betrayal. He looked at the scar at the back of his hand that he got from the fight with the Green Ark guard.

He remembers the anger he felt back then. Green Ark had monopolized all the sun panels and wind turbines for the green zones all over the world. Those panels are made with precious metals only found in his homeland. Hassan remembered the pay he got from working all day in those mines.

He remembered the hundred who had suffocated. He remembered why began smuggling, the promise he made at the grave of his sister. He remembered today was the day she died. Her heart shaped locket he kept in his chest pocket. At least smuggling allowed him to make something. Anything. At least for now.