Keeping Time

Things are a little better now.

They've given us bottles for our drinking water. Using our hands as cups never really quenched our thirsts, so we weren't digging enough. W7 says, They gave us bottles because They need us to work faster. I say, maybe it's because They have compassion for us after all.

Of course, I'd never really say that out loud.

I could never say thank you. You get burned for speaking out of turn. If you're not asked anything, don't say anything. M13 and several others have learned the hard way. He was burned for saying his shovel broke. He didn't have to say anything. They see everything. So They know.

They don't out right kill us anymore. Our numbers are too low now. They need us.

At sundown, we rest, eat, and talk. Mostly we whisper. W7 has to remind me to whisper. I want to scream, "I love you, Mom!", so loudly. I know better, though, so I just whisper it. We often talk about how our lives could change if either one of us dug up something They could use as a main display. I know She'd tag me, and I'd tag her.

We dig every day. I hear Them talking about how nicely things are coming along. I'd love to see it once it's complete. I know the chances of that are close to none. Still, I'm hopeful. To see what I've found, what we've all found on display in a beautiful building would be bittersweet. Bitter because I'm a lesser than and work as a slave. Sweet because I'm uncovering history. When I'm digging, I imagine what life was like for those people here before us. They left behind so many things. W39 once found some footwear with three stripes on each side, well only one, if she finds it's match she gets picked.

To live like Them, for now, is just a dream.

To sleep in a bed, to eat off a table, and bathe in a tub, are a few of the many privileges reserved only for Them. Creating life is only for Them. We're all sterile. All of us.

There's whispers among the groups, that once you find something of value, They let you live among Them for just a few years. Then you come back to being a lesser than. Or that getting picked really means They kill you. I've never seen anyone leave and come back. I'm not sure of anyone being picked and killed either. Everything's uncertain but if I had the choice I'd take my chances with being picked. All I know is that if I get picked, I'm choosing W7 as my tag. If They really like your find you get to choose anyone you want to take with you. You get to go back home.

When it's dark, I let my mind think. You have to turn your mind off when you're digging. Too much thinking slows you down.

I remember when They took us. It was night when They came. My Mom, my brother and I were sleeping. Dad woke us up with his screaming. "GET OUT, PLEASE LEAVE US BE!" Before I could focus my eyes good, They were snatching me out of bed. My Dad was still yelling, pleading for Them to take only him and leave us. Mom and I were put in one truck. While Dad and brother were put in another. I haven't seen them since then. I hope they are well.

They stripped time from us so we no longer know what day it is. All we know is light and dark. Some of us tried to keep count for a while. So much time has passed, though. We're so busy, so hungry, and so tired. In a strange way, we're also content. We dig. This is life for us.

I remember when we were all separated. Men with men. Women with women. They didn't want us mixing. They knew it would be a problem. Any reproduction among us would slow down our work. Everything is about work. It's so important to Them. Anyway, They fixed that. Now we live together, men and women. Only separated by duties.

Some groups dig and some groups clean.

What we find gets picked up and taken to other groups for cleaning. I don't know what happens after that. There may be more groups that do other things.

It wasn't always this way. We were good people. Proud people. They let us be that for a while. We grew our own food. While They created Theirs. In 10 seconds, a meat steak could be made. Out of nowhere. Just press steak, press rare, medium, or well done, then press start. You didn't need to put anything in this machine to get something out of it. Whatever you wanted would just appear at the touch of a button.

Mom told us stories. We had no idea of such things.

She would make the most delicious jams and word spread quick through our community. So she would pass out jars to neighbors for special occasions. Word eventually was spread to Them. A very fine lady would pay my Mom to deliver the special jams to her. She'd praise my Mom for how amazing they tasted. Often complaining about the jams she'd make for herself using the machine. Mom said she once offered to show the lady how to make the jam, so she would never be without it. She turned her down, stating she didn't have time to do such tedious cooking. Mom would laugh to us and say, "It's really simple, all you need to do is boil fresh fruit together with natural sweetener. Nothing hard about it!" She'd also shake her head and say, "Those machines are going to ruin Them."

Ugh, what I wouldn't give for some of that jam right now! I'd talk out of turn so loudly right now and risk a burn for it!

We've been here so long, on this planet called Earth. I miss Novus, but if They ever set us free here, we could make this place really feel like home. Get back to growing our foods again. Build up a nice community.

We were told a sickness wiped out all the people that were here before. A few survivors escaped and started over on Planet Novus. I imagine Earth had some nice communities full of loving people at some point.

They took us in the night and brought us here. Being forced to leave Novus was terrifying. I imagine finding Novus and settling there was equally terrifying for the original settlers that fled Earth. I feel for them. I imagine they were good people. Probably scared of starting a new world for themselves. They did it though and I'm proud of them.

If I know one thing, it's that, things change. No matter how long it takes, things will change. We never dreamt we'd be here. Novus was home. Our communities were safe. Life was simple and meaningful. We worked the land respectfully and in turn were rewarded with nourishment and materials for building. We valued life. All lives. Animals weren't ours to kill and eat. We worked alongside them. Novus' founders knew what caused the sickness on Earth.

They knew that change was necessary to ensure the people of Novus would survive.

The Founders were so busy trying to rebuild their lives. They set no time aside for governing. Everyone was given the chance to be trustworthy, as there was an unwritten code of ethics.

Again, things change. A small group of outcasts would meet and discuss overthrowing the Founders. Eventually, Their numbers grew, and They did just that. They began to create technology, and strip Novus of its resources. Animals became food again like they were on Earth.

For a long while, though, we were still able to live peacefully as the Founders intended. Then, I suppose the outcasts got bored with Their riches and technologies. So, They burned out our communities and sent us here to dig.

So many treasures have been found already.

I wonder when They will be satisfied? I wonder how big this museum (as They call it) will be? Thousands of things left behind by Earth's people are being sent to Novus to go on display. I must say, it's a wonderful idea. Even if I have to suffer to find those things.

How are They sending all these things to Novus? What will They do with us when this is over? When will this be over?

Thinking so many thoughts usually puts me to sleep. Yet, I was restless all night. Like I was the first night we spent here.

I'm up before the sun. W7 rose just a bit after. She smiles and whispers, "Good morning, Chippy! Today will be good."

I'm stunned. W7 hasn't said anything cheerful since we left Novus. In all this time, She really only spoke to calm me or correct me. Her calling me Chippy, my nickname, instead of G8 seemed like a dream. I can't believe it.

What does she know? How will today be any better than yesterday or the last few years? It feels like years, but I can't be sure.

Seems like time stopped today. I couldn't wait for night fall to ask W7 what she meant. When digging was done, I hurried to her. She must have seen the curiosity in my big, wide eyes. Stopping me before I got a word out, she quickly said, "Shhh, I have a surprise for you later! But be calm, Dear, or They will zoom in on us."

As we lay side by side, W7 whispers, "Happy Birthday, Chippy!" She slides her hand under mine, then gently pulls her hand back. I can feel something under my hand. I pick it up. Then slowly roll over on my stomach. Opening my fist even slower, I see a rusty silver heart locket.

"I've still been keeping time," she says. "You turned 16 today. They will call you W8 now."