Little Comforts

As I lay in my bunk in the low dim light of my withering candle, I can't help but risk taking a look at my precious treasure. The contours, the way it catches the light, the interesting shape...I always trace it with my fingers and it sparks something within me I can not quite place, something I've perhaps never known, something stored within the primitive recesses of my psyche. Hope in this God-forsaken place. If I were caught I'd be brutally reprimanded, killed even, for coveting a treasure such as this. But what it brings to me in this dying place of tortured souls is worth the risk.

It's the little things that really matter when the world has gone to hell.

The locket. I'd found it on the last dive. My brethren and I were given the task of searching for precious metals in Vancouver. The city had been completely flooded during the climate crisis of 2067, and our "job" was to dive into the city in search of electronics, metals, or other useable supplies for "The Red Rash".

The dive was like all the others. We move like machines, knowing death was a constant possibility, and that our deaths would serve no purpose. We are organisms for the RR, living and dying for its cause.

I plunged into the icy depths of Vancouver and swam down toward the buildings. I had found a shop that was still standing, and I signaled my brothers to follow me in. We gathered many supplies and stuffed them into large nets. The consequence of coming back empty-handed was death. In this way we often helped each other, the spirit of comradery was strong even in our bleak circumstances.

I searched among the floating debris and came across a sparkling, dazzling little gem. It was silver and gleaming the reflection of my flashlight back into my eyes. It hung there, suspended weightless in the water, shimmering and dancing in the light. Movement escaped me for a moment. The end of the world left me for a moment. Watching my sisters drown vanished from my memory. Every injury and injustice I had witnessed since becoming a slave to the RR ceased to exist. The romanticized symbol of the heart, connected by silver clasps to a silver chain, enticed my spirit to hopeful revelations of what could be, what should be, but what would never be.

My brothers had since floated out of the dilapidated building in search of more metals and supplies. Suddenly my sunken stomach made a noise similar to an engine whirring and dying, and hunger overtook my senses and stole them from the silver locket. I grasped it quickly and shoved it into a small separate bag. I spent the rest of the exploration contriving a way to keep it. They would search us upon re-entrance into the camp for just such a reason, and I could not tell any of my brothers of my mischief, for fear of condemning their lives as well as my own in my folly.

I decided to swallow it; if it were real silver it would not be damaged in my stomach, and other ways of smuggling precious items into the camp had all been for naught. I once saw a woman hide a ring she had found under her breast, and when they found it during the strip search she was beaten something awful. She was condemned to "The Pit", a place no one ever comes back from.

When we surfaced and climbed onto the boat with our loot, an officer organized our findings. While his back was turned I slid the locket into my mouth and swallowed hard. I feared choking, gagging, being found out, but it was small enough to pass without a sound or struggle. An intense feeling of victory overwhelmed me. This lovely precious thing was mine! They had taken everything else, but they could not have this.

Upon arrival at camp, we had the routine search done of our persons, and I passed unnoticed. My cheeky demeanor did not get past my brothers.

"Oi, what's got you so bloody happy?"

"Oh, just a good day out is all."

"Psh, save some happy for the rest of us will ya? Damn cheeky bloke,"

The banter continued out of earshot of the officers, and with a smile, I retired to my bunk with my rations for the day. The more you collect for the RR, the more they give you in rations. This being my only reward in life, I cherished this time tremendously and nestled into my bunk. At that moment the thought occurred to me, "I'm going to have to shit this out at some point,"

It took two days to pass, and with the gut-wrenching pangs of passing a small silver sharp object, I was allowed bed rest those days. My locket had won me time in my bunk, warm and safe with my little candle. I'll spare you the details of when it actually came out.

I spent those days reminiscing its glamor in the dark waters of Vancouver. The daydreams droned out the yelling of officers giving commands, of women screaming, of dogs barking, of aircraft passing over in search of new places to dig or dive...even within me causing immense amounts of pain, it was my rapturing experience in this hell of existence.