Triggers

“Do you think this is better?

“Excuse me?

“You know, all of this. Do you think it is better than before?” The man next to me on the city bus motioned toward the luscious green scenery surrounding us out the window. "Did you see they are reconnecting the city lines?"

The man drawled on, and I escaped as far into my mind as possible. Well, did I think this was better? I could still see the room. I remember thinking that at one time the wall had been beautiful. Someone had spent weeks planning the perfect color by comparing paint chips, testing out different brands, talking over the dinner table, and probably pulling some family members along for the excruciating experience. It was a deep, viridian green. But that was slowly being eaten by something much less thought-out. A film of filth was creeping up from the ground and overtaking the wall much like a vine on the side of a brick house that was smashing through windows and overtaking anything it could get its uncontrolled grasp on.

But things were different now. And I should be dead.

I stood in that filthy green room years earlier, starving and desperate, with my reclamation group. We had been out on the streets for days, and we eventually found our way to that room. I immediately began searching the tattered cabinets. I found a looked door that seemed to lead to some sort of pantry. I turned to ask someone close for help, but it was too late. Everyone in the room had dropped dead as if at the push of a button.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was exactly what had happened.

Over-consumption had left the world desolate. We ran out of resources, and we were left fighting for every second on Earth. There were just too many people.

It started simple. Roads began to feel a bit too small; traffic was backed up a little longer than normal; restaurant quality decreased; and people couldn’t go out on the town anymore because everything was booked. It turned more severe after a while. Neighbors began fighting each other for food, and the rivers could no longer reach far enough to sustain the cities. Eventually, the threats from neighbors turned into reality. People panicked and watched the world wither away to nothing more than a filthy overrun green room in a basement.

It seemed random at first. I would go on a supply run and we would lose a few members of our party. That was to be expected given the lack of food and harsh terrain. But then it got worse. I would lose entire groups. They seemed to simply disappear. I wouldn’t be able to find them after they wandered off. No matter how many people I started with, each trip ended with me alone and confused, wandering back to nowhere.

But that time was different. Locked in that room, I saw it all. I saw them drop. And for some reason, I was left standing, surrounded by the seemingly healthy men and women decorating the floor around me.

The world has now been reborn. We almost feel normal again. Electricity is restored, the world is green and fruitful, and people now bother themselves with simple things such as a work commute or what kind of bagel to eat for breakfast.

But I shouldn’t be here. I should have died in that green room. I should have died in all the burning buildings, abandoned homes, and deserted fields.

When our leaders decided to retake the world, they installed heart triggers into every man, woman, and child. Children now receive a trigger as part of the standard procedures when born. As soon as over-consumption threatened to deplete life, they started pushing buttons.

I have a trigger. But I have a free ticket.

My crimson heart.

Shortly after I received my trigger, I found the locket. It was an oversized, gaudy heart-shaped locket with nothing inside. I didn’t know what the locket was or what it offered, but I liked the deep red and the extraordinary stone used to craft it, so I draped it around my neck. It seemed to be something beautiful among the chaos. After years of watching people around me drop dead, I finally realized I had cheated death. The stone kept my heart beating even when the government pulled my trigger.

I have watched as the world rebuilds itself using the blood of innocents. The world is now full of people working tirelessly to ignore the harsh reality and justifying the murders.

My life was taken long ago. Yet here I stand. I cheated. I kept my mouth shut, allowing others to die as I carried forward.

But if this heart locket exists, it must mean that someone believed in the value of life. But if life is so precious, then why are people being taken every day? If it is as pointless as many say, then why is it so hard for me to remove the locket?

I take this bus every day to my government-funded job, and back to my government-funded apartment full of government-funded food. I attempt to ignore the weight around my neck, but it grows heavier every day. I now have everything I need to survive, but do I deserve to? Do I want to survive in a world where my illegal life is fueled by the blood of my loved ones?

As the man next to me continued to speak of possible new roads and the extravagant meal he was planning for his loved ones, I felt myself sink further into the bus bench, desperately scraping and clawing to pull myself out of the black hole I had just dug in my mind.

My knuckles threatened to snap as my grip tightened around the heart, and I realized how fragile the simple, slim chain was around my neck.