Cabare, City of Strife

Nani stirred to the cold taste of dirt. She must have shifted off her blankets in the middle of the night. Clicking her languid tongue against the roof of her mouth, she let the sediment from her floor collect against her palette, a gritty reminder of life in Cabare. Nani swallowed. A hard swallow, dry and sharp as it caught tight in her throat. A second swallow pushed the other one down and she reached her left hand out to the side, a half-hearted search and rescue attempt to find the blankets she remembered falling asleep on.

It wasn’t always this way - her Paqi’s voice echoed strong in her memory. There was a time when life looked forward to mornings, when she looked forward to waking up. Now, the pleasure of a morning had become property of those who could afford to lose credibility in the face of humanity and to those too sick to even enjoy it. Ever since the mattress mandate, commodities changed. Which meant that everything else changed along with it.

Sitting up, Nani scanned her floor for the blankets Paqi had knit for her. She remembered when the incessant clacking of needles was replaced by Paqi’s whining.

“What’ll they have me do, knit with my fingers and toes?” Paqi said one day, exasperated. Nani smirked as she recalled how that’s exactly what Paqi did. She would sit on the dirt floor in the gathering room, a pile of dyed wool in her lap, weaving her fingers back and forth in a mesmerizing way, stringing and pulling and tying. Paqi complained all day long about the new Surgeon General but never complained about her weaknesses, which made her strong in Nani’s eyes, even though it was the Surgeon General who claimed that knitting needles were too similar to a weapon to be used in “normal everyday activity” and should be banned entirely.

Nani shoved the thought aside with the corner of her mouth and stood to her feet, sighing. The announcement would be made in an hour. Tension and frustration bubbled up in her heart - she went through the same dialogue every time before an announcement. Would she watch? Ignore the news? Pretend like there was no such thing as announcements? As she made her way down the stairs, she decided: she would not watch today. In fact, after the tea was ready, she would leave.

Nani pushed her way through the crowd, hooded and resolutely, her cape fluttering at its corners. She just needed to make it through the mass of people to reach the open side of the marketplace, but the Surgeon General always made each announcement from the market central, which happened to be a block from her and Paqi’s home. Even though Paqi was gone, it would always be their home. The announcement had just been made and the usual squabbles were breaking out.

“My family has been sick longer than yours - you don’t deserve to be next in line,” one man was screaming at another. The man on the receiving end of the rant wore the newest release of Newton sneakers and undoubtedly paid his way to the top of the list. Nani knew the feeling.

Four years ago, Paqi’s age gave her a spot on “the list.” Nani could see how this placement brought her strife; Paqi, 90 years old, was caught between wanting a comfortable place to sleep every night but wouldn’t be caught dead receiving anything because of a decree from the Surgeon General.

“Who are they to determine what a 90-year-old needs,” Paqi would spit. Followed by her actually spitting, she would say, “I’ve waited this long for a mattress, they can keep me waiting.” But Nani would watch in the crack of the door as her grandmother woke in the dirt every morning, aching in pain, stabilizing herself just to get to her feet. Turning 90 finally gave her the chance to have her name written into “The Book,” but it would be up to mercy from the Surgeon General if she were to actually receive a mattress, and there wasn’t a greasier set of palms in the history of treachery. Nani watched as family after family was called during announcements, but never Paqi. If they had more money, maybe she could have done something, but Paqi would have rather died than find out that Nani gave in to the system. And so, she watched the glory of each morning get stolen from her grandmother’s eyes and replaced with the cold taste of dirt.

Nani was forging ahead, head down, keeping up with a hurried pace when she felt the warm press of another’s body. Metal met her cheek and she realized whoever she ran into was at least a foot and a half taller than her. Stumbling back, she apologized as she looked to meet the gaze of her accidental victim. Air left her lungs as she lifted her chin. There, outlined by the rays of the sun was the face of the Surgeon General.

“My sincerest apologies, “ Nani sputtered as she brought her chin to her chest. “I was not looking where I was going. I’m terribly sorry.” Even though her heart quickened, the level of apology she was offering this person made her sick to her stomach.

“There there, child,” the Surgeon General said with a voice like ice and gasoline, sliding the words out through teeth the size of white marbles. “All is forgiven.” All Nani wanted to do was yell into the Surgeon General’s face at the top of her lungs: It’s you I’ve had to forgive. You killed her. You and your slimy greedy fraud that makes you play with people’s lives like some sick game. You should be apologizing to meI Her cheeks grew red and swelled from the rage held back in her face. She dipped her chin to her chest once more and shouldered her way past the one person she had never wanted to see, the one person responsible for making her wake up in the dirt every day of her life. For passing out mattresses to those rich enough to pay for the luxury ahead of those who were old and dying and desperately deserved this small decency at the end of life. She broke into a run and her shoulder sack jostled down to her elbow. Nani snatched it by the base of the straps and continued to run until she reached the trailhead to the meadows.

It was a breaking point for her. Sobs burst through her chest as she sat on a felled tree next to Swarmis River. Her elbows created a cave for her head, surrounded by flesh and bone, she cried. She cried until hot aches ripped up her windpipe and she struggled to breathe. This was not the life she wanted. Nani leaned forward and cupped the river to her face, splashing relief into the corners of her eyes. She breathed. She was exhausted. Her bones ached. Her mouth tasted more like dirt than saliva and the thought of escaping Cabare once and for all tugged at her brain. She had to get out. Yes, it meant leaving Paqi’s home behind, but she knew that Paqi didn’t want her granddaughter living like this. She would have wanted freedom for Nani.

She sat back on the log and reached into her sack for her alkaline water and felt a smooth unfamiliar surface. A book...a notebook. Nani held the book up in the light. A black cover indented with large fingerprints stared back at her. Nani’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. “What the…” She ran her thumb over the uneven pages and opened the worn spine. Name after name filled the pages of the book - names she recognized. At the top of each page, a year and a month were scrawled in a lazy black pen. She flipped to March, 2224 and ran the tip of her pointer finger down every line until she found Paqi Sofriment written in red ink.

Nani felt like a thief and a hero all at once as she hurriedly made her way home. Her mind raced with possibility and the weight of what would happen if she were caught with the Surgeon General’s little black book. She made the final turn home and froze. Military police stood outside her front door like Sentry guarding The Federal. They knew. Nina whipped back around the corner and ducked into an alleyway. She was going to have to think fast.

The sun, low and simmering orange, greeted her as she stepped up out of the doorframe. Life was changed for good, but Nani felt a tingling of excitement as she realized true freedom was calling her name. She had heard of underground rebels before but never thought to seek them out until today. Today, when her luck had changed and the book of power had fallen right into her leather sack. The rebels didn’t believe her at first. She sought out the place she had heard whispers about and demanded an audience with someone in power. They blindfolded her, walked her to an animal cart, and transported her somewhere that smelled like cinnamon and cardamom. It was there that she met a woman with flowing hair, dressed in grey linen, who she presented the book to. It was this woman’s nod that made the rebels believe Nani’s story and they asked her what she wanted in exchange for the book. Nani thought about Paqi. About how she would say, “$20,000 and better legs and I’d have my way out of this godforsaken place.” She looked the grey woman in the eyes and said, “$20,000 dollars.”

Nani was at the edge of town now. She couldn’t go back home because it was crawling with guards. Everything had to be left behind: Paqi’s hand knit blankets, her teas, and the one picture of her and Paqi that graced the fireplace mantle. Squeezing her eyes tight, she let it all go. The wind picked up and her cape snapped at her legs - her strong legs that would carry her far away from this place. She let the wind beckon her, took one long last look at Cabare, this town of dirt and strife, and stepped into freedom.