Scorched Earth Policy

In one of the Factory Worker districts of Southern Calimart, the reach of the ruling company was being tested. A laborer’s house had been vandalized some time ago, but was only recently reported. The aerial photos showed crude drawings of birds and big-headed people hugging each other. The sale of chalk was prohibited to children in the lower districts, so the local authorities were ready to attach ‘Sale of Illegal Goods’ to the vandalism charge. But no self-respecting official would go near a laborer, so something more creative had to be done.

Days later Elanor, newly-appointed Supervisor, rapped on the old door. As she waited she held the letter of complaint in her coat pocket, looking around at the small gardens lining what was once a sidewalk decades ago, before the need for food drove the residents to tear it up and plant gardens with black market seeds. They placed the broken cement and sharp metal bits along the edges as makeshift walls. It was pointless, theft was inevitable and the walls couldn’t even keep out rabbits. But she couldn’t ask a resident why they bothered. Standing out in her company blues caused the streets to clear. A thick rope with bright plastic Walopec bottles as handles had been abandoned in the street. She was left as a solitary figure. A pillar of the company. Elanor waited a few more moments before hammering her fist against the door again.

Finally, the door creaked open. A small boy’s face waited in the darkness of the house, crossed with numerous rusty chains.

Elanor didn’t bother to greet him, her uniform was greeting enough. She held the letter out like pretty poetry, gloved hands poised as she read it out loud:

To the units of house Nineteen-Thirty-Eight: We have had rising concerns regarding the propaganda left on the front of your home. Your unit’s blatant disregard for the social interaction requirements coupled with this new vandalism shows your incompetence as a familial unit. This shameful behavior is unacceptable to the highest degree. It must be addressed and removed or more intense measures will be taken. The ignorance must be erased and the insult reverted immediately or The Walopec Group will be forced to terminate you.

Elanor folded the paper shut with violent movements. Her breath was short and her eyes shone with excitement as they searched the child laborer’s face. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked down. She waited long enough to catch her breath, before slapping her hand against the door, making him jump.

"When the rest of your unit comes back be sure to tell them about everything in this letter, understand? You give them this-" It was shoved through the doorway and against his chest- "and force them to read it. You can read, can’t you?”

He shook his head, still looking down as he gripped the letter. There was a small lump under the front of his shirt that caught her attention, but she dismissed it.

“Well you heard what I said. The Walopec Group is being very merciful with this warning. The next deficiency will result in termination of the head of the house, maybe even both head units." She waited a moment, searching his dark face for a glimpse of comprehension.

"You will tell them when they come back. Understand?"

The chains jangled as the door creaked slightly shut. He moved back a step before speaking at the ground between them.

"They aren't coming back."

“What?”

He remained silent. Elanor’s mouth formed half words before pressing into a hard line. In the time it took to form a proper response she felt he had won some small victory and a deep flush spread on her face as she considered what was left of her assignment.

“You’ve also been in the possession of illegal contraband.”

He looked up then. He gripped the front of his shirt as he tried to step back, tried to slam the door, but Elanor was faster. She threw herself against it, snapping the rusted locks. He screamed as he stumbled back but she grabbed him before he could run.

“Show me where you’ve hidden the contraband! You’re not cleared to possess it!”

He shook his head, gripping at his chest harder. Elanor pulled on his collar, thrusting him out the door. They both stumbled. He attempted to run away from her, both hands at his throat. She grabbed him again but was forced to lean away from the stink of him that spread out in the open air, before giving him a shake for good measure. She glanced around, flushed and angry, before shaking him again.

“Move your hands!”

“Mom gave it to me! You can’t have it! It’s mine!”

“You’re not cleared for it! Give me the chalk!”

In his surprise he loosened his grip. Elanor shook him by the collar and grabbed at the front of his shirt, popping open the first few buttons and revealing a glimpse of shining gold.

“What is this? What is this?” She yelled over and over, shaking him. He sobbed in response, pushing his hands against his ears. Elanor grabbed the gold object and tore it off his neck, holding it up against the afternoon light.

It was a simple golden locket, shaped like a heart on a thin gold chain. She gasped when she saw it shining in the sun.

“Where did you get this? Where did your mother unit get this?”

He grit his teeth and shook his head, hands still firmly against his ears.

Elanor pulled him along toward the driveway. She tried to throw him down onto a drawing but he caught himself. He crouched down in the next moment, barely avoiding her hand, before quickly wiping at an angry line with his sleeve.

“Clean that up now! You’ll be lucky if both units aren’t terminated for this! Stolen goods and vandalism! You’re disgusting!” She blurted out after missing the slap.

He didn’t answer her. Instead he hastily wiped at his chalk family, his snot and tears dripping over their crudely drawn smiles and too-large heads. Elanor stood over him in what was meant to be a menacing stance, at a loss at his sudden obedience.

With another look around she saw two women standing together on the opposite street, half-hidden in the darkness of their doorway. They were dressed in black, as was custom for their station, with their numbers stamped across the front in bold red. Elanor waited to see if they’d do anything. But they just watched her, glaring at her clean blue uniform.

When she was sure they weren’t going to move, Elanor turned back to the boy. He was making slow progress, his black shirt powdery white only at the cuffs where they slipped over his hands and provided the cleaning material. She was sent to make a statement for The Walopec Group and now she had an audience. With long strides Elanor circled him, stopping only to pull herself to full height and toss insults out at his labor, his looks, and anything else she could come up with on the spot. He seemed deaf to her, working with the slow plodding movements that were typical of the factory class.

Desperate to get a response, Elanor kicked him in the leg, nearly falling over when she did. He flinched away, but having sustained no injury, went back to his work easily. She circled him again, at a loss, before kicking a little harder. With this she was rewarded. He yelped, drawing his legs close underneath himself and stopping his work. She was seized once again with the reward of her position and with it, kicked out at him again. He flinched hard, crouching lower and tighter as she gained momentum. The others across the street began moving toward her, but their silence kept her from looking over until it was too late.

Elanor continued kicking, lost in the sensation of her heels against flesh, when she was suddenly wrenched back by her hair. She screamed and rammed her elbow back, hitting the assailant in the chest. The woman lost her grip but Elanor was suddenly surrounded. The other laborer had moved in front of her, unsure of what to do. But as soon as she saw her friend doubled over she grabbed Elanor by the throat and began squeezing. As they shoved against one another they fell, right onto the boy who had remained curled beside them. He screamed. The other woman recovered at his scream, throwing her fists down onto the other two as she screamed too. Nearby doors opened up. A few more laborers emerged into the street as the rest of the residents watched from their windows. The three women were now wrestling with each other and the boy. They grabbed him by his over-sized shirt and pulled, choking him as he tried to get away.

With a final pull the shirt was wrenched off, the buttons popped and rolled down the driveway. He desperately crawled toward the sharp metal border of the gardens, then forced himself over. He was sliced as he scrambled across it. But he easily escaped the others. They forgot him as they continued to fight, pulling at the shirt as if it were still the boy. Others ran forward too in the frenzy, throwing their fists down onto Elanor over and over, until the sounds of fist against flesh drowned out her screaming.

The boy huddled under a row of corn and against the cold metal fence, waiting, until he heard a cheery company tune. The tell-tale sign of The Walopec Group’s Customer Service Division. Blood ran in thin rivulets over his face, his arms, and his legs where the metal and fingernails had caught him. He ignored the bleeding, straining to hear over the pounding of his heart. The Walopec Group’s Customer Service Division's siren suddenly stopped.

In the wake of it the shuffle as people scrambled back into their homes and their shrieks of surprise were almost quiet. Until the shooting started. The child tucked his head down into his knees and covered the back of it, biting his lips to keep from screaming with the other laborers when the guns fired again and again. It went on for several minutes.

Pause. Screams. Fire. Screams.

Pause. Screams.

Fire.

Screams.

Finally, finally it was silent. He remained crouched until he couldn’t feel his legs, until his whole body went numb from the cold and the sun started to set.

He emerged slowly, looking for any sign of the baby blue vans. But they had left. In their wake were dozens of bodies lying out in the street. The blood pooled around them looked as black as their uniforms in the dying light. Bright yellow cones had been placed near each group, a sign for The Walopec Group’s Cleanup Division to swing by. The boy moved out to the trio of bodies piled up on the driveway of his assigned housing. Their drying blood partially obscured his chalk drawings, but he knew what the consequence would be if they weren't completely removed. He crept slowly toward the bodies, a scream caught in his throat as he waited for them to rise again, to continue beating him. But they were still. He bent over the ruined baby blue uniform, prying his locket out of a corpse’s hands. Her once neat blonde bun had been partially torn out, so that it flopped over her face. He plucked at the top of the bun, lifting it to reveal her frightened expression. The mud on his fingers dragged over her face as he closed her eyes for her, leaving black streaks not dissimilar to the holes in her uniform.

His shirt had been torn nearly in half by the other two and had to be pried free as well. He touched each face, his trembling fingers closing their eyes even as he fought not to retch onto them. He curled up for a few minutes beside them, trying to stop the hammering of his heart. But he couldn’t wait much longer. The sun would set and the curfew would begin. He bent back to his earlier work, rubbing at what remained of the chalk drawings with the blood-drenched shirt. The black of it eliminated the mother first.

And then the father.

And then himself.