The nerve of that rich girl! What did she think I was going to do, immediately pucker up and kiss her feet? No! I would never bow down to someone as, as infuriating as she was. Hurriedly brushing the tears from my eyes, I looked up towards the stage, seeing the girl that I bumped into earlier on it, giving a speech. Spitting on the ground, I turn and walk away, ignoring the looks I get from dusting the oh-so fancy clothing of the upper class with miniscule amounts of dust. A pit settled in my stomach at me leaving Juliette, one of the five Explorers. She and Mack had a short stint before breaking up, but they stayed friends. She always did tell the best stories.

As I waited for a tram that went as close to my home as possible, people murmured behind their hands of the ragged Fields boy waiting for a tram. How dare he mingled with us higher folk? The burning of tears sprung into my eyes again, but I forced them down and boarded the tram, taking a seat as far away from the doors as I possibly could. The ringing bell cut through the air, warning people of the incoming vehicle. It stopped in the “middle ring” of the Dome, where the apartments aren’t massive like those in the center, but not quite as small as those on the outer edges. Everyone still remaining on the tram got off, heading in their separate directions, but never further than the tram took them. It stopped just before the Fields, which were appropriately named.

Golden stalks of wheat stretched high into the sky, bordered between corn and rows of potatoes and carrots. They were just past a thick ring of flowers, all different colours and types. Wildflowers, yes, but also those that were picked for bouquets. The edge of the middle ring sloped abruptly, causing someone to either have to slide down to get to the Fields or climb up a steep wall to get the trams. Stalking through the paths that were usually used for Farmers to check on the plants, I spied the ring of squat homes and apartments that were grazing the Dome’s material. Some tilted forward, pushed by the Dome’s strong material. A few Farmers were sitting round a makeshift table, playing a few rounds of cards while on their break and sipping the chilled moonshine that some would make out of leftover potatoes.

“Milo!” One called, however, pronouncing it wrong.

I stepped up to the table and look at the cards laid upon it, “It’s ‘me-lo,’ not ‘my-lo,’”

“Ah, apologies, boy. So many of us a’down ‘ere, y’know?”

I made a vague sound that showed that I did, in fact, know how many there were. My brother and I had it lucky. Sighing, I bid them goodbye and continued walking to my building. The dark grey concrete seemed to suck in the light cast by the sun, darkening the path below. A man was waiting by the entrance, looking at his makeshift watch and very annoyed. He had similar dark brown eyes as I did, but his hair was that of chestnut and his skin of snow, where my hair was black as a raven’s wing and my skin a natural tan. The last differences were his muscular build and three inch height gain compared to me. Ah, well, beside that, Mack was mad. Mad Mack.

“Milo! Where were you?” His face was a clash of concern and anger.

“I didn’t want to be there.”

His face softened, the past repeating in the present over and over, “I know, Mi. I know.”

Anger, cold, black anger, bubbled up. I forced it down for later, “How did you even get here so quickly?”

“Got a ride with Cassian. His rich girl lover got him a car home.”

Making a short sound, I waited until we were in our cramped two room apartment before speaking again, “How’s Julie?”

“She’s good,” Mack deposited his waistbag on the nearest chair before sitting on his bed, “ I sent her your regards. She’s pretty excited. Thinks today is the day.”

“She thinks today is the day? It was never the day!” The anger turns my mind into a devious wasteland, focused on one thing, the outside, “For the past who knows how many years, it was never the day! We send them out there every six months and it’s still not the day!” I turned to face him, my cold anger clashing with his own hot anger, “We need to call it what it is. Population control.”

“Milo!” His shout was deafening. I swore internally, “Where did you get those thoughts?”

“Does it matter?”

“Don’t speak that out loud. Don’t go out there and say those things. I don’t care where you got them, just don’t publicize them.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I? People deserve to know the tru-”

“I don’t want you getting hurt like Mom! Or worse,” He faced me, frowning with his fists clenched.

Dropping my voice low, I spoke, “You know she’s worse than hurt. I’m not sure how it can get worse than that.”

He looked down, pain flitting across his face. Why did I say that? A sigh escaped my lips, I needed to get out. Grabbing the bag used for Market visits, I turned out and left, slamming the door so hard the door fell off its hinges. Darned decades old door, you’d really have to be careful with them or they’d do what they had just done. I placed the bag down and resolved to fix the door before leaving, adjusting and readjusting it until the hinges on the door and the hinges on the wall clicked into place. Right, that was sorted. Continuing the walk to the Market, I looked around at the Fields, spotting the orchard that encased the Market.

Sounds of shouting and bargaining reached my ears as I approached the trees, some getting angrier while others ceased with mutual satisfaction. The Market wasn’t really a Market. It was more buckets and baskets of things on the ground, covered by large pieces of cloth while the sellers shouted what they were selling. “Fresh” fruit (it was actually whatever was left from the harvests for the center), “thick” steaks (it was actually meat from a sick cow), “fine” clothing (it was actually made from coarse wool). In the center of the Market, a group of people surrounded a ring, where two muscular guys were brawling it out for a portion of the bets. One actually didn’t look much older than I was.

I looked through baskets, searching for vegetables and meats that would work. Finally, finally, I left the market, content with what I found and my bartering skills, which had gotten better. I rushed back home, not quite wanting to interact with people. My thoughts during the trip had been racing, and regret had flooded my system upon reaching the conclusion that I had hurt my brother. I had reminded myself that he was just as hurt as I was, that even he, who had raised me for the past three years, could feel the bad feelings. As I looked up, a figure with sun-tanned skin and slightly curly hair was waving at me.

Cassian Koda. My age, seventeen years old. He worked with me as a farm hand, though he was employed by a random farmer and me by my brother. He did the heavy lifting things, I worked with numbers. That led to him building muscles like Mack, while I had to deal with a lean figure that was hidden by my clothes. One more thing about him was that he was an inch taller than me, which really was infuriating, because why were all of the important men in my life taller than me? He wore a grey t-shirt and black shorts, like I was, and was in the process of running up to me. He grabbed my bag of things and began walking in the direction of my apartment.

“Cass? What are you doing?” I tried to take the bag back, but he waved his hand in a shooing motion.

“You should let your superiors do the strong jobs,” He joked.

“We’re…at the same position and age.”

Cassian shrugged, a grin plastered on his face. “Maybe. But who has more muscles, huh?”

I huffed.

“So, anyway, did you stay and watch the Ceremony?"

I clenched my jaw, “And watch those people go out to die like my mother?”

There was a tense pause. “Maybe not. Maybe, you know…they’ll come back this time,”

“They won’t,” I swallowed, “How’s it going with your rich girl lover?”

“She’s not—” Cassian changed the subject. Quickly. Served him right. “Actually, I should go. I forgot I had to water some plants before sundown.”

“Wha- but my bags? I thought you were my superior?”

“It’s probably time you gained some muscles too, Mi,” He grinned again, tossing the bag at me and causing me to scramble to catch it. I sighed.

After saying goodbye to Cassian, I entered my apartment, preparing myself for Mack. As he looked up from the door opening, I dropped the bag and hugged him. He returned the hug, accepting my apology and wiping tears from his eyes. He laughed before speaking.

“Silly. I should be the one drying tears from your eyes.”

“Don’t bet on it, old man.”

We laughed together. It’s still one of my favourite memories. The setting sun had been shining through our two windows, brightening the space with its dying rays. And as Mack cooked dinner, there was no talking, just contentment as the meat and vegetables were roasted on a pan. Mack’s homemade dishwasher rattled dangerously as it washed the few dishes that were loaded after dinner. My prized collection, a stack of books, was reached for. The scent of ink wafted through the house as we read one of our old favourites, Anne of Green Gables. It was the first book in a series, but I had yet to find the rest of them. By the time the sun was long set, we were yawning and getting ready for bed. I brushed my teeth in the shared bathroom, bidding my neighbours a good night once I had finished. Mack was already sleeping on the pull-out bed on the sofa, so I situated myself on the mattress in the corner and drifted off into sleep.

 

***

 

A noise awoke me in the dead of night. Looking around blearily, I touched the tarnish pendant that rested on my chest before getting up, rubbing my eyes and glancing out the window. It was dawn, and Mack was still sleeping. He wouldn’t be getting up for at least another hour, so I resolved to making breakfast for him. He already worked so hard, I wanted to help out a little bit. The fridge hummed, slight bits of frost escaping from the edges of the door. I shuffled some ice blocks out of the way, making a mental note to harvest some more once winter comes along. In the back of the fridge, a rectangular package wrapped in waxy brown paper was shoved into a corner. That wasn’t supposed to be there. I didn’t even know what it was.

I abandoned the eggs in favour of reaching for the package. It was tied with a thin brown string, which I promptly untied. In it was a stack of credits, amounting to thousands. Enough for months and months of food and bills that could be paid, maybe even years. On top of the stack was a note, with my name written on it. Placing the stack on the counter, I opened the note and began reading.

“Milo

You’re not supposed to be here. Put the stack back.

It’s for something important. Regarding your future. If I know you (and I do) you’d take these and start paying what’s needed. Please don’t. I need you to forget what you saw. Think of it as a graduation gift.

Mack”

Not sure what to make of it, I wrapped it back up and placed it in the fridge, my attention going back to making eggs.

What…was it for? And I had just fought him? The eggs sizzled in the pan as I made them sunny side up, just like how Mom did. I wanted to cry, the pressure of yesterday threatening to swallow me whole. Right, enough of that. I plated the eggs just as my brother woke up, rubbing his head and looking at the table. His head tilted to the side a bit and he squinted his eyes.

“Eggs?”

I nodded, placing the pan in the sink and drying my hands on the nearby rag.

He got up and took his toiletries, going to brush his teeth as I got changed for the day. By the time he came back, I was dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. He sat down and we started to eat. It started a good day. Though, if I think back, there was a thick fog outside the dome. Perhaps it was the warning to the end of my life.

 

***

 

The bag was heavy, a lot of papers today. The government had this “clean-up program,” where those in the center would give papers they didn’t want for compost down in the Fields. Sometimes, I would look at what exactly they were hiding. I sorted them into piles, saving those that I thought would be perfect for blackmail. Not legal, or even good to do, but I hated them. I wanted to see them fall as I pulled all the strings.

Hey, I was seventeen and vengeful. And grieving. You think I wasn’t gonna do something stupid?

I was in the composting building, where someone would dump the paper into the massive hole in the center, and someone else would shift the papers around. I found an isolated corner and began my sorting. By the time I got to a plain manila folder, I had a good enough stack for blackmail. As I opened the folder, I looked at the picture. It was beautiful. A land of green, rolling plains looked back at me. The sky was bluer than anything I have ever seen, and there was a bird right in the center of the sky. Was that the world from before? I flipped over the picture and, sure enough, there was a date. June 23rd. It was from the twenty-first century, but the last two numbers had been coloured over with a black marker.

There were other documents. They looked to be test numbers, there were things like air quality and water quality. On the last page, there was a report. It looked like it, at least. And as I read it, all my food from breakfast and lunch threatened to go back the way they came. There, written clear as day, was the word, “safe.” I read the sentence again. It talked about the outside air quality being okay. The soil was too acidic, but they estimated that to be okay in a year. And the water was toxic, but whoever wrote this report suggested a longer amount of time before that was safe too.

I looked at the date. It was from three years ago. So, the air was okay, and the water was just on the brink. The last paragraph contained my mother’s name.

“Explorers have been found. Successful executions: Kila Gerold. Frank Justice. Corney Ennerald. Brendan Marcus. Gerrie Herney.”

Herney. Herney? That was my mom. I had thought she abandoned us. She must’ve been so excited when she got the results. What was the last thing she saw? I read the word again. Execution. She had found the truth, and she had died for it. Why was this a secret?

The papers and the manila folder went into my bag, and the rest of the papers were dumped in the hole. My walk was full of questions, possible answers leading to more questions. My brother wasn’t home, not that it mattered, he wasn’t an Explorer. But if I had found the truth, what would happen to me through him? Would he get hurt? I thought back to our conversation from the day before. He had told me he didn’t want me to get hurt. And yet things could go terribly wrong.

At the end of all those thoughts. One was prevalent. Stuck in my head until the end of the chaos. The air was healthy. The water was drinkable. Someone could live outside the Domes.

The government was lying to us.