She sat on the gray, steel bench, waiting. It started to rain. Fat drops landed on her head, the broken bus shelter doing nothing to shield her from the rain. It had a dirty greenish-gray hue and it smelled of decay. Nothing was clean, not even the water they drank. No one talked. She shivered as the frosty December air blew through the holes in her worn gray jumpsuit. She wished the bus would come soon. She turned her head away in disgust, to avoid seeing two rats fighting over a rotten piece of bread. Her head started to pound from the sound of rat claws dragging across the trash covered pavement -- a screeching sound like nails being slowly dragged across a chalkboard. Her body ached from sitting on the hard steel bench. She hugged herself, chilled to the bone from the cold and persistent rain mixed with sleet. 

She stared at her greenish gray shoes, careful not to look at anything that reminded her of where she was. The houses around her low, gray, and piled up on each other, some without roofs, like animal cages. This was the human part of town, the east side. The people inside bony, angular, their eyes empty. A life of work and pain had aged them prematurely. They looked like mere empty shells. They had long given up hope, but she hadn’t. She was different. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and a hunger for life. The others longingly awaited their actual demise, wondering when finally they would be taken out of their misery. She wanted nothing more than to live.

A sudden streak of clean across the road and a blast of warm air caused everyone to stir. The bus was here. She quickly stood up and took her hands out of her pockets. They were rough and calloused from sorting all the old electronic parts, spare tires, and used nutrient satchels. She held her hand up to the sensor in front of the bus doors. The monitor flashed for a second and then her hand print was read.

A cool, mechanical voice came from the bus, “Material sorter number 21, please board the bus. Your nutrient satchel will be delivered to you at 12:00 PM and the return bus will pick you up for your energy boost. The bus will pick you up at 12:30 and transport you back to the facility. Your work goal today is to sort 10 barrels. The final return bus will pick you up at 7:00 PM”.

The disposal facility was a low, gray, unassuming building from the outside. On the inside, it was a gigantic maze of silver pipes, chutes, and conveyor belts that were more than a mile beneath the ground. She stepped into chute number 21 and was instantly transported to her sorting station. The ten blue barrels of trash were already waiting for her, neatly stacked on the pristine floor. She stepped into her booth and opened the first barrel. Inside was the regular trash, the sharp electronic parts, the heavy tires, bits of metal, spare wire, plastic, and the rubbery dark brown nutrient satchels. In front of her were 6 glass chutes. They read: robotic parts, nutrient satchels, metal recycle, plastic recycle, wire recycle, and the last chute that read the paper. Unlike the other workers, she knew what paper meant, but she managed to hide it well over time. The supervisor had told them that if they found something out of the ordinary, they were to immediately report to the platforms supervisor, and then upon its approval, throw the substance into the paper chute. She worked quickly, sorting the materials into the appropriate chute. Just as she was about to open the third barrel, an announcement came on.

    The voice from the bus said, “ Attention material sorter 21, your platform supervisor is here to check your sorting quality. You will be measured by your speed and your accuracy. Good luck”.

    As soon as the announcement ended, the platform supervisor stepped into her station. It was made of steel coated in an iridescent green with a smooth human face; it looked like an eerie cross between a human and a fly. It barely looked at her and swiftly moved across the station, checking the many monitors and chutes.

    “Material sorter 21, according to the data, your accuracy and speed seem to be good. We have not found anything displeasing,” it said in a pleasant monotone voice .

She let out a sigh, relieved that she had passed the test, well aware of the dire consequences of failing. Failing meant that you were no longer needed, a sure ticket to execution under the orders of the dictator.   

Hearing her sigh, the supervisor looked back at her, “Yet”  it said, staring at her threateningly with its lifeless black eyes.

Then the supervisor turned away and left the station briskly. What had he meant? The words of the supervisor repeated itself in her mind growing ever louder. Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet. The sound of footsteps drew her out of her thoughts, a task robot was coming towards her. It was smaller than the supervisor, and was coated with white paint, but it was still a good 5 inches taller than her.

“Hey, 21,” it said, dauntingly, “Don’t you have any work to do?”.

“Yes, yes of course! I’ll get right to it!” she said quickly.

“Well, work faster, the dictator isn’t keeping you alive for nothing!” it said staring at her with those same lifeless eyes. Then, like the supervisor, it turned to go to the next station.

She was opening her fifth barrel of trash just as another announcement came on.

    “Material sorter 21, your nutrient satchel is now delivered,” said a voice over the speaker. 

    Then a brown rubbery pouch with a clear plastic straw came down the glass chute labeled nutrients. She picked it up and decided to get one more barrel done before her energy break. The fifth barrel was all electronic parts. She began to throw the parts into the glass chute labeled electronic parts. The chute began to whirr and then, with a loud sucking noise, it transported the trash to the docs, where it would be shipped away. As she was about to throw the barrel away she noticed something sticking to the bottom. She looked inside. At the bottom, there was a crinkly yellow paper in a bundle with black words and pictures printed on it. The paper made a crinkling noise and ripped a little at the edges as she picked it up. She had forgotten how fragile paper was. Her mind began to fill with millions of questions and the world around her began to swim with them. The questions jumping out of her head and engulfing her. The world looked like someone had poured a giant glass of milk on it, a muted blur of colors, sloshing around, threatening to drown her. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, she had a chance at getting more reading material.  She peeled it from the bottom of the barrel and quickly looked around making sure no one was near. What should she do?

    Grandma

Soft, emerald green grass

Budding flowers

A light spring breeze

Warm sunlight

A book

Grandma’s soft voice, reading

    An announcement pulled her out of her thoughts, “All material sorters report to the return bus.”

She acted quickly, tearing along the dotted line of the nutrient satchel and then spilling all of the food into the garbage chute. Her stomach rumbled as the soupy substance poured out of the bag making a gurgling sound. She folded up the newspaper and stuffed it into the satchel. Then, she resealed the bag and walked out of her station to catch the bus. She swallowed, tasting the fear in her mouth. She tried to paste a calm look on her face but she began to sweat and she was holding the satchel so tightly that her knuckles became white. Every time anyone looked at her, she was sure they knew. She collapsed into the metal seat of the bus exhausted. What had she done?

She looked over her shoulder as she got off the bus, no one was following her. She walked home just a bit faster than usual. The squalor of her shared room felt warm and welcoming. The curtains were drawn around the bunks . In order to ensure individual privacy, piles of tires, rugs, and bottles were piled up in waist-high columns, separating the bunks. The tiles on the floor were loose, some missing, one of the windows was cracked another broken -- shards of glass on the floor. She moved aside the curtain she sewed together out of nutrient satchels and slid into her bunk. She took out the newspaper and gently ran her fingers across the smooth pages. She hadn't held one of these in her hands for a long time. As she read, she noticed the title of the newspaper. Veritas -- her parents newspaper. The words began to swim as the tears filled her eyes. The dictator killed her parents for writing a newspaper. She gripped the paper tight remembering them.

Mama

Curly Red hair

Papa

Laughing eyes

Soldiers

Gone

A loud gasp abruptly jolted her out of her memory. In front of her stood her bunkmate. She scrambled to hide the paper but he gripped her hand, trying to pry away the paper. He stared at her, his eyes wide in disbelief. Then a streak of happiness crossed his otherwise sullen face -- he knew.  He dropped the paper and ran.

“Wait”, she yelled, “Please, don’t”.

He turned around.

“Extra rations”, he sneered, “ You would do the same”.

She grabbed the paper and shoved it back into her nutrient satchel. She started to run but she realized she had nowhere to hide. She kept running, her tears blinding her. She didn’t know where she was running but she didn’t care. She had been running for what felt like an eternity when she slipped on a piece of trash and fell to the concrete floor. It felt as if a giant had ripped off her foot. She tried to stand up but fell back down. She had broken her foot. The pain pushed all the other thoughts out of her mind. She felt a familiar blast of warm air. Where was she? When she wiped her eyes, she saw that she was at the bus stop. Her whole body hurt from the fall but she was too overwhelmed with fear to take notice. An idea began to take root in her mind. She stood up, forgetting her broken ankle. Then, she vigorously wiped her tear stricken face on the sleeve of her jumper and tried to look calm. She checked the bus schedule and noticed that the next return bus would arrive in 10 seconds. From behind her, she saw 5 soldiers entering her shelter - were they coming for her? She saw the bus turn the corner and willed it to go faster. After what seemed like hours, the bus arrived. She looked over her shoulder, no one was behind her. She forced herself to slowly walk into the bus. Just as the doors opened she heard her roommate shriek,

“She’s gone.”

She clambered into the bus and sat on the cold seat. She hid her shaking hands in her pocket, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention. Suddenly, the pouch fell out of her sweaty, shaking hands and rolled across the bus. It stopped at the bus attendant’s feet. He looked at her. She was sure he would report her and she readied herself to jump off the bus.

    She stretched out her sweaty palm and took the satchel from the attendant. She quickly tucked the satchel into her pocket. Then she jammed her hand in after it to make sure it didn’t fall out again. The rest of the bus ride went smoothly but she knew better than to feel at ease. Her face was probably flashing on all the screens. She wondered how long it would take until the others would be hunting for her. Once she got into the facility she would have to act quickly: the second she would scan her badge, they would know where she was. The facility would be put on lockdown. Her only chance of escaping was to hide inside the facility and … And then what? She didn’t know.

    “Station 107, Material sorting facility,” said the bus attendant.

    She got off and kept her head low. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her. She noticed the screen above the facility-- it was flashing a picture of her.

As she neared the entrance, she could hear the speakers blaring her name, “We are searching for number 21. She is a material sorter. If seen, she is to be immediately reported. Extra rations, water, and a promotion will be offered to those who find her and bring her to us. We ask for your cooperation in finding her.”

She pulled the hood of her jumper over her head, hiding her eyes. Keeping her head down, she walked to the scanner. She swallowed and took her hand out of her pocket. Her hand wavered before the scanner and then she pressed it down. The doors opened with a puff of air.

The announcement came out, “Welcome back to the facility number 21”... 

She knew what she had to do. She walked normally, not wanting to attract more attention. The announcement ended. Now a new announcement came on louder than the last.

“The facility is now on lockdown. Please proceed with caution, material sorter 21 is thought to be inside the facility.” The voice over the speakers bellowed.

The sorters streamed out of their stations, eager to turn her in and receive their extra rations. She dived into the sea of gray. She knew that the best place to disappear was in a crowd. She walked along just another sorter. People nudged her and everyone wanted to get to the front. She noticed soldiers approaching to split up the crowd. Doubt ate her insides and she began to bite her lip. What if they found her? She looked for a place to hide, panicking, but there was none in sight.

The soldiers were now only a few feet away and she could hear their commander yell, “Take the whole crowd, she's in there. I want everyone's handprint read. Once you find her, bring her immediately to me.”

In front of her, she saw a green container, full of trash. It was big enough to hold her. She walked to the edge of the crowd, keeping an eye on the soldiers who had begun grabbing people. Then she threw her ID down pretending she had dropped it. She crouched behind the container and waited for the crowd to be taken away.

“Everyone, follow me!” the commander barked.

The crowd followed the commander to the scanner. When the last person was a good 20 feet away from her she slowly got up and quietly opened the container. Inside, there were electronic parts. The inside content of the container looked painful but it was her only chance. She climbed in and felt the sharp wires poke her skin. Then she carefully lowered the lid of the container. She moved some of the parts, as quietly as she could and made herself a bit of space at the bottom of the container. She put some of the parts on top of herself-- even if someone looked inside they wouldn't see her. She remembered the newspaper and searched her pocket. The nutrient satchel was still there. She realized how tired she was and fell asleep clutching the newspaper.

She woke up bleary eyed and confused. An unfamiliar up and down motion rocked the container. Her senses were overpowered by a strong salty smell. She heard screeches above her that sounded like broken chutes. Where was she? She looked around her. She was covered in robotic parts. Her memory rushed over her in a painful wave. Was she about to be executed? She moved away the parts on top of her and opened the lid of the container. She stepped out on more containers. She seemed to be in a room full of trash. On the other side of the room, there was a door. She walked across the containers, stumbling a few times because of the strange rocking. The door was painted white with 2 red stripes across the top. Surprised to find the door open, she turned the smooth handle. She gasped as the wind whipped up her hair. She was standing behind a white railing surrounded by water. The waves nipped at the hull of what appeared to be  a ship. The ocean was a dark blue. It looked so different than the muddy water in her shelter. Above her, strange creatures circled. Out in front of her, the sun’s rays raced across the water and sky painting them in hues of pink and orange. She stretched out her arms and leaned over the railing, wishing to be as free as the creatures above her.