by Logan Byrne
I scanned my print, the screen once again turning green, before she looked back up, smiling.
“You’re now checked out. Your user number for the lottery drawing tonight is on your receipt. I hope you enjoyed your experience and please come back again. Thank you,” she said, before giving me my receipt.
User N-9989NMBYR it said.
I looked at a clock on the wall, under ten minutes left until I started my shift. I mouthed a word my mother would slap me for saying and ran out the door, running to work to make sure I got there on time.
As I ran, I rubbed the back of my neck again, wincing. Although the bump was small, it hurt to touch. I didn’t know how people did this daily. I just hoped this thing wouldn’t make me regret going in there later tonight. Who knew how big it would get.
Chapter Three
Wh en I got off work later that night I was completely exhausted. I was lucky enough to get off a little earlier, because Mr. Kriegle wanted to close up shop so he could go home and watch the lottery drawing tonight, which was set to begin in thirty or so minutes. I knew I wouldn’t get paid for the missed thirty minutes, but in a way I couldn’t say that I cared all too much. It was worth it to just get out early and leave this place behind.
The sky took on an ominous glow at night, the swirling gray and black shades clashing with each other as the incandescent glow from the skyscrapers in the distance wrestled with the darkness of the clouds, trying to split them up. I looked further down the city, able to easily see the buildings that were all one hundred and fifty stories and higher. They broke up the landscape, showcasing the difference in lifestyles, as well as what money could really buy in this city. Most of the people in those mega buildings, the ones that were all shiny and kept up, were rich and important in some way or another. Apartments on the higher floors commanded more money than the lower, though all of the apartments sold for more money than I’d make in three hundred years.
I had a long walk home, the pavement a little damp as it had rained an hour ago, sprinkled really, but the rain here was nothing you generally wanted to be around. I didn’t know if it could hurt you directly, but with the smog and pollution in this city, you wouldn’t really want to go outside in a thunderstorm to find out.
There was nobody out tonight. The crosswalk signal stayed green on the opposite side for the longest time as I waited patiently for it to turn so I could walk. I finally looked around, saw nobody in the immediate vicinity, and walked across without the proper signal, which I wouldn’t normally dare to do during the day. Jaywalking wasn’t accepted, at least by the police, and a mandatory one-day labor sentence somewhere in the city wasn’t exactly a fate I could afford with my job and all.
I walked into an alleyway. My house was only a few minutes away, and going through this rare break in the buildings in the older part of the city shaved almost two minutes off of my commute. I noticed rats scurrying in front of me, their dark, shadowy bodies running quickly past small puddles, the lights reflecting and illuminating them. I wasn’t afraid of rats anymore; I got over my fear of them when I was Saraia’s age, though I wouldn’t say I liked them either. They were disgusting little creatures, but they weren’t going anywhere.
I turned out of the alley and onto my street before I saw our dimly lit stoop in the distance. I jogged up the steps. The door on the right was for our place, while the door on the left serviced two apartments upstairs, both owned by widows who’d had those apartments as long as our family had had ours. The only difference was they never left their apartments or let anybody else live there but their deceased husbands.
I jiggled my key in the lock. It always stuck, especially when the air was humid. When I got it open I could see my mother and Saraia inside already watching the drawing, though it looked like it hadn’t started yet.
“There she is,” my mother said.
Saraia jumped up, ran to me and hugged me, causing me to flash a little smile as I closed and locked the door behind me. I kicked off my wet shoes and walked over to the couch with her.
“How was work?” my mother asked.
“It went well. Mr. Kriegle let us off early because of the drawing and everything. I think he just wanted to watch it in peace without all of us there to bug him. He’s been talking weirdly lately about how he thinks this is his time and he’s going to get drawn,” I said.
“Well, maybe he will,” my mother said.
“Please. One look at his sorry butt and they’d toss him back,” I said, causing my mother to smile.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Saraia asked.
I finally paid attention to the television, seeing not the drawing or the large crowd, but something outside, people walking into the venue and being interviewed by Chet Gargan, the host who pushed himself on every television set and radio show whenever he could. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t or wouldn’t do, which was horrible for us.
He really was one of the wonders of the world just by his appearance alone. He had rather pale skin, though not quite ghostly, with slicked back black hair accented with a blond streak down the front. I always thought that he looked like a skunk, though I supposed that was cruel, since skunks were a lot cuter than him. They probably smelled better, too.
“I can’t stand this guy,” I said.
“Look at her! Wow, she’s so pretty,” Saraia said, pointing to a woman on the screen.
A banner showed up on the bottom indicating her name was Georgiana Humbleton, a woman I had seen on the digital billboards that hang from any building that can support them. She had jet black hair that was pulled back into a braid that was so taught I wasn’t sure it could ever be undone. She walked with such grace as she wore a shimmering white dress that looked as if it were made of spider webs frozen in ice crystals.
I felt a little jealous of all the glamour, looking down at my own worn clothes, even though they were work clothes, and I almost wished I could be there with them, flashing my white teeth and chuckling fake laughs as some pompous man with a microphone told me jokes that wouldn’t even make Saraia laugh.
“I wish that could be us. Well, not at that event, but living that life,” I said.
“I know, darling. It can be hard sometimes, watching people who seem to have it all when you don’t seem to have much of anything. It isn’t always a blast to be them, though,” my mother said.
“How so? They have everything they could ever want and need. They don’t struggle, they just have it all,” I said.
“Well, that isn’t always the case. I remember when I was a girl, around Saraia’s age, there was a man in the public eye, Herman Von Ostren, who was in a couple movies and seemed to have it all. He had money, he had fame, a nice place in the sky, and even a very attractive girlfriend who many men clamored over,” my mother said.
“Yeah? Sounds pretty grand,” I said.
“Well, it turns out that behind closed doors things weren’t always so great. He had no family, no true friends because of who he was, and his girlfriend at the time was cheating on him with another man. To the general public he looked like some kind of god, but deep down, he had nothing and nobody, even if he had a lot of materialistic stuff,” my mother said.
“So, I don’t get it,” I said.
“So, sometimes people with a lot of things don’t have it better than people with nothing. If those people with nothing have the love of their close friends and family, they have far more than anyone with stuff could ever have,” my mother said.
“I hadn’t really thought about it that way. I guess sometimes it’s better to have friends and family who have nothing to gain from you than to have everything in the world but be alone with nobody to really talk to,” I said.
They moved inside after ten minutes, Chet positioned on the grandiose stage, the shiny white floor backlit underneath as he walked the stage with a skinny gold headset on, waving and smiling to everyone. The show was about to begin.
“Hello, and welcome to our special event tonight. You wi
ll witness tonight the sixty-seventh annual WorldNet drawing, and those chosen will be entered into our annual competition in which each team will be looking to find both halves of the sacred and shimmering talisman so that they may secure their win and take home the grand prize!”
I rolled my eyes, his chipper attitude and bright smile almost too much to bear, though I knew I had nothing better to do tonight anyway. Besides, I liked spending time with my mother and Saraia, and they both wanted to see who got chosen, so I guessed I’d stay, for them.
“If you’re new to this, though I don’t know how you would be, everyone in this mighty nation, aged sixteen to sixty, who accessed WorldNet starting a year ago today, all of the way up to right now, will be eligible for entry into the competition. It could be you, it could be them, heck, it could even be me!” Chet said, smiling, to the laughter of the crowd, who were all eating out of the palm on his hand.
As if Chet or anybody else in that stupid venue would get chosen. Did they really expect us to believe that the nation would throw their VIP citizens into the fray? No, they’d never do that. They’d rather leave the fighting up to a bunch of random, normal citizens who would have a lot to lose and tons to gain by winning. It was more fun that way.
“Before we get to the drawing, and see the bright faces of those picked for this year’s competition, I want to talk a little bit about why we do this and what you have to gain by winning. As many of you know, our great nation suffered a crushing blow sixty-eight years ago. Some fragmented parts of our nation decided that they didn’t want to be a part of us any longer. They wanted to change things, break up the marvelous nation we are and have always been, just because they didn’t like a few things, all of which we greatly depended on. Because of their selfish ways, our government had to crack down, finding ways to keep the country in control while also allowing us to prosper. They created the six megacities, and our new nation, a greater nation, was born. For punishment, they consulted with WorldNet, an up-and-coming corporation that had this great invention, an evolved form of the Internet, that allowed us to transport real people into a digital realm, where your every want and desire is catered to by Gordana, their virtual assistant. In exchange for the contract, WorldNet created what is now the competition, a place where you and twenty-three other people duke it out to find two talismans, each one being one sacred half of a whole. To win, the talismans need to be connected by two separate people to be fused together and end the competition. While the competition has evolved over the years, including this one, may this night always serve as a reminder to those thinking of trying to break down something that will never falter, and never be destroyed,” Chet said, as the crowd cheered.
I felt myself getting a little angry inside as I wondered if he really believed all of this. Did the crowd believe it, that sixty-seven years later this was some fitting thing to still do, even though it shouldn’t be done in the first place? It was so barbaric to me, and even though it wasn’t a fight with the other contestants anymore, it was an internal fight with yourself to stay alive and find some silver half of a statue so that you wouldn’t be forced into hard labor for three years like some kind of slave.
“Now, with all of that gloom and doom out of the way, why don’t I lighten the mood by saying what this year’s prize is for the two lucky participants who manage to find the talismans, combine them, and end the competition!” Chet said, to the roar of the crowd.
The camera panned over them, a pastel sea of bows and glitter, before panning back to Chet, who was on stage, smiling from ear to ear, soaking it all up and loving the attention. If anyone ever suffered from vanity, it was him.
“If you’re cast into the competition and should win, you and your partner will win one wish each,” Chet said.
The crowd gasped in suspense, as Chet took an air of seriousness while he looked around the room.
“I know, I know! You might choose a new place to live, maybe you want a secure lifetime job with the government, or maybe you want something we all love: money. The choices are endless, and you and your partner, whomever that may be, each get one, so make sure to use it wisely. You never know what may happen. The two winners, after the competition is over, will join me right here, on this very stage, to announce their wishes to the world!”
“I’d wish for a thousand dolls,” Saraia said, her hands clasped together. I could almost see inside her brain, imagining swimming in a sea of a thousand neatly dressed dolls.
“What about you, mom?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. That job offer sounds awful tempting. I bet it would pay more money and allow me to be home earlier. I’d probably choose that. What about you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” I said.
“Now, on to the part you’ve all been waiting for,” Chet said, interrupting me. “We’ll go down the line, each megacity will get their turn in the drawing. The order will be geographical, starting in the west, with Seattle, then Los Angeles, Denver, Austin, Chicago, and finally, where we are tonight, New York City! So, without further ado, let’s get to the Seattle drawing!” Chet yelled out.
A massive screen lowered behind him, showing a map of the nation. Each of the six megacities lit up before it zoomed in on Seattle, with four frames at the top, one for each person who would be chosen.
“Gordana,” Chet said aloud, as he peered into the crowd.
“Yes, Chet?” Gordana asked.
“I love it when she talks to me that way,” Chet said, winking into the camera.
The crowd laughed, Chet smiling, his cheeks a little red, before he looked back at the screen.
“Gordana, would you please draw the first participant?”
A string of letters spun around the screen, which I took to indicate the names of all the people in Seattle who were eligible, before a name popped up.
“User S-345BN8Y, Gracie Sherman, female, aged sixteen years,” Gordana said.
A picture came up in the first frame, her name underneath, and my stomach sank a little. I didn’t know the girl, I didn’t know anybody from other megacities, but it hit home, seeing someone so young, someone like me, cast not only into the competition, but cast in first.
“User S-434FH99U, David Brussel, male, aged fifty-three years,” Gordana said, as a picture of an older gentleman showed up in the next frame.
“User S-8375-BNMK990, Gregory Masters, male, aged thirty-eight years,” Gordana said.
“Who will join them?” Chet asked.
“User S-129HJFYU, James Branson, male, aged forty-eight years,” Gordana said.
“There you have it, folks, the participants representing Seattle are now in!” Chet said.
“Wow, those poor men,” my mother said.
“What about the girl? She’s in it too,” I said.
“Yeah, but she’s young. She has the stamina and youth to try to survive. These older guys don’t have that, and even though they might be a little smarter, it won’t help if they can’t run away from someone chasing after them. You always have the nuts inside who try to take people out,” my mother said.
The map exited Seattle before zooming in on Los Angeles, another four frames popping up.
“Gordana, will you please commence with the Los Angeles choices?” Chet asked.
“User L-WER777433, Jason Wilson, male, aged sixteen years,” Gordana said.
“User L-65890PPLKM, Angelina Jameson, female, aged twenty-two years,” Gordana said.
“User L-34577NMBV, Francesca Kaske, female, aged twenty-four years,” Gordana said.
“User L-RREWQ9974, Bridgette Berman, female, aged seventeen years,” Gordana said.
“I bet that guy is blushing right now. All those beautiful women and just him. What a dream come true!” Chet said, much to the delight of the crowd, who laughed at anything and everything he said.
Their faces looked so scared, their file pictures showcasing them as wide-eyed kids who didn’t belong in this kin
d of place. Sure, three of them were older than I was, but I only saw kids when I looked at them.
Gordana zoomed out of Los Angeles before going to Denver, a megacity filled with less young people than some of the other ones.
“Gordana, please proceed with the Denver picks,” Chet said.
“User D-98733KKLP, Kurt Wright, male, aged forty-four years,” Gordana said.
“User D-2309BNJUY, Julia Steiner, female, aged fifty years,” Gordana said.
“User D-23084NNMBV, Cassandra Adams, female, aged fifty-three years,” Gordana said.
“User D-HJFG8863, Daniel Rothmeyer, male, aged thirty-eight years,” Gordana said.
“I hope somebody gives them the senior rate inside,” Chet said, smiling.
Gordana zoomed out of Denver, going into Austin, which always seemed like the wildcard selection. They were definitely a large megacity by area, the people there seemingly more in touch with nature and their surroundings, more so than the people in the other cities, especially New York and Chicago. They were lucky to have a large walled-in area outside the normal city walls that let them walk freely amongst the wildlife.
“User A-YYUN9834, Gordana, please start with Austin,” Chet said.
“User A-POKK9952, Jamal Brown, male, aged thirty years,” Gordana said.
“User A-GNHU87110, Jessica Berman, female, aged sixteen years.”
“User A-NMBRT7758, Nigel Yancey, male, aged forty years.”
“User A-HNBIO99011, Peter Ho, male, aged twenty years.”
I didn’t know what to make of the Austin pick; all of them looked like random choices who had nothing in common. The girl, Jessica, looked a little like me, though smaller. I wasn’t sure how she’d fare in there, though I was sure Jamal and Nigel would do okay based on their appearance alone. Jamal looked bigger, maybe six feet tall, at least two hundred fifty pounds, like someone who could hold his own. I wished them the best.
“Thank you, Gordana. Now, could you please pick for Chicago?” Chet asked.
