Hardin's War

by A.S. Morrison

IV

  The Files Office was quiet, as it always was, one evening as I attempted to finish my favorite book. It had been nine months since I started working there and almost nine months since I realized that the job was the most boring ever. It didn’t take long to read the history gathered by the previous people who held that position. Every month they did what I did; write what was going on in a giant book with thousands of pages. The vast majority of the entries simply read “nothing”. That about summed up everything nicely. What surprised me was that the very first person to work as Files Historian, as the title was known, did not write anything. She had been there from year one to fifty three. The only explanation I could come up with was that “historian” had not been added to the title yet.

  I closed Don Quixote a few pages before the end. It was hard to concentrate on anything for too long anymore. Mama was slowly getting worse and twelve hunters had been killed in the last nine months. Humurom was becoming a much more depressing place. Sudden screams and crying were becoming normal. Hunters had died before, but never so many in such a short time. The history stated that the Hunting Office had been created around year one hundred, and since then forty seven hunters had been killed; forty five of which in the last thirty years. Everyone was worried.

  My mind was briefly filled with terrible thoughts. I got up from my tiny desk and went behind one of the many book cases smashed into that small room and retrieved one of three large paintings. Its bright colors cheered me up immediately. It was a simple painting of two people, a man and a woman, standing in a field of grass. The sky was blue and the grass a beautiful green. The man and woman had their backs to their audience. Their clothes were equally as marvelous as their backdrop. The man looked to be wearing a blue suit. The woman had a white dress and a cute little umbrella. I wanted to jump into the painting so much that it hurt. These three pictures were the only visual representatives of the world before the war. The other two showed tall buildings that reached to the sky. They were more abstract and didn’t show anything in detail, but they were still amazing. The pain of want was so strong that I hid the picture once again and thought about the present.

  I began to talk out loud to myself, something that I had become accustomed to doing while alone.

  “Four more deaths this month alone. Those Cityers – they must really want to wipe us all out. But what’s the point? What are they after? It must be really important. Unless . . . unless they are after genocide. Could that really be what they’re after? No, if that was it then they would have followed one of the hunters here and then reported it back. Maybe they are trying something different, but what? We haven’t attacked them in years, maybe since before the war started, so what is their problem with us?”

  I wanted to get out of there so badly. Everything was going wrong; my life was going by without any input by me. Was there a place out there that was better? Did a better place exist out in that dangerous world? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to think about it. I pushed it from my mind, but like everything else that I tried to avoid thinking about it came back in an instant.

  I sat down again, attempting once again to finish the book. Not even a paragraph in and I heard a noise. I couldn’t place it, but it sounded as if it came from somewhere below me. At first I assumed it was somebody dropping something in a residence, and then remembered that the residences were above the Files Office, which was on 5. It must have come from the dining area. It was quiet for a few seconds then I heard it again. A loud bang, it was quickly followed by yelling and more bangs. I got up and went out to the railing and looked down.

  About ten people were throwing chairs and knocking over tables. Hurried footsteps could be heard all around as more people joined in the ruckus. At first I assumed that another hunter had been killed, but these weren’t the sad reactions that usually followed a death. This was anger, the worst I had ever seen. Stud stood beside me, I hadn’t seen him approach. He was nearing the end of his leader training and was due to step up to an actual position soon. He looked worried as he watched the mess two floors below. It was turning into a mob.

  “It’s going to get chaotic down there.” Stud said.

  The people had made it into the kitchens. I could hear plates hitting the floor.

  “What’s happened?”

  Stud sighed, “Word got out that the leaders are planning to end the Hunting Office.”

  “What? How does something like that happen? We need hunters.”

  “It’s getting too dangerous; four deaths this month. Twelve since . . .”

  “How did the news get out?”

  “I thought people needed to know before it became official.”

  “If you get caught . . .”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  More people ran into the kitchens. The mass was twice as large as it was when I first saw it.

  “I don’t understand the reaction,” I said, “no hunter has found anything in nine months.”

  “And you’re still a legend for that.” Stud shook my shoulder.

  “But why is everyone acting so crazy?”

  “It’s not about the last time anybody had meat,” He explained, “it’s about the next time. Every morning there was hope that a hunter would find something, a deer or a case of food. What you see here is hopelessness. Those people down there realize that if the Hunting Office is closed; the hope of ever getting meat again ends.”

  “Any chance they’ll change their minds?” I asked.

  “Not likely, not unless someone can come up with an idea that brings hope back, however small the chance is.”

  The ruckus got louder; people all over the top levels began shouting. Stud got called off to help the leaders keep order. I locked up the Files Office and went upstairs, away from all the noise. The whole time I thought about what Stud said, about bringing hope back. It appeared that most other people were too preoccupied with destroying what they could get their hands on to think up a plan.

  I went to my residence to tell Mama the news. She was paler then usual and could barely get her head off her pillow. The smell had only gotten worse as the medics tried everything they could to keep her going. I tried to numb it all out, but it was impossible.

  “What’s all the noise?” Mama asked weakly when I sat down next to her.

  “The leaders are going to end the Hunting Office.”

  She tried to get up, falling back down instead. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I’d doubt they’d change their minds, but I think they should.”

  “Someone needs to make them.”

  “That’s what Stud said.”

  Mama had a coughing fit. I didn’t know what to do and so rubbed her arm uselessly. I heard a knock at the door. I waited until Mama was feeling better to answer it.

  “Stud?”

  He stood at the door, looking out of breath. The noise had settled.

  “Hey, the leaders are going to have an open meeting tonight. I’m going around telling everyone to be there.”

  “Why are they doing that?”

  “It’s the only thing they can think to do to keep the unrest down.”

  Stud ran off to tell the next residence. I went back to be with Mama.

  “Are you going to go?” Mama asked once I told her what Stud had said.

  “Yeah, let’s see if anybody can think of a plan.”

  “They’re hard to please. It’s going to take someone really smart to come up with something, like someone who works in the Files Office.”

  “I don’t even do anything,” I explained, “I just look at the stuff.”

  “But you’ve learned a lot.”

  “I’ll think about it. Did the medics come by today?” I wanted any excuse to change the subject.

  “Yes.”

  “What did they say?”

  “O
h, nothing too bad,” she lowers her voice, “I’m restricted to the room.”

  “What? Why didn’t you start with that?”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not that bad? The medics only restrict people to their rooms if they think . . . if they think the person is . . .”

  “Beyond help.”

  “Is that what they think?”

  “What do they know?”

  “Mama, they’re medics for a reason. They’ve been trained to make these decisions.”

  Mama sighed, “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Do you know what I bet would help? Real food, not that junk Nutrition they make down there in their little machines. You don’t even want to know what’s in that.”

  “And I thank you for not telling me.”

  “If they close that office then there’s no way anybody will ever get anything real to eat.”

  “That’s why someone needs to make up a plan to get more food. The best idea would be one that makes it so nobody hunts because that’s clearly not working.”

  “What else is there?” I asked, drawing a blank mentally.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  I helped Mama back to sleep and then left the horrible smelling residence. So much happened that day already, and it still wasn’t over. I headed down to the library and sat in my seat in the back corner. Maybe I was the one who could come up with an idea, but what? I thought about what Stud and Mama said, but couldn’t make any connections with how to get food without hunting and managing to quiet the angry citizens of Humurom hungry for real food.