June 1st was upon us again, though according to the travelers, we’ve lost another 2.1 million. By my calculations we’re losing people faster, now that the water has run out and the desalination plants destroyed in the frenzy, it continues to get worse.
In a way, the frenzy was pointless. The lottery never benefited anyone, so what did they think would happen when they clamped down even harder on water? A hydrogen atomizer was the only option, so the masses rushed and rioted during the lottery, believing they hid hundreds of atomizers that they used to provide unlimited water to the government, or to those who can pay the premium price for it.
That was a long time ago. I learned when my Pa never came home, making me the man of the house and responsible for finding water for the whole family.
So I stand in the line, move myself forward with the foolish hope that any of it matters. Maybe the ground-dwellers had the right idea. Digging my toe into the earth.
“Ya know, people used ta dig in the ground for watah back in the day.” The ancient man with the weird accent said again.
Yes, I know, you keep saying it. But I just nod politely and continue to say nothing. What this idiot doesn’t understand is speaking means I need liquid to lubricate my vocal chords. I don’t even remember the last time I spoke aloud. The only reason this old coot is doing it is because he never learned sign language.
I hope he dies soon. No, that’s a cruel thought, I don’t think that, not in a mean way, but I do mean it. One less person means a better chance at an atomizer.
I look up and down the row of people and start thinking about murdering each person. But doesn’t that make me as bad as the soulless bipeds who did this to us? Our ancestors. That word feels dirty in my mind.
Different character
It were bright, like it always been this time o’year. The line o’ people in front o’ me warn’t too bad. Last year I were a few hundred back, at least this year I can see the front. They might’n run out of lottery fobs. I got a chance, Kay. I know she can hear me up there. She’s gon’ help me this year, I kno’ it. Her up in heaven, makin’ sure I gets a ticket and that atomitizer. I dun know how it works, but Imma get it and figur it out.
“Ya know, people used ta dig in the ground for watah back in the day.” I say to the young’un digging his toe in the dirt. We had a well, deep underground with cool, clean water. I ‘member threatenin’ to throw that rowdy boy who threw that ball at school. My face spreads into a smile while I remember the feeling of the waterin’ hole, the rope burn from the swing into the cold water. It don’t seem so long ago, but my hands look like old man hands, n I can’t unnerstand these kids round here.
Maybe all these young ones will figur out how ta get new watah. I bet they got the know how. I ain’t got another year in me. I los’ too much in them frenzies. Got no watah, los two fingers, n’ a week in da box. I still dunno why they give you watah when you in da box. Shoulda just let me die then. No, that ain’t how it works here. We gotta live long enough to die by nature, not by the Keepers.
Book Slut 