Location: Indigo Lights sector

Time: Tuesday, October 15

Weather: Cool

...

Even as long as Evadam has been a closed-borders territory, there have been to date very few resource shortages. Advancements in recycling efficiency has allowed the territory to recycle nearly 100% of raw materials with little waste. The territory as a whole does not have trash cans, it has recycling bins. Wood, metal, carbon, plastic, whatever the public decides to throw out is broken down and reformed. For that to happen, it must first be sent to Indigo Lights, the mass recycling district. Recycling plants for various materials make up the majority of the district, with workers commuting from sectors all over the territory. Waste is taken from the people's homes everywhere into recycling trucks as employees make their daily drive to work.

...

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Sweat dripped from Blaise's forehead into his eyes. Blinking to clear them did little good, more sweat would come not long afterwards. Curse my skimpy eyebrows, not shirking on the job, thought he. Who gave them permission to follow my example?

The scent of molten hydrocarbons burnt his nostrils. The bales of plastic hit the conveyor with all they had, sending up small clouds of chalk dust from the impact. The bales raced away as soon as he plunked them down, probably off to be separated and melted down. He had to rush, matching the speed of his hefting to the speed of their racing. He would've loved to take things slower— much, much slower, but the sooner he made quota, the sooner he was free to go.

On the bright side, he was stationed to work with the plastics. The overseer had probably taken pity on him since he was young. His muscles screamed at the thought of lifting bales of iron.

He could barely think, all concentration placed on counting the bales. He wasn't given any sort of counting sheet or anything for himself, but a tracker inside the conveyor was keeping track of how many bales were hauled onto it and reporting to the overseer's tablet. If he tried to shirk and say he was done when he hadn't met quota, another twenty bales would be added to the minimum. If he did more than quota, it wasn't like there was any penalty, but he'd be doing more work than he had to.

At this rate, he was likely to get home around evening. With all the other stuff he'd planned on doing, he was apt to be out long after dark. After hours of lugging away, he'd finally chipped a sizable chunk out of his quota. He'd been working from the moment he left the QS conference room.

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"Just to review," the chairman's voice reverberated throughout the meeting room, "the young men in question have broken and entered into territory far beyond their authorization. Moreover, this is the third strike on these particular young mens' records, and the gentleman on the far right does not even attend this school."

A large, black table occupied most of the space in the conference room. Filling in the gaps of what was left were a spattering of office chairs with wheels. Blaise couldn't help thinking it was pretty crappy to shove three guys into a detention room when they had a room like this the whole time. On the other hand, he could see why they did. Waiting for punishment to come was never supposed to be comfortable, after all.

In one of those office chairs sat Caroline Anderssen, the very picture of patience as she listened in on what wretched things her nasty sons had done. In another sat Thomas, choppers grinding at max capacity, and yet another held bowl-cut-Colin who looked about a breath away from fainting. There were others too, Ms. Weller, vice chairman, a few other counselors, even a portly couple who must've been Colin's folks. The woman was fidgeting all over the place, but the man seemed surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

And of course, in the head honcho's spot, the chairman hadn't ceased his talking. "It is only thanks to the fact that no damages have been reported that we have chosen not to file charges. That being the case, we felt the parents of those involved should be aware that the disciplinary measures are very much harsher this time around."

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Harsher to the tune of a few months community service, anyway. From the way Mr. Chairman had talked up their punishment, Blaise had half expected jail time.

Not that the recycling sector was anything to sneeze at. No matter how far advanced recycling had become in recent years, working at the plants was still recognized as one of the most grueling jobs in the territory. This was where quite a few jails sent convicts when the time to reform came.

Could they have put in machines to lift the bales to the conveyor? Sure. The entire recycling process probably could've been completely automated by now, up to and including quality control. But that in itself would waste the raw materials the plants were built to conserve. Besides, the fact that it was one of the worst places to work could be used to the authorities' advantage.

Thomas's quota was less than a third of the usual size for the first day, something about some extra-special-super-duper field trip for his overtime class. There was so much outright favoritism Blaise could actually smell it.

He paused to take a gulp of water from his travel bottle. At least he'd had the foresight to bring that much.

The good news was he'd made it to his forty-eighth bale. Just a couple more, and he was free to go.

After already hoisting forty-eight bales, the two bales remaining came and went as easy as breathing air. He called the overseer to his conveyor to clock him out and set out on the winding path past other conveyors to freedom. That would've been the end of it, if he hadn't happened to have passed next to Colin's line.

In contrast to the belts surrounding it, there weren't any bales zooming along on this one at all.

The floor, on the other hand, was littered with them. Dolly after dolly of shredded and bound plastics surrounded Colin like the turrets of a castle. Blaise counted ten, twenty- no, thirty! Maybe even more bales scattered around.

"Holy accumulating petroleum, Batman! What, are you tryna' build a bomb shelter around yourself or something? Did you get any on the conveyor at all?!"

The boy was half-slumped over one of the smaller bales, looking every bit like a boiled lobster. Jerk has the nerve to look expensive even when he's sweating it out in a warehouse. Blaise could actually see the steam rising off the younger's glasses. It looked like he was attempting to lift the plastic bale, but Blaise couldn't be sure.

Colin panted something through a curtain of steam and wet hair.

Blaise rapped his knuckles against the nearest bale."Kay, I have no idea what you said, but cool."

A fraction louder, an answer came from somewhere within the plastic fort. "Hah... hah... nine."

Nine. He hadn't even reached the double digits. In his defense, the smallest bale alone looked like it could take the skinny boy in a fight and win. The pitiful thing was, it wasn't like he was slacking off or anything. He was sweating like a pig, and his breathing had breached the gap between "intense cardio" and "asthmatic bike pump". Nine bales was an hour and a half of hard work. At the rate he was going, he'd spend the night here in Indigo.

Blaise's thoughts were divided, like in the twin's cartoons when a character has an angel and a devil on their shoulder.

You know he's gonna die here, whispered a tiny white Blaise in a halo. This wimp's such a pushover one of those bales is gonna fall on him and crush him.

Not our problem, countered a tiny red Blaise with a pitchfork. You've already done more work than you were planning on. You've got people to see, things to do!

The shrimp's gonna dehydrate! Look at him, he's a cactus already!

People. To. See. Things. To. Do. Do you realize how long things're gonna take already?

Waiting wouldn't cut it either. He'd already given his friends in Green Ridge the green light. Factoring his time, it was already too little time and too much to finish off alone. Unless..

Blaise shimmied through to the center of the pileup, knocking aside a couple bales. Colin had managed to budge his bale a few inches in the time Blaise had been standing at his station. The older took it from him, hoisting it up onto the belt where it was whizzed away.

"Congrats," he told the dumbfounded student, "you've made it to double digits." He removed his t-shirt and tied it around his forehead as a makeshift headband. If he was going to haul another forty bales, he was gonna need one.

"Um– ah? What?" Colin stammered out as Blaise hefted bale after bale onto the conveyor.

Blaise waved him off. "Just sit tight. Your body type just isn't suited to this line of work."

The high schooler seemed to be struck speechless. "Um, alright." He sank to the concrete floor, probably too out of breath to argue.

It took another hour and a half, but eventually the two of them were cleared to go by the overseer. Slowly they both made their way down the hallway towards the bus pickup.

The younger of the two was chattering on to fill the silence. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, um, this is pretty embarrassing, but thanks for helping me out, Blaise Anderssen. I'd probably still be back there if it wasn't for you. So, uh, see 'ya tomorrow!" He waved awkwardly, turning towards the door.

"Hold on there a second, buddy."

Blaise maneuvered himself between Colin and the exit. "You didn't think I'd do this for nothing, did you?"

If Colin's face had been a book, the pages would have been emblazoned with a big fat, "Oh crap."

The younger flicked his eyes nervously between the door and the ginger roadblock in front of him. "I mean, if you wanted to be a really nice guy—"

Blaise cut him off. "More like, if I wanted to become a canonized Saint. I did twice the workload, you know?"

Colin had the decency to look embarrassed.

Blaise leaned in, placing a hand on Colin's shoulder. He limited his expression to a reserved smile. "I did something for you. So I've got something I need taken care of. And you're gonna help me out."

The blood leeched from Colin's face. "And if I don't want to?" He attempted weakly.

He shrugged. "See what happens." It was a completely empty threat. If he was left to do everything himself, it'd be an inconvenience, but not as much as thinking up some ridiculous ultimatum would be. He saved that sort of stuff for Thomas. Even if that were the case, Colin seemed to see him as a complete thug who'd break his legs or something equally as stupid. An empty threat may be enough to sway him.

And sway him it did. Both figuratively and literally. He had propped himself against the brick wall lining the exit, looking ready to bawl.

"What– ah. What exactly is it you had in mind?"

Blaise resumed his walk, brushing past the smaller boy. "Like I said, there's something I need to do tonight, and it'll go a lot faster if I'm not doing it by myself."

Colon cowered against the wall. "Are ya gonna blackmail me for my body?"

Blaise shot him a sideways look. " What? No!"

The tension left the younger boy's shoulders, relieved. "Oh, okay, whew. But what else would a guy like you possibly want to blackmail someone about?"

Ignoring the last part of the question (What exactly did that even mean, 'a guy like him'?), Blaise pressed on.

"Don't worry, I really do need some help with something. Not just anybody will do, either."

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...

It's been said that the mark of a truly developed society is its leisure time. When an aggregate of people first come together, the main concern is survival: finding food, building shelter, distributing jobs among the community, et cetera. As time goes on, and the security of the people is established, things like laws and salaries are developed and honed. Conflicts and wars have a hand in developing new technologies, amazing technologies to be sure. But it is after that, when the population searches for something to fill their spare time, that one can be sure society as a whole is progressing, because it is when all pressing concerns are able to be put aside that people begin to crave amusement. Within Evadam, two sectors find their purpose in fulfilling this craving.

Amber Sky has come to have been recognized as the entertainment district. An amusement park, massive sports arenas, even the only zoo in the entire territory. Researchers from Silver Glass often make the trek to Amber Sky Zoo and Aquarium for the chance to study animals usually only found outside the barrier. However the main purpose of this sector is to please the masses.

Black Lace, on the other hand, has become like the Hollywood of Evadam. Since the creation of the barrier, all new movies, books, and television stations originate from this sector.

...

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He should have been elated.

The interior of the building sparkled just a magnificently as the outside. The vast chamber they called a lobby was done in alternating slabs of marble, accented here and there with brass in an Art Deco design. The doors were panels of solid unrecycled wood, a rarity these days.

It wasn't often that the Hub let tourists inside one of their official buildings. Most guided tours only covered the museums and monuments on the outside. Building tours were so rare you practically had to be family of a politician to get one. Leave it to the most advanced group of seniors from the best school in the territory to find a way inside.

He should have been overjoyed. He was seeing a side of the government few people ever see. He should be crying tears of rapture. Instead Thomas felt disgusting. He felt sweaty, and sore, and like there was a rock in his stomach.

He'd had to sprint to even get here in the first place after bussing back from Indigo Lights, nearly an hour away.

When he'd gotten there the counselor's hands had flown to her mouth and she's said, "Thomas! You look like a wreck!"

Thanks, but he didn't need the reminder.

His hair was plastered to his forehead. The stiff blazer against his red, overheated neck felt like a cactus. Though maybe that was the prickle of the stares he'd been getting from the other ASOCs. He'd received his third strike. He'd been sent to the recycling plants. He was about a step away from being a full-fledged rebel.

He didn't want to be a rebel.

"The mural on the ceiling was modeled after the style of an old chapel in what was formerly known as Italy."

The tour was going on right in front of his nose, and he'd already drowned out the first five minutes with inner monologue. Calm down. Hold your breath for four seconds then exhale for eight. These were the sorts of things he lived for, he refused to let something like a horrible mood get in the way of his happiness!

Thankfully, if what he'd missed matched up with what he'd heard so far, it was mainly about design choices in the interior.

"Right down this hallway is the Jury Quarter," the guide was saying, "Fun fact, the knockers you see on all these doors were created from the scaffolding used to paint the mural we viewed earlier."

"What is the Jury Quarter's function?" Asked one of the ASOCs with her hand in the air.

The guide smiled. She had the recessive trait where part of the lip hangs down in the center, bringing her smile into a point. "For some cases, a number of citizens from other sectors are randomly selected to sit in. Until they can go back home, they bunk up in Jury Quarter."

"Understand?" The student nodded, scribbling information furiously into a small handheld notebook. Electronics like phones were prohibited on guided tours.

They walked a ways down a hallway, past more solid-panel doors. "In the room to your left a committee is being held to examine the results of several new studies," the guide narrated as they walked.

The tour continued to that extent for a few hours. The architecture of the rest of the building had also taken influence from historic infrastructure from around the world. The trip itself was a cruise through the hallways, it was seldom if ever that they were allowed inside a room. Even so, indoor windows allowed them to view brief snatches of counsel meetings and court hearings here and there. Thomas found himself relaxing more as time wore on and his peer's sharp gazes were cast from him to the impressive inner workings of the Citadel.

The procession came to a halt at last in front of a reinforced metal door strung up with several types of padlocks. Its looming presence was intimidating— perhaps a bit too intimidating, almost theatrically so. Odds were the majority of the visible locks were for show, a cover up for the real ones tourists couldn't see all.

"The area beyond this point is off limits to non government officials, but.." The guide offered another v-shaped smile before unlatching a small peephole in the wall. "You've been such a good group today, would you like to have a quick peek inside?"

Scripted. Of course they wanted people to look through to the other side, why else would they put in such a tiny door? The actual classified area was likely much farther back, in a much less conspicuous place. This was a goodnatured gimmick they used at the end of every tour (what tiny amount they had). Every one of the ASOCs knew it. Even so, they took the bait. The dozen or so of them clamored around the reinforced glass, each trying to maneuver their way to the front. All farces aside, all of them wanted to see every millimeter of the Hub possible before they returned home.

Thomas was stuck at the back of the huddle, not wanting to resort to anything like shoving his companions. He was taller than many of his classmates, and he used that to his advantage.

He managed to semi-line himself up with the glass, sweatiness forgotten. Ah, yes. Here was the revelry that had been missing at the beginning. The other side of the view port looked essentially the same as it did on this side, marble floors, salarymen and women flitting about in suit coats and pantsuits, but it still gave him such a buzz.

It brought to mind memories of when he'd watch his father setting off for work in similar attire. "Just think! In a few years, you'll bee the one wearing the suit, Thomas!" As complicated and extensive as Thomas's preparations may be, the root cause was something almost embarrassingly childish: he wanted to be like his father. He was almost there. As a senior in an esteemed academy, he had one foot in the door. Just a few years to go yet.

For that purpose alone, he would continue to push onward. Every obstacle Thomas would have to face would be a challenge his father had met and conquered. Though there was one in his house who was the very definition of obstacle, he would overcome somehow. Even now, he could work to purify out his personal imperfections. The Blaise-computer debacle was nearly behind him. Nearly.

Until the moment was shattered by a wail piercing the air.

The class shrieked, taken off guard by the sudden noise.

Thomas was bombarded from every side by pulses of light and sound. Through the the glass door he caught a glimpse of uniformed guards rushing through the hallway single file.

What is going on?

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...

Clear Wood is the fourteenth of the fourteen sectors, and it is by far the most unique. After the discord of the Magnium War, a barrier was put up to shield the territory from the dangers outside. Within the barrier, streets were constructed, then business, houses, schools. Only one sector remains completely untouched, and that is Clear Wood.

One side of the sector is an overgrown thicket, untamed woods with all of the natural animals, weeds, beauty, and pests. The poison ivy and the daisy, side by side. This is kept as a reminder of what life is like outside of the barrier. The other side of Clear Wood is ruins. Torn up streets cut through the ground like scars, skeletons of what may once have been buildings line the streets. There's evidence of bombings in several places, piles of debris scattered about, and the occasional car that had been picked clean by looters. This is kept that we as citizens dare not forget the Magnium War.

Only one family stays in Clear Wood. To be more accurate, only one family is allowed to stay in Clear Wood. This family is tasked with general upkeep of the sector as well as with keeping trespassers out. Being a ruin, there's not much upkeep to speak of, but there's plenty of trespassers, be it treasure hunters coming to pick through the rubble or fugitives trying to hide out from the law.

...

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The primetime drama that had gotten popular recently was playing on the den TV, volume switched to mute so that closed captioning was on. Dezi was splayed out across the floor in front of it, a bowl of Froot Loops and milk balanced precariously on his crossed legs. Beside him Meg was crocheting some sort of spotted turban that was partially wound around Dezi's head, tufts of black hair peeking through the seams.

Blaise paused on his trip to the refrigerator. "You need to get your life together."

He'd only planned on popping in for a moment to grab some things from his room. But, considering the fact that he'd been running on vapors since lunch and probably would be until the wee hours of the morning, he decided to grab some finger food to eat along the way.

"The last person we should be hearing that from is you," Meg retorted absently, finishing off another polkadot. "It's, like, nine thirty now and you're leaving again? With your shirt on your head?"

The intended object of Blaise's remark ignored both of them in favor of reading the TV show.

Blaise shrugged. "Eh."

The eldest set off to complete his mission of raiding the fridge.

"Let's see..." he muttered to himself. Looks like there's leftover cupcakes... One box of chicken McNuggets. I don't think attempting to eat soup would be smart. Pasta's not any better. Hang on! There's corndogs?! Blaise cringed. When was the last time we ate corndogs... It's been months...

Blaise tossed the corndogs in the garbage disposal.

"Looks like nuggets it is," he muttered.

Blaise grabbed a ziplock bag and dumped a dozen cold McNuggets into it along with bags of Doritos and a pair of unfrosted cupcakes. He made sure everything was divisible by two. After all, his traveling buddy wouldn't have eaten supper either. Then again, Blaise wouldn't put it past the kid to blow up like a pufferfish if he ate the wrong thing.

He jogged back into the den, pockets jangling. "Hey, is that Colin kid at your school allergic to anything?"

Meg shifted to an angle where she could keep an eye on both Blaise and her knitting, a task that made Blaise's head hurt just thinking of it. "You're doing something with the student council president?"

"That guy's the president?!"

His outburst was loud enough to divert Dezi from his show for a few seconds. He was more surprised than he should have been. He of all people should know things aren't always how they appear. Colin just didn't seem like the leader type at all.

I mean, he was wearing a student council armband that time I saw him. How on earth did someone with such a meek personality get elected anything ahead of Thomas?

Meg and Dezi synchronize-shushed him. "Mom's in the back with that Jean guy and she told us to be quiet. Colin Nacht is student council president. Why not? He's not super popular or a genius, and he's a little dorky, but he's a nice enough guy."

Blaise snorted. "He's a weird one is what he is. He's all 'Are ya gonna blackmail me for my body'," he imitated in a whine.

Dezi sat up, pressing a hand to his chest. "Did you?!"

"No!"

"Aww, you should have." The younger brother slumped back onto the floor, already having lost interest.

Blaise threw his hands up. "What the actual hell?!"

He grabbed his ziplock on his way out the door, shaking his head to himself. I don't get it at all!

"Aren't ya gonna shower before you leave?" Meg's voice trailing after him, "You smell like BO and poor hygiene's long-lost illegitimate child!"

"Nah," he called over his shoulder, "I'll shower when I get home around three o'clock in the morning."

Dezi smirked around his Froot Loops. "And you say I need to get my life together."

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...

Though it isn't one of the fourteen sectors, there is one more area that must be mentioned. In the center of the territory lies the Hub. The Hub is both the territory's capital and the center of government. All laws come from the Hub. Economy, military, research studies, and discipline are just a few of the hundreds of duties that the Hub is in charge of. Near its core, the buildings in this unique nonsector, all given names like the Capital, the Citadel or the Basilica, are built extravagantly, so much so that even the skyscrapers of Gold Ash and the Victorian mansions of Silver Glass seem flimsy and one dimensional in comparison. Surrounding the outside of the area is a ring of assorted monuments and history museums. Generally speaking, politicians and other workers of the Hub live in the Hub and not in other sectors, with few notable exceptions. Whenever a jury of people from the fourteen sectors may be called up to sit in on a ruling, they too stay in the Hub until the case is finished. As it is the place which handles all laws, it is the most powerful region in the entire territory. There is no opposing law, and unlike some governments in the past it is not divided into federal and local law. The Hub's decisions are to be taken as final. This serves to strengthen the authority by cutting away any contradictions.

...

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"Come on in!"

"Are you sure it's alright to invite me into your room just like that?"

"What are you talking about? I think we're well past the point of going into each other's rooms, don't you?" (Laughter) "Besides, there are listening ears all over the house. In here we can talk in private."

"If you insist."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You have such a nice room. I like the aqua on the walls, it's very calming."

"Thanks. It was Jeremy's idea."

"Is that him there, in the picture on the nightstand?"

"That's him." (Laugh) "You can see how much all of the kids resemble him. I always thought red hair was supposed to be recessive, but not a single one of them got the blonde gene."

"...Do you— For a while now, you've had to endure a bit of pain. You kids, too. Losing a father is no small thing, I should know. What I'm trying to say is... Do you regret your decision at all?"

"Not a bit. I loved him. He loved me. Even if he'd died the day of our honeymoon I wouldn't have regretted marrying him."

"I'm glad. I'm sorry you've had to deal with this alone."

"Don't be. He and I had decided together that if something ever happened to one of us, the other would try their best to move on. Anyway I wasn't alone. I do have a few kids, you know. And now you and your son."

"..."

"Besides that, just because I still love Jeremy doesn't mean I can't love you too."

"Caroline."

"Yes, Jean?"

"I think I should tell them, Caroline. The kids, I mean."

"About your proposal?"

"That too. As soon as possible, if possible. But I also think I should tell them about me. And Hito. Who we really are."

"So soon? You just got here yesterday. You want to drop a bombshell like that on a bunch of kids after you've only known them a day?"

"I wish I had more time to spare, believe me, I do, but there have been some concerning things going on back home. The sooner I can check up on things out there, the better."

"Jean. Juno. At least try to think about what this announcement— heck, this series of announcements— really means. This isn't something you can rip off like a bandaid."

"I know it isn't. But I have to think of what's best for the family."

"What's best for your family might not be what's best for my family."

"..."

"Hey, don't look so depressed. Smile, right? You made it here without any problems, and with Hito to boot, right?"

"...Right."

"You just have to give these things time. I know you're anxious to go back, but... I want them to get to know you first. Even if it's only a little. I want my kids to know 'Jean the person who's marrying their mom' and not just 'Juno, the one from outside'."

"I can stay for a week at most. But after that we will have to say something to them."

"Thanks."

(Peck on the lips)

"Caroline."

"Jean?"

"Marry me."

"We're already engaged though?"

"Marry me sooner."

(Quiet laughter) "Soon."