Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I watch a small group of young street children, none of them older than eight years old, the youngest could possibly have been three, approach the door of the building and knock. I take another step towards the brewery. Something is pulling me to it. The scanner around me beeps, drawing my attention and breaking the hold that was over me for a moment. I step through to wait for the others.
“What do you suppose is going on in there?” I ask Dora, one of my work friends beside me. I don’t take my eyes off the building, but I can feel her shrug beside me.
“The hermit lives there,” she responds.
“The what?” How have I not known someone is in there? I’ve been walking past here for what feels like forever. I know almost everyone around here.
“That place is creepy. He’s just a guy who started squatting in there one day and nobody cares enough to do anything about it. That place is a hell hole. Why would they bother to kick someone out of it?”
I stare at it. For a moment I think I see the shadow of a large man pass in front of the flickering light. Then suddenly the door opens, and from the shadows the children are handed wrinkled paper bags. The children cheer and then run away, laughing and smiling to each other. Some of them share the contents of what they’ve gotten, and from what I can tell it looks like food and candles, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure. My interest rises even more.
Where did those come from? I watch as one child holds up a jar of peanut butter. I’ve never seen one of those on this side of the wall before. How the hell did that guy get one, let alone enough to give all the kids a jar each?
“Interesting,” I murmur to myself. I look around, but Dora is already tapping her foot as she waits impatiently for the others, clearly annoyed. I think she hates being on this side of the wall. She prefers it with the Elites. I just wish there wasn’t a wall at all and that everyone could live together.
“Did you see that?” I ask, looking back at her and then to the empty space where the kids were just a second ago.
“See what?” She glances around like I’m crazy then looks back to the brewery. “It’s just some creepy old eccentric. Let it go.” She shakes her head at me, making her dark hair bounce with the motion. She’s annoyed this morning.
I probably should keep my nose down and do my job, but for some reason I feel like there’s something else going on. There’s an energy in the air and it’s drawing me to that building. I can’t explain it, and it’s shaking me up, waking something up inside me that I’ve always known is there but never knew what to do with it.
“Minnie, come on. We’re going to be late,” Dora barks, tapping her foot louder now.
I cross through the gates with the rest of the team and past the protected wall that separates the area where I live from the Elites. Curiosity gnaws at me with every step I take away from the brewery, but still I continue on the path, feeling like eyes are on me the whole time. Normally a feeling of being watched would make me uneasy, but this is different. It is almost calming, like when I do my yoga. I try to shake it off, knowing I have things I need to do.
It’s time for work.
I’m lucky that I have a good job in the emergency room at the city’s only hospital. There aren’t many of us allowed in here, let alone allowed to have a job with such good working conditions. Most of the jobs given to people like me are ones that none of the Elites want to do.
I love my job. Helping the injured and sick calls to me. It’s a part of who I am. It’s what drives me each day. The hospital is a for-profit institution, so it’s ridiculously well-equipped and always over-staffed. The hospital administration picks and chooses patients, so there are a lot of research subjects and not that many terrible emergencies. But why would there be many terrible emergencies among the healthy, fed and educated Elites? The bitter part of me that will always see the difference between their kind and mine rumbles.
It’s why I try to help people as much as I can when I’m on my side of the wall. I might not have the fancy machines like they do here, but sometimes a little goes a long way. I wish I could do more for others on my side of the wall.
I’m at work for maybe five minutes when I get a page to see my supervisor. I know exactly what this is about. Dread sits deep into my stomach. I try to keep calm and relax my face as I make my way to her office. I don’t want to give any of my emotions away. It’s harder to keep your nose down when you’re being called center stage.