MICROCONTAMINATED 2093

The year is 2093. I wish I lived 70 years earlier. I've heard stories of people eating fish and meat in the past. I don't know how they taste. I've never tried. We're not fortunate enough for that. Microplastic contamination has taken over everything. I hate broccoli but that's the only staple food now.

My name is MIKE GLENN. Nobody in this small town knows my name. I never bothered telling anyone my name since I arrived here. And partly 'cos I'm mute.

Well, today is immigration day. The elders have gathered at the asylum centre to pick their favourites from the new stock of arrivals. They provide IDs only to the elites. The rest are left to scavenge on the outskirts and eventually left to perish.

I'm a scavenger myself. Most scavengers, if they choose to stay, die within a couple of months. If they choose to leave, they'll die anyway. The problem is lack of drinking water.

The town serves pollutant-free drinking water to the elites who live in the town-centre, guarded by electric fences on all sides. The scavengers live outside the fences whose only source of water is through charity provided by a few kind-hearted elites. They dump the leftover water packets everyday through the charity-doors. Hundreds of scavengers wait at the doorsteps to get hold of them, if they're lucky enough, as they're limited to only a mere hundredish packets a day. The stronger ones always grab them first and the weak ones don't have much of a say.

We have broccoli growing all over this place. Nobody knows how. Some say they're genetically modified. They're abundant like cockroaches, except that they don't move nor bite. They use contaminated water that's available in plenty and have become our main source of food. Once again, for record, I hate broccoli with all my heart.

I've always wanted to leave this town but then, where will I go or what motivation do I have? I'll die here like the others. Nobody will ever know that my name is Mike Glenn.

Just while I'm hiding behind the jagged rocks looking over at the queue of asylum-seekers I hear a cry. I turn to see. It's a young girl being dragged into a dark alley by four stronglings. This is normal on a day like this - sleazy men preying on lone women. No one bothers. No one cares. But I do.

I draw my axe and flex my scrawny biceps. I don't know why I care to show-off my thin arms, but it helps me spring into action. So does my pooch. He thinks he is clever. He mimics all my moves. Bad dog but I love him.

I dash into the alley. The axe in my hand is not sharp enough but it doesn't matter. I need to save the unknown girl from harm's way. The men are ready to pounce on her who is haplessly lying on the ground.

I yell at them. Sometimes I wish I could speak. By the way, where is my pooch? He's cowering behind me now. He has sensed the danger that I'm getting into.

The four men turn toward me. They flex their biceps. Damn! They're not scrawny like mine but now it's too late to backtrack. I hurl my axe at them. They're ten feet away from me but it's a clean blow against the first man's left shoulder. It takes a good three seconds to come to the realization. The man with the axe sticking to his shoulder lets out a cry. His reflexes are slower than a freaking sloth. All eyes are on the axe now. It's tied to a string. And I'm holding the other end of the string. The four men know exactly what I'm gonna do next. I pull the string with such brutal force that in no time the axe is in my hand once again. I can imagine the sheer pain the first man is going through but he deserves it. The other three are not ready to give up. I'm ready for the next blow though.

However the next blow lands on them, not from the front, but from behind. Whack! Crack! The lone girl is not what I expected of her. Moments ago she was crying for help. Was she feigning? But Why? She does a few, quick tricks with her bare but lethal hands. The three men are down in no time.

Wait! Her eyes are drifting towards me now.

Damn! She's starting to approach me. I'm wondering if I shall better run. My pooch is whimpering behind me. The woman and her lethal arms are approaching us.

But then, she smiles. 'You must be Mike', she says casually. My heart stops. I think, 'What the freak!'. 'It's the mole on your cheek', she says, pointing at the heart-shaped birth-mark on my right cheek. I think, 'What the freak!'.

'I know it's weird but I ain't got time to beat around the bush. Everything's in this letter'.

She slips out a creased envelope from her wrinkled sling bag and offers it to me with reverence. She top-ups the surprise gear by closing the ceremony with, 'It's from your mum'. I'm shocked, stunned, flabbergasted etcetera. The only other expression that comes to my mind is, once again, 'What the freak!'.

I'm back in my safe pit which has been my home for several years now. It's a hand dug bunker in the ground - nothing more, nothing less, but it'll do. It has a door on the roof with a glass window. The walls are scruffy and the floor is damp. I'm comfortable here. My pooch is comfortable here. I'm not sure about the girl.

Dear Mike,

Well, I understand how shocking it is to receive a letter from a long last mother. No amount of sorry may ease your anger and pain but I'm sorry, with all my heart. You might not know my name. It's BRENDA MERCELLEZ.

Long story short, you were taken away from me. And I had to stop searching for you to protect your sister. The one who passed you this letter is your sister MIRANDA. I call her Mira. However she doesn't know that you're her brother. Sadly she also doesn't know that I'm her mother. I'd like to keep it this way. Please don't reveal it to her. It's important. I'll explain when I meet you, if you decide to make the journey.

You might have heard about the BRONZIE. There is a prophecy that only the rightful man can pick the Bronzie locket from the Jewel's Den. It's in the same shape as the mark on your cheek. The locket is the only way to solve the drinking water crisis in this world. And only you can get your hands on it.

I know that it sounds absurd. However I'm asking you to take a leap of faith. If you choose to take it, burn this letter first, then go to Mira, and tell her that you're in.

If you choose not to do this, remember that you're still my son. And I'll be thinking about you until I die.

I look at my pooch. He looks at me with his face tilted sideways. Every time he does that it means that I'm about to do something silly.

I throw the letter into the firepit right across the mucky room. My pooch whimpers. The letter incinerates.

After two weeks of journey by foot we finally arrive at the Jewel's Den. I'm skinnier than I was two weeks ago. My pooch is skinnier. Mira is skinnier.

I'm noticing just now. She has the same eyes as mine. Brown and deep. She's not as cool as me though. She's more focused. She's more worried about something else, that I'm not yet aware of.

The Jewel's Den is a cave underground. People call it the Hell's Eye. No one has ever got out, 'cos no one has ever dared to get in. I'm inside already though. I'm alone. My pooch is not with me. He's waiting outside with Mira.

Just as I feared, I hear the sound of something breathing. I freeze like a morning sleet. Maybe it won't spot me if I don't move. 'You can turn now', the old voice whispers in my ears. I turn slowly.

It's a giant tortoise, about 8 feet tall. I spot the heart-shaped locket around its neck. And the tortoise knows that I've spotted the metal locket, 'I've been guarding this locket my whole life'.

His eyes drift towards the mark on my cheek, 'I'm glad that you're finally here'.

Really? That easy? Maybe it's a trick? Maybe not?

The tortoise speaks again, 'I know what you're thinking. You're of course free to take this locket from me. But I must warn you. Your life's not going to be same if you choose to embark on this journey'.

'Why?', I think.

'Humans brought this destruction upon themselves due to greed and ego. This locket holds the answer to reverse everything back to how it was before. But you'll have to make sacrifices along the way. There'll be men ready to crush you for this very locket. There'll be evil wherever you go. Not to mention the black magic. It's so dark that if you don't make the right choices it'll obliterate you and your family. Are you ready to take the task?'.

'I just wanna see my mum. Nothing more nothing less', I think.

'You have a pure heart. Take this with you. And be careful', the giant tortoise hands the locket over to me.

The cave is quiet and peaceful but I can't stand the lingering stench. A peaceful stench though, but I need fresh air. I climb out of the hole. Is it this simple? Why must there be a prophecy in the first place? Anyone could have done this? I take in the fresh air with a sense of achievement. However this newfound sense of achievement doesn't last long as I lay my eyes on two things.

I see Mayor HENDRICKS standing on one side. He is not someone you normally expect to see around. He runs the town like a well-oiled machine. His sharp eyes and over-grown brows are like weapons of destruction.

Lying on the ground on the other side are Mira and my pooch. Both are cocooned inside fibre nets. They are struggling to get out of it but it's not easy. Just as I take everything into my tiny brain to process, one of the hovering drones shoots a fibre net on me. It wraps me into a tight cocoon in a matter of seconds. With a hundred drones flying above us, Hendricks is strongly in command here. No one can protest or say a word against him. He grabs the locket from my neck. How does he know that I have it in the first place? Has he been following us?

He knows that we can't survive in this barren land if left alone. But he leaves. He leaves without saying a single word, along with his hundred drones.

The three of us are surrounded by nothing but vast acres of broccoli. Mira is frustrated. She screams. I'm not screaming. Instead I slit open the cocoon net with a pocket-sized lazer gun. And then I help Mira and my pooch out of their stress.

She doesn't thank me. She bluntly says, 'What's next?'.

'I want you to stay in my bunker with my pooch. His name is BERNARD. Watch him for me, will you?', I try my best to explain through sounds and gestures. But all she hears is a mute person mumbling and rumbling. She says, 'I don't get it'.

Bernard growls at her. She replies to him, 'I don't understand you either'.

Bernard tilts his face sideways.

I take a piece of rock and write the damn words on the ground, 'I'm gonna rattle the cage'.