The Best Life in Lowton

The fire cracked and popped in the broken and crumbled hearth. A child swaddled themself in a tattered blanket against the chill of the drafty shack while smoke from the burning refuse stung the eyes and cloyed at the nostrils. The crackles and pops of the fire disrupted the whistling of the wind through the broken walls and the low rumble of hunger that coursed through the girl. Outside on the streets, people scurried past in the night, with their heads cast down as they hurried about their business. The girl shivered and shifted closer to the sputtering fire and stared into the flames hoping that the noises and hunger would burn away if she gazed long and hard enough. Despite the smoke stinging her eyes as she watched the flames, something stirred in her stomach. At first, she thought it was just hunger, but there was something different about it. It felt familiar and new at the same time, like a secret she had forgotten.

A long creak disrupted her thoughts. In the corner of the small room, her grandfather stirred awake. Hope held her breath and wished for luck that he would think she was out. She hadn’t found any food while scavenging that day and couldn’t bear to tell him there was nothing to eat yet again.

The old man stretched and let out a low whistle. “Good morning, Hope. The sun feels wonderful today.” He smiled while scratching himself with a rusty fork.

Hope turned towards him and shuddered as his milky eyes reflected the flames, giving them an eerie red glow in the dim light. “Did you sleep ok, Grandpa?” The girl whispered tentatively, unsure which man she would speak with that night.

The man turned his blind eyes to the girl and contorted his mouth into a broken smile full of rotten teeth. He rummaged in his blanket and found a small trinket that reflected glints of dim light. Calmed to be holding his small bauble, he settled back in his chair with another loud creak bringing the object close to his nose as though studying it. “Do you know what your name means? It means to believe against all odds that something better is coming.”

“Pop, there isn’t anything else. This is it.” Hope said flatly.

For a long moment, he was silent and still in the night, then he crooned softly, “Can you hear it, Hope?” He turned his head towards the broken window. “Can you hear the ticking?” “Can you hear them?” His eyes closed, and he settled even deeper into his rocker.

Hope held her breath for a long moment until her grandfather began to softly snore. She turned back to the fire and settled in for a long cold night, and eventually, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

A few hours later, the back of a wrinkled hand caressed her cheek, and Hope’s eyes flicked open. The acrid smell of burning hair hung in the air, and a plate with meager bits of cooked meat was sat on the hearth next to her head. Her grandfather grinned at her, “Morning, Hope. The trap caught breakfast, and I cooked it for us.” The old man seemed lucid today; maybe he would finally answer some of the questions that weighed heavy in Hope’s heart.

“Pop-pop,” she started hesitantly, “Sometimes when you are here but gone, you ask if I can ‘hear them ticking?’ what does that mean? And what is that thing you keep in your hand all the time?”

“Eat your food before it gets cold.” He said softly, as he turned away from her, “You don’t want to be late for the morning scramble.”

She shoveled the scraps of meat in her mouth as she tried not to swallow the tiny bones of whatever rodent it used to be. Hope looked to her patriarch and said, “Pops, look, I know you see me as a kid, but you’re getting worse, and I’ll age up soon.” Hope noticed the air go still as her grandfather froze for a minute, and she continued, “I really just need to know before you can’t tell me. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Hope tied her ragged old blanket into a makeshift sling and crawled out through the hole in the door that had been boarded over long ago. As she crawled out into the alleyway, Hope looked to the end of the street. The people that trudged by kept their eyes cast down at their feet as they hurried for work or home. The buildings of the upper cities had been built over the bones of Lowton, casting the lower levels in perpetual dusk. Only the scantest rays of light finding its way to ground level through the structures and smog of the cities above.

Most mornings, Hope would spend a minute trying to find the sky, but that day was a dump day, and if she wanted to find anything that she could eat or trade, she would have to beat the other Scavs to it. She took a quick right over the debris of the collapsed building she lived in, cut through the winding alleys, and came to the nearest waste process pipe. The pipes were supposed to be sealed as they transported the refuse from the upper levels out to a processing plant where the materials would be separated, cleaned, and remade into goods that went back to upper levels. Scavs like Hope found weak points in some of the pipes that didn’t set off alarms. These spots could be broken into without the Evers knowing, as long as too much wasn’t taken. No one cared about Scavs. It was like they were invisible. Either too young, too old, or too sick to count, Scavs had to rely on each other to survive.

Hope was the first at the breach, exposing the hole by removing a dirty tarp. Not long after, a boy a year older who wore a shirt the name ‘Tex’ embroidered on a pocket joined her in waiting, followed by two elders. Hope nodded to each newcomer in turn, both acknowledging the number of raiders and establishing the pecking order following Scav custom prioritizing youth and early arrival. After a few minutes, grinding could be heard in the pipe that ascended into the upper levels, and the low hum of the conveyor belt at the bottom of the trash chute began to hum. Hope and the other Scavs lined up and soon started grabbing a few treasures. As first in line, Hope was able to nab some expired sandwiches, a pill bottle, a half-empty jug of liquid, a torn knit sweater and quickly put them into her makeshift side bag. For a moment, she wistfully watched the bounty in front of her and thought of taking one more treasure. Hope glanced at the others and realized that they were already close to risking a pipe audit; which could lead to the breach being sealed. She sighed and signaled an end to the raid for the day and replaced the tarp upside down to tell other Scavs that this pipe had been picked. Once the breach was concealed, Hope caught the eyes of the others once more and nodded in the direction she would leave in, and turned to go. She knew that after her, the others would do the same, each choosing a different path.

She followed a narrow passage down to a busy road that intersected to the street that she and her grandfather called home. Out on the street, she could hear the steady drum from the feet of the people as they hurried to their destinations and the soft chirp of the ES watches. She took a moment to admire the smooth round chips that were implanted in the arms of passersby. Too late, Hope realized she had been still too long, and a sound of heavy boots approached her from behind.

An Ever had targeted the girl, and as the woman enforcer approached, she pulled out her crop and barked, “ES?”

Being small and typically quick, Hope had never been stopped before, but she had seen it enough to know how to respond “I'm ten,” she declared.

“We’ll see about that,” the Ever said and placed the flat of her crop against Hope’s cheek. A flash of light went off and the woman pulled the device back to better see the display at the handle. While the Ever waited for a readout, she looked over Hope and her blanket bag, “A Scav, huh?” she said softly. The crop buzzed as the results came through and the Ever glanced at it, “Molar scan says you’re 12 years 9 months. You are old enough to get an ES by dispensation, and I’m obligated to tell you that you aren’t legally bound to get one until you are 13 and 1 day. I can take you to Recruiting and you can get real work; if you like.”

The woman’s voice was soft, and it sounded like she really wanted to help, but Hope knew her grandfather was waiting, so she shook her head.

“Ok, sweetie,” the woman said, “but if you change your mind, all you need to do is tell an Ever it’s time.”

Hope nodded and took off running for home.

Once safely inside, she dropped her garbage in the hall and went right to her grandfather sitting in his chair. “Pop-pop,” she said breathless with anticipation and hoped that he was still aware, “I’m old enough. I can work for real. We don’t need to be hungry anymore. I can take care of us.”

The old man silently rocked for a long minute, rubbing the trinket in his hand. “Look out the window, Hope, and tell me what you see.” He whispered.

With a huff, she went to the window, “I see people.” She said flatly. “They have ES’s. They have places to be, I guess?”

“Look at their faces.” He commanded.

Hope watched for what seemed like an eternity, but nothing stood out, “I don’t see anything.” she said, annoyed. “What is this about?” she asked.

“The ES Watch. Hope, what do you think they do?” Her grandfather needled.

“They tell you where and how to work, give access to food rations, and housing rations. It means you aren’t a Scav. They make you a person.” Hope responded her voice reverent and wistful.

“No.” The old man asserted, “All those people out there, are machines with men faces. Those damn devices are Evaluation Switch watches, and they tell you when to work, and sleep, eat, and how to breathe, and if you deviate from that schedule or get sick or look up for too long, it punishes you. Sometimes the punishment is losing rations, sometimes it’s worse.” The man rolled back his sleeve to show a scar from when his own ES had determined he was too sick to produce more than it cost to keep him alive and detonated per normal operating procedure. He clutched the trinket in his right hand. “Your mother wanted more than this for you.” The man brought the item to his lips, kissed it gently, and held it out to his grandchild. “She wanted you to have this. It was my wife’s greatest treasure.”

An object unlike anything Hope had seen with a long curling chain and a heart-shaped trinket, both made of a pale silver metal clung to his frail fingers and glittered in the light cast by the embers of last night’s fire. She took it gingerly from him and turned it over in her hands noticing a slit along the side. The young girl pried at the crevasse and the object flipped open revealing an old image of a gentle-looking woman. Inside the heart-shaped locket across from the woman in tiny letters was inscribed the words ‘For the best life, all you need is Hope.’