Forbidden

The metal he gripped in his hand dug into his flesh.

He groaned.

* Beeeeeep!* * Beeeeeep! * * Beeeeeep! *

Herman awakened to the high pitch squeal that introduced the deliriously dull day that was his life. Standing before his bed folding into the wall could knock him off.

Walking to his sink, Herman pressed a button. The mechanical voice told him he was out of water chits. Herman wished he had not enjoyed his lengthy shower last night. With a sigh, Herman stood in front of the wall and waited.

Looking at the locket, he felt the pointed end and traced the rounded circles at the top. Herman didn't know this shape was called a heart. The only shapes he knew were from geometry lessons. Etched into the expensive metal was an intricately designed heart in the center with flowers on either side and fancy scrolls.

Herman manipulated it and fondly remembered his caretaker giving it to him before he left the educational facility. She told him to protect it and make sure no one ever found it.

Owning personal property was against the law. Over the years, Herman had seen what happened to those who kept personal items, not an activity he looked forward to. But, oddly, Herman decided to keep the secret instead of turning his caretaker in as required.

The thumping and clicking of the pipes behind the wall stopped, his fresh set of underwear and key card dropped into the plastic bin.

Herman, now meagerly dressed and feeling slightly more civilized, looked at his key card and saw his number 42. Smiling, Herman was proud; the extra work accomplished gave him a high position today.

Walking out of his D-class room, he proceeded down the hallway, falling into the long line to receive their daily supply. Lined on the wall were sets of pants, shirts, belts, and work boots. When it was Herman's turn, quickly, he picked a set that was not too greasy and not too worn.

Finding gloves and belts was no problem. They had been patched over the years but were sturdy and flexible.

Once dressed for work, he picked up his ID card for the day. He checked the balance; it showed he had no breakfast chit. He walked to the public transport tram. He was in the first 100 and effortlessly found a place to sit. Waiting for the tram to load, he spotted Phil.

Phil was older and sort of an oddball in his community, while others went about their daily tasks content with their lives, Phil wanted more. So he worked hard to get a better room, a breeding partner that did not fill his face with disgust every time he mated with her and always complained how hard the job was on his aging body.

Phil walked over and stood in front of Herman. He gave him a toothy grin. Herman knew this was his cue; he got up and let Phil sit down.

"Thanks," said Phil, as he stretched out in the seat, "It was a hell of a day."

Herman nodded and shifted his weight from side to side. Though his day was tedious, he enjoyed listening to Phil moan, trying to improve his life. Herman knew it would never happen. However, not discouraging Phil with the truth made him feel slightly better about himself.

"I got passed over for the promotion, again," Phil said.

He dreamed about this promotion and what it would bring. A C-class room with comforts, one of them breeding twice a month instead of once Phil did not know; the computer algorithm calculated his date from the job training facility to offset his score of the last 20 years of work by the 2 points he needed to get his promotion.

"You can always turn someone in for committing a crime," Herman said as he gripped his locket uneasily.

Phil laughed, "even if it could raise my score to get a promotion, someone would drop a wrench on my head."

It was true; the last 18 people to turn in community members coincidentally mysteriously had accidental deaths in the workplace.

The joy of their promotion was short-lived.

Herman and Phil were Power Engineers, developing power electronics in a production environment. They were the guys that made sure the power went to the proper facilities and trudged through the tunnel when there were errors. But, of course, a robot would be better suited to perform the job. However, they had decommissioned half of them to ensure that all citizens had jobs, no matter how tedious and dangerous.

Displayed on the 8ft billboard Herman saw on his way to work every day. 'Everyone must pull their fair share.'

Herman endured the feeling of hunger and thirst, trying to concentrate on work instead of his growling stomach. The pleasant ding, ding sound, late in the afternoon, announced the renewal of chits for food and water. Finally, the end of the day arrived. Herman and his fellow workers got back on the tram. Phil asked Herman if he had his chits restocked.

Herman replied, "Yes." with a smile and relief, to be able to eat something after a day and a half.

When the tram stopped, they walked to the canteen. Phil and Herman ordered the only thing on the menu: paste and drink. The paste was full of vitamins and nutrients, everything the body needed. The legend spread through the community was the paste was made from reprocessed food the A-class dining room threw out. Herman and the others in D-class lived on paste, never believing there could be something else.

The TV started announcing the day's propaganda. It featured several reports showing the Triumphant Dome had a lack of food and personal safety. The votes tallied, and the happiest place on the planet was the Commonwealth Dome. Everyone was smiling; this dome was paradise. It had to be accurate; it was on tv.

As the canteen doors opened, everyone stopped and looked at the oddity; a guy was dressed peculiarly in a T-shirt and jeans with skull decals, vastly different from their dull grey and greasy uniforms. As he walked by, the chains around his neck, clinked and the rings reflected the canteen's lighting. Herman thought he was massive. But, contrary to Herman's thoughts, Tristan was only of average build, while the workers, exclusively eating paste every other day, were considerably thin, boney, and fatigued.

As Tristan went to sit at a table, everyone stared at him. What job could this man have, and why would he dress like that. Tristan was wondering how to make the card work to get some food.

Breaking Herman's gaze from Tristan, Phil smacked his shoulder, "Hey," Phil whispered. "I think that guy is from out of the dome."

Herman shrugged; Phil grabbed Herman's arm and led him to Tristan's table.

"Evening," Phil said.

" Hello," said Tristan, distracted by his card, "You wouldn't know how this works, would you?"

Phil pointed to the card reader built into the table, "scan your card over that.:

Tristan scanned his card and heard a ding. He looked up at Phil and Herman, "would you like to join me ?"

"Yeah," said Phil. Then, scanning their cards, he and Herman sat down.

As Tristan opened his wallet, a stream of pictures fell. Phil noticed a photo of a beautiful woman.

"Who's that?" Phil asked, without being able to stop himself.

"That's my wife and kid."

"What's a wife?" asked Phil, "You mean a breeder and offspring?"

"Yes, I breed, and that is our offspring," said Tristan, sarcastically," you guys married"?

"Was the offspring never picked for the educational facility?"

"I try, but her mother keeps bringing her back. No, no kidding. Do you guys have kids?"

"I don't know; we only breed with females once a month."

"That young girl has freckles like you," said Herman.

"Yeah, she has my eyes too, a chip off the old block."

"Where are you from?" Phil asked excitedly.

"I'm from the Triumphant Dome."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm a transporter. I'm only here for a few days. I delivered geothermal power packs and got hit by a bit of sunshine." Tristan said.

Sunshine, caused by the sun's intense heat, turned the desolate and scorching sand into condensed pieces of glass propelled into the stratosphere. Occasionally the clouds part and reveal the light of the sun. The rays shine in many colors and intense heat, like a magnifying glass to an ant. The rays create a high-powered beam of death, which took his unfortunate coworker out and gained Tristan another delivery route.

"You deliver the thermal packs from the volcano," whispered Phil.

"Do all transporters dress like you?" asked Herman.

"No, these are my clothes," said Tristan," we don't have uniforms."

The victualled brought supper over for the three men, set it on the table, and left.

Tristan lifted the tube of paste," what is this?" he asked.

"It's paste," replied Phil. "Haven't you had paste before?"

As Tristan looked over the paste, he touched the end of the tube with his finger and brought it to his mouth; it tasted like runny, fowl eggs. How do they eat this stuff, he thought, trying not to gag.

"So," Tristan asked," aside from the paste, is there anything else on the menu?" Tristan prayed they would say yes.

"No," said Phil, "it's all they have in this canteen.

Tristan nodded in silence. Not having a response, he smiled weakly.

Deciding to break the awkward silence, Herman asked, "I noticed your jewelry,"

Tristan looked at his necklaces. "I pick them up at the dome souvenir shops."

He thought of them little more than trinkets, reminding him of each journey.

Herman openly admired the contraband that Tristan brazenly wore in the open.

"This one," Tristan continued, "my wife gave me."

"She gave you a broken charm?"

"No, she has the other half, and both halves make a heart."

"That's a marvelous gift," said Phil.

"This one," Tristan lifted another charm, "is from my daughter."

"What is that?" asked Phil.

"It's a cloud with a lightning bolt; my daughter wanted me protected on my deliveries."

"A cloud against the sunshine," said Herman.

"Do you want one?" Tristan asked Herman as he saw him coveting the necklaces.

"No, no," Herman said. At being offered sparkling contraband, he quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed him.

Phil asked Tristan, "What did you score to be a delivery driver?"

Tristan looked confused and absent-mindedly asked, "What score?"

"You know, at your educational center," Phil said, confused.

"You mean school; anyone can be a transporter if you have the balls to risk the sunshine."

"So the computer did not choose the job for you?

"Why would a computer choose a job for me?"

He pushed the paste aside, "I need to find my lodging and get settled for the night." Tristan's excuse was to get away from the guys. He was beginning to get creeped out by the conversation of the locals and their strange, colorful terminology.

"Well, lovely meeting you; I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Doubtful, this is our meal for today, and we won't eat tomorrow.

Herman and Phil finished as well and started walking to their assigned dwellings. They stopped at the loaning bar and returned the clothes and tools entrusted before returning to their rooms.

Herman entered his room, deposited his underwear and ID in the receptacle, his bed and desk unfolded from the wall. On his desk, a screen booted up and showed his daily work evaluation. Herman sighed and sat on his bed, looking at his locket. He remembered the woman who gave it to him. She had a cleft chin, like him; though their hair was curly, hers was a different color. I wonder why she gave me this heart, he asked himself for the first time.

He considered taking a shower, but he decided to wait.