The Lighthouse

“Seven… Twelve… Sixteen… Twenty-One… Thirty-Three… Forty-Two.”

Came the crackling monotone voice of the announcer through the rusted loudspeaker. One would think I should be ecstatic that my numbers were selected to win $35,000,000. But that number is just for show because after the government takes off 99% of all income and other fees are paid, the winner only gets $20,000. Should be enough for at least a week’s vacation. I will collect it after my shift today, the winners have forty-eight hours to collect their money before they are presumed unable to collect and a repick is made.

Today they have us down in the sewers fixing damaged piping and replacing old sections. The majority of the population are deemed as labourers and we do whatever the machines are not programmed for. Each day we make $1.00 after the government takes $99.00 off our pay cheques to run the megacity. The city stretches one-thousand kilometers in all directions from the center. Broken up into six separate sections ruled by a governor. There is the residential district on the west side, the biggest of the six, everyone who lives in the city lives within except for the ruling Party who have their own district in the east end, closer to the ocean. Then there’s the industrial sector in the northwest end, manufacturing and warehouses fill the entire sector, this is where everyone who works throughout the day comes to work. Opposite of that to the south end is the entertainment district, only open to the public at night when the industrial district closes down. This district comes alive at night, if they are not pushing the latest in technology and drug advancements, then it’s either a bar or a strip club. Next up is the government district, at the heart of the city, workers of the government Party work like drones in their cubicles monitoring street cameras, money exchanges, even listening in on every phone call and reading every message sent through the only social media platform allowed to operate provided by the ruling Party. Lastly, there is the closed off public service district to the northeast, this section used to contain schools, hospitals, and even home to police stations and fire houses. The Party decided the police and firemen were no longer needed as drones could take care of both needs. The education system was shut down because the Party explained that it didn’t teach proper life skills which all could learn in working in the industrial and entertainment districts. Hospitals were seen as unnecessary since the majority of patients were just prescribed drugs for their ailments. Now the entertainment district provided all drugs someone could ask for. Of course what the Party would not say is how often people…

Psssssssss… Was all the warning we had before one of the pipes exploded. Covering three nearby workers in the toxic chemical that was added to the sewage to break down solids. Their screams were horrifying but were unfortunately nothing new, the shift supervisor radioed in for that section of piping to be shut down for repair, unfortunately for the three it was already too late. It was a bitter reminder of how dangerous the job of a labourer was in the industrial sector. Any accident would more than likely result in a fatal outcome. Of course this wasn’t the supervisor’s fault that an old pipe gave out during the shift, but he would be severely punished as per the letter of the law set down by the Party later tonight. We probably will not see him at work tomorrow… or for a while longer. As the shift grew closer to the end, everyone punched out on time and through the loud speaker, the monotone voice came on, calling the supervisor to go see head office before leaving.

Time to go collect my winnings. We didn’t have to pay for rent, as the cold apartments were provided for us by the Party. One cannot own a vehicle, and there is no insurance to buy into, really there’s not much to spend money on. Except for in the entertainment district or buying luxury foods and beverages like meat, fresh fruits, milk, pop, or the really expensive addons like butter, salt, or pepper. Of course the Party didn’t let us starve, we were given water and rationed bread, pasta, and potatoes. The bread always tasted a bit past its prime though.

I know exactly what I want to spend this money on, we aren’t given days off, we must buy days off as that’s one less day of someone working and one less day of someone being productive. $1000 per day off times seven for a week. $10,000 for transportation to and from the beach, with the final $3000 tucked away for luxury items. Already putting my payment down for the days off and transportation, my vacation begins at the end of the week.

One might wonder how the world I live in became like this. After the Great War which left billions dead, the world’s governments banded together to put an end to all wars. Thus the megacities were created, each being self efficient and self governed by a single Party. Ours was the biggest of the eight megacities. We stopped burning fossil fuels to prevent climate change, the parties did not want nuclear power to be an option, so we run on very limited solar and wind energy, only enough to supply three districts with power, they switch the third between the industrial and entertainment district while keeping the government and rich districts running full time. No heat is generated for the residential district, only electric trams are used for transportation and bicycles if one can afford either of those. Renting private transportation and a ticket out of the city? The $20,000 would cover these expenses, but for those that never win, it’s all a pipe dream. Most who do blow all of it on the entertainment district.

As the week came to an end, we never did see the supervisor come back to work yet and there have not been any more fatal accidents on our crew. When the end of shift bell came, it was time to collect my packed clothing and other items to head for the beach.

During the drive, I asked the driver how often did people leave the city. “Not very regular for one from the residential district to use my services out of the city limits, but the rich folk in the eastern district hire private transportation regularly,” he replied with a hoarse voice, a result from years of labour work and near-accidents. Other than this being his job, I knew the driver couldn’t even afford any of these trips himself, he was stuck in the same boat the rest of us from the residential were.

The drive took sixteen hours from the residential district to the beach. There were not many other vehicles left on the roads and they were fairly straight forward, so the driver was able to ramp us up to 160km/hr at some parts of the trip. I could smell the beach before I could see it, the scent was stronger than any smell back home. The driver mentioned something about the washed up shellfish creating a unique smell when cleaned by the ocean’s salty water. Apparently the ocean was too salty for anyone to drink, but when my eyes lay upon it, it spread as far as the eye could see before disappearing into the blue of the sky.The skyscrapers in the megacity prevented people from seeing very far unless one were to have a penthouse view of the city, but even then, the state of it was probably not much to look at. But this view, there was not a single building in sight. I noticed the seagulls from when they’d come further inland in search of scraps of food.

It has been a long day however, the driver helps set up a tent for me and stays for the night. He has to return to work and will not be back until it’s time to return me back to the city after the week is up. This is where I can sleep during the next week and explore during the day. The next morning, the driver bids me farewell and begins his journey back to the city. The first day I spent the morning exploring before wading out into the ocean until it was up to my neck. I had no idea how to swim as there was no place to swim back home, but the salty water did feel nice cleaning my skin. Losing track of time, the sun begins to dip over the west, the light causes a glass from what looks to be a building up on the hillside overlooking the northside. The structure was tall and narrow, maybe I should check it out tomorrow when there’s more daylight.

Heading back for camp, sleep doesn’t come easy, no one mentioned that there might be surviving structures of the old world left out here. What purpose could that structure even serve so high up? Maybe it was some sort of observation tower left over from the war. It took a few hours for sleep to finally claim me.

The next morning, I head up to the building. Overlooking the ledge, there’s sharp rocks down below. The old door doesn’t give much resistance as I snap it off its hinges. Perhaps I should be careful climbing the stairs of such an old building. After a bit of careful climbing, I reach the top, all these stairs for a single room with what looks to be a giant mirror and a big light bulb sits idly in the center of the room. Next to it is an old wooden chair and a table with an old dusty book on it, a little black leather book and the spine of it seems quite damaged. Sitting down into the chair, I pick up the book and hear a loud rumbling noise in the distance. Skimming through the book, it seems to detail different historic events, and upon the final pages I see the book describes exactly what happened to me up to this point and a little extra. The extra bit mentions the end of the world. Another loud rumbling sound, this time I can feel the building violently shaking. Looking outside the broken glass windows, I can see the land to the west crumbling down into the Earth. “What?” I say out loud even though no one is nearby to hear me. Frantically skimming through the pages of text, I read how the world is coming to an end like it was the end of someone’s story. Reading the final line of text, my heart sank. It took me a moment to notice there was another blank page after it. Untouched, almost new looking and I did not notice the pen next to the book earlier. I wonder if I could write something down and change events before it’s too late? One sentence down and the rumbling noises suddenly pause.

The realization hits me like a rock to the gut. If my world is a story, then I can shape it how I please with this pen. However, I only have a single page to work with. Will it end after the page is filled? The questions fly through my mind as I try to think of something to write. What would the reader of my book write to make it continue? Would they want this world to even continue or would they end it? Would they change history or change the future? I am at a loss for ideas here. Then it hits me, I know exactly what to write to fix this...