The Time Before

Much is unknown about the time before. There was a horrific plague. A global pandemic nearly wiped-out vast nations, dwindling its population to sparse amounts of isolated people throughout. The immune people known as the Elites banded together. The Elites share a genetic component that saved humanity from becoming extinct. I am one of them. It was our duty to continue to survive and repopulate the world. It was our duty and our honor to do so.

I live in the colony of California. Where sunshine and the ocean are never far, but I have never actually seen the ocean for myself; nor will I ever as we live underground. My experiences are limited to video clips on a computer that only allow me a glimpse of how it is on the surface. That is the extent of all I know. Video clips here and there. Knowledge is something I value, and my curiosity knows there is more, but I am unable to do much to access anything beyond the colony.

We are assigned to our dorms before the age of 3; when we are moved into these dwellings to grow up with our sibling groups. Each floor is run by a group of caregivers. They are responsible for making sure we are safe, well and educated. Sibling groups are expected to do everything together, and every moment of our day is planned. We are considered equal in all things amongst our peers. We remain together until such time we are assigned our partners; where we are expected to procreate, and beyond that our career paths.

My name is Kylia, I am 17 years old, and I have a secret. Hidden below my sleeping pod, I have the most beautiful heart-shaped locket. The silver is tarnished, and the once ornate design engraved into the metal has dulled over time. Inside is a faded picture of a girl who could be me. We are so alike, that in another life we might have been twins. Only she is not me. She is a girl who grew up in the time before. Her journal details the horrific past, and even though the pages are frayed and tattered, it is something I treasure the most in my life. Her story needs to be heard, and I will be the one to hear it. Every night, I wait until my siblings sleep and read it in my bunk by the dimmed night-light in my sleeping pod.

I gaze up at the overhead clock. The countdown to lights-out displayed in large green numbers T-10 minutes until I can steal myself away to my pod and be alone with my thoughts and my treasures. Am I the only one that has such things? I cannot even recall when I found them, but the thick layer of dust settled into the silk fabric wrapped around them, indicates they had been there for some time before I discovered them.

Lost in thought, I jump as the alarm sounds. The group of caregivers wandering through the rows of sleeping pods; giving us a gentle nudge to bunk down for the night. I push the button and the side of the pod raises. I climb in under the covers, pulling them tight around me. My caregiver leans in, kisses my forehead as she always does and closes the pod from the outside. She repeats this with every sibling in my row until we are all tucked in for the night. As the caregivers exit the room, the safety lights are triggered to illuminate the path to the washroom in case we need it in the night.

Each pod is equipped with a dimmed night-light. When I was younger, I could not sleep without it. Now, it is supposed to only be used when needed. Some of my siblings will read their e-readers after lights out when they cannot sleep, and they use it for additional lighting to prevent unnecessary eye strain. I use it only when I know that no one around me can see what I am doing through the little window on the pod. That is when I sneak the hidden treasures out to peruse them. Oh, how I long to be free enough to wear the beautiful heart-shaped locket out in the open, but that is likely never to happen. Here we are not free. Here we are controlled at all times. From birth until death.

I roll onto my abdomen and kick my legs up behind me grasping the locket in my hand. Its smooth exterior so familiar to me now. The large clock displays 2345. Feeling rather tired from the day, I fight to keep my eyes from closing to no avail, and I drift off to sleep. It is not long before I find myself dreaming. I dream of a cloth mask covering my face, and people all around me coughing and gasping for air. There are beds lined up in closely packed rows. These are the wards for those who are terminal. I slip my arms through a disposable gown, covering my blue colored uniform. I don the disposable gloves and tend to the ill. I find it hard to breathe through the mask, and saliva pools in my mouth. It leaves a bitter after taste, like the tangy metallic of blood. I too am dying, but until I draw my last breath, I will care for these people.

I bolt upright in my bunk, gasping for air. My hand involuntarily traces the outline of my throat, and I realize it was only a dream. I glance at the clock, 0300 hours, and I mentally note how odd the preciseness of the time is. I lie back against the dorm issued mattress, retrieving the journal to read it. Tomorrow is a new day. A day I must use to uncover more details of the past. I must find out all I can about this mystery girl.

The alarm sounds, and slowly we emerge from our pods. One by one, we line up to wait our turn to ready ourselves for the day.

My first hour assignment is library. Here is my opportunity to research. Strictly in secret, as it is forbidden. My plan is to display a lesson as a cover for what I really have planned for the day. If a caregiver happens upon my station, they likely will never know. Luckily, I am seated in the last row. The row that is often overlooked.

As I settle in, I click on the archives to search the trail. Detailed pictures and biographies of millions of people are contained within these files. People long forgotten. My eyes widen as I see her image. It was as if I were staring at myself in the mirror. My heart races as I open the file.

ELIZABETH ANGELIQUE, 22 YEARS.

B-2022 D-2044.

OFFICIAL DEATH REPORTED AS ACUTE RESPIRATORY DISTRESS W/ POSSIBLE VARIANT INFECTION.

ACTUAL DEATH EXTERMINATION.

HEALTHY INFANT DAUGHTER REMOVED AND PLACED IN TEMPORARY INCUBATION POD DORMITORY.

TO BE PLACED BEFORE 3 IN CALIFORNIA COLONY BUILDING A, DORM 107.

I audibly gasp and feel my chest tighten. Instinctively, I know it is me. I am the infant in the file. But why was she exterminated? What could she possibly have done to deserve death? I had so many questions that I knew would never be answered. The journal and the locket were the only remaining connection I had to my mother.

The rest of the schedule was merely a distracted blur; sullenly going through the motions of the tedious routine. I longed for lights-out, to retreat into the pages of the journal, and I prayed the pages within would reveal all I needed to know. I glance around at my siblings during the remaining moments of the recreation hour and realize how content they all seemed to be. Why am I always so restless? Why can I not ever accept that this is the way it is meant to be? I am not like them, and I believe I have always known this. But I do not know why that is.

When the alarm sounds for lights-out, I practically race to my sleeping pod and dive right into my bunk. I wait patiently for the caregivers to finish their routine and listen for the last footstep to echo off in the distance as they exit the hall. This time, I do not care to wait for my siblings to sleep. I carefully reach below me, pull the contents from its hiding place, and conceal it beneath my blanket. I care not that I barely have enough light to read, as I read the last remaining words of its contents.

My darling Kylia,

If you have made it this far, there is much you need to know. You have a loving mother and father. I was not lucky enough to escape the regime, and as time draws near to your birth, so too does my death. They will not let me live beyond your birth. You must find a way to escape their clutches and reunite with your father. He awaits your return and will do all he can to bring you back home. With that, you must understand what has been hidden about the plague.

Society was advanced enough to save its people, and yet it did not. Our ancestors followed blindly like cattle to the slaughter; believing that their best interests were being met by the very people they put in power. But that simply was not true. Far from it. A far more sinister plot came to play, and it took decades for that plot to reveal itself. In fact, those secrets were buried deep.

Advanced expedited vaccinations were developed by competing companies in an attempt to halt the progression and cure this deadly illness. An illness that suffocated the alveoli and stole the ability to breathe. Many died while life saving measures were implemented. Trial and error treatments proved to be fatal in the long run. This plague claimed the lives of many; far and wide.

It is believed that this disease was not an accident but a planned coup by a corrupt government to gain control of the world. The final death toll is unknown. Countries burned the remains of the deceased to prevent further spread. The stench of death polluted the air, as a dark veil overshadowed the people of the world.

The aftermath was almost a complete decimation of the world as it was known. The pollution was so bad, that populations had to retreat to underground colonies to stay alive. That is where you are now, and where you were born. People like your father and I were shunned and banished to the surface to die. When they found out I was with child. I was captured and forced to live in the colony until your birth, where I will be killed. You were conceived in love and deserve to be free.

Love Always,

Your Mother

As I try to absorb it all, tears form in the wells of my eyes. It hits me that I was right all along, and I did in fact not belong here. Never did. My place was with my father, but there was no way of knowing if he was still alive, or if there was even a way to get out. I latch the heart-shaped locket upon my neck. Fight back the tears, and gaze to look out the window of my pod only to see my caregiver looking right back at me. In that moment I knew it was her who had risked it all to give me the greatest gift…my parents.

With no time to waste, I fill my pack, and steal off into the night, making my way through the labyrinth. When I reach the outside hatch, I struggle with the lever. With firm pressure it yields and at long last I am finally free.