The Last Red

Chapter 3: The Ranking

I quickly inspect the now-renewed tan on my arms as I stand in line to receive my nutrition pill for the day - one of the very last meals I'll ever have in the block. 

Admittedly, it's much easier to consume a pill to satisfy daily hunger urges than it is to catch and grill a phigee. 

But I can't be picky - phigees are the only nutrition that exists in the Wild, unless you go to the East. There's a lot of vegetation there as it has a much warmer climate.

Not many fruits can survive the cold of the rest of the planet.

But I've never ventured East - it's a very dangerous territory, guarded with patrolling drones that shoot intruders on sight.

Many rogues died trying to breech it. 

So I just settled on hearing descriptions of different tastes of various fruits my parents have tried in their lives as rogues.

I take two steps forward as the line slowly clears.

"Please scan your wrist to receive your diet pill," Omnia instructs as I approach the nutrition dispensers.

I oblige and a clear bluish pill falls into my palm.

I retrieve a tiny metal cup of water dispensed from the left side of the machine and send the pill down my throat.

The adjacent opening lights up, waiting for my cup to be placed back for washing before being re-used. I watch the container holding the pills and wonder if I could break it somehow before escaping to steal some for Keet...

"Gonna swallow anytime soon?" I hear a sarcastic remark behind my back.

"Chill," I tell her, then put the cup down. The opening closes, then reopens with a clean cup on offering.

"Please scan your wrist to receive your diet pill," it speaks again for other people to approach.

As water isn't much dispersed in the Wild, rogues usually settle within a walking distance to some. Phigees need it to survive as well, so inhabiting an area close to it is vital for survival.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I still have the skills needed to survive in the Wild. I'll have to find clay to make pottery for storing water, make a sharp ended stick out of wood for hunting phigees, and use my ethnicity camouflage strategies, all the while hiding from Keet and Kory. 

I guess now the three of us will have a tribe of our own. Most rogues form one - a person would go mad living alone in the Wilderness.

I know I almost did.

My mother often told me to join Base O if something ever happened to them. She said I'd be safe there. At least for a few years.

And I was.

But she couldn't have known where I'd be transferred afterward. 

In Base O I excelled at Biotechnology. I've always been curious as to why I'm not of the same ethnicity as everyone else, so it's no surprise I took a special interest in the genetics field.

In the end, I got sent here to work as a programmer in the Genetics Department.

I wonder what block my parents escaped from... I wish I was older back then and knew more about the planet, so that I could've asked more questions. 

I remember both of them had big scars on their wrists - ones they earned themselves removing their implanted chips.

And I know I have to do the same. 

I look at my wrist, my throat suddenly feeling dry - I can't seem to reconcile with parting ways with my Om. 

I'm going to miss her so damn much.

"Watch it!" I get shoved, but as I turn I notice it's Keet.

He laughs at me. "Got ya."

I squint in suspicion. "You look awfully happy with yourself. You either fell in love again or you got Kriss on the team."

He purses his cupid-shaped lips proudly. "We both know it's the latter."

I nod in respect. "How many bottles did you have to give him for that?" 

"One too many. The boy's so hooked on morphine, he'd disable the whole God-damn reboot if I gave him enough."

I press my lips in pity. I know many inmates are addicted to drugs, because Keet's been using his mixing skills to make new friends for ages. 

"We don't need that," I shake my head. If he did it, they'd know it was on purpose. "We don't want anyone to get downgraded because of us." 

I have too much blood on my hands as it is.

"I know- Ow!" he shouts as someone collides with us, but before we can see who did it, the mass pushes us toward the Yard Area.

"Just lovely," Keet hisses sarcastically. He hates the Yard.

He gets angry looking at my laughing self. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I say chuckling. "Guess we'll catch some fresh air before going to sleep."

"Girl," he frowns. "You wanna catch some air, go inhale the oxygen from your pod. Ain't no fresh air out there."

Wrong. 

"I was raised in the Wild." My lungs evolved to be able to survive those conditions.

"Dust for you... Heaven for moi," I show off my phigee-eating teeth with pride.

He twists his lips. "God damn rogue..."

"Hey!" I admonish him, amused, because I know he said it out of love. "You should train your lungs, too."

He shakes his head with a grimace. "I'm giving it five minutes tops. And it's just to keep you company."

Just as we approach the exit, the crowd clears as people turn left and right. Not many continue our way. Inmates don't like to frequent the Yard. 

Omnia constantly reminds us to purify our lungs with clean oxygen from our pods, so the yard's dusty air doesn't sound like a smart idea.

I, on the other hand, make sure I come to breathe in some red dust at least twice a week, so my lungs don't get too spoiled and fail me once I start my run.

Survival of the fittest...

We scan our wrists and I take a deep breath the moment a thin glass door slides to let us out and my feet touch a mix of red sand and brown gravel, creating a crunchy sound.

Almost feels like home.

The yard's around two acres, surrounded by a grey electrified fence standing at around 500 feet tall.

I look up to the clear blue sky. The Sun's strong today.

"Perfection," I mumble to make Keet laugh.

"I don't know why I even like you," he purses his lips, "You're such a weirdo."

I chuckle as we take a seat far away from the door and scan the people around us. When we're not all running around, it's easier to recognize a familiar face.

Most of them have their eyes glued to holograms projected from chips under their wrist skin, silently mumbling instructions to Omnia.

We all religiously check our health statistics, work contribution, and athletic results to see how we rank among the million of other inmates. The first thousand get all kinds of perks, like shorter wait times, bigger sleep pods closer to the ground, and more free time to work on their bodies. If you rank in the top 100, you get two free days per month instead of one.

I never strived to be in the top thousand if for nothing else, then simply the fact that being extraordinary means being different. And I sure as hell don't want to have that word glued on my forehead.

"Show me Athletic Results," Keet brings his wrist out and Omnia displays his statistics. He's ranked at #906.877. That's about the crappiest ranking you can get. And the sole reason he's escaping. He knows he has no chance of being transferred to a better block.

I open my own only for a moment, showing #5.023. I climbed two spots since yesterday. I switch it off before Keet can see it. He'd find it suspicious I'm escaping with a ranking that high.

A girl next to us pries into Keet's hologram with her curious eyes.

"Do you mind?" he says, slightly irritated as she locks eyes with his ranking.

"Just wanted to help," she lifts a shoulder. "I can hook you up with my good friend Kimberly Teagan," she shows a set of perfect teeth, "y'know, to help you get an athletic upgrade."

A block girl. Born and raised. They're always easy to spot.

"I'm assuming this Kimberly is ranked well?" he asks, unbothered.

Normally, he'd jump to an opportunity to improve, but given the fact we're leaving in four days, his incentive has faded. 

She chuckles. "Just tell Om to show you the number 52 and you'll see all there is to know."

Our jaws drop.

It's rare to train with one of the top 100 unless you're a top athlete as well. They only do it if they need to earn extra points for community service. Which means her friend messed something up.

In any case, I'm definitely not interested in athletic upgrades. I purposely underperform at most matches anyway.

"I might be interested..." Keet says and my head shoots towards him in shock.

"What?" he whispers. "I'd like to have a plan B if our mission goes to shit."

Suddenly, the girl's wrist beeps. "Reminder," Omnia announces, "Your Ability Screening starts in thirty minutes." 

"Oh, crap," she quickly stands up, dusting off her pants. "Is that already?"

I frown. "You're going to the A.S. now?"

She nods, looking quite scared. 

"No hooking up with Kimberly, then, I'm afraid," I whisper to Keet - no one comes back after their Screening.

"Good luck," he tells her.

"I'm ranked at number 84," she gives us a subtle yet judgmental scan from head to toe. "I don't think I need luck."

And then we watch her pompous self rush back to the exit.

"Everyone needs luck," Keet hisses, a little upset. "Who knows what they test inside?"

But I don't pay attention to his words. I know it's hard for him to accept the fact his low ranking is based solely on his performance.

No one knows exactly what happens behind the Screening Door, but it is 'common knowledge' that they test your DNA and physical and mental competencies.

In any case, there's only one thing I should focus on right now: I'm running low on tanning lotion and I need to collect some minerals from the soil to make a new one.

I take a small bottle out of my pocket and place it close to the ground as I remove its cap. Then I slowly garner some sand into it, carefully watching Keet doesn't notice.

Other ingredients I use, I procure from the Cosmetics Department. I could get them off of Keet as well, but that'd only make him suspicious.

So, I've ensured to have my contacts in the Cosmetics Dpt instead, by endulging in innocent flirtation every other month. I'll stop by there tomorrow.

So what? A bit of flirt never produced any children, has it?