Michelle Muckley - The Dawn - The Bombs Fall

Quiet. So quiet that Zack could hear breathing all around him. Maybe it was just his own.

Daley Cartwell held up a finger, pointed it in the direction of every set of eyes on Delta level twenty five, and Zack imagined, every set of eyes in New Omega outside the ivory tower. He was looking at each and every one of them.

Let us find you.

The numbers on Zack’s wrist felt hot with excitement, so much so that they were pulsating. There were deep breaths coming from left and right as if the whole room had been gripped in a meditative state, broken only as the next set of adverts kicked in. Blood transfusions. Special offer, now only eighty credits. Scabies treatment, fifteen credits, also reduced. They know there will be disappointments. People had to fall back into reality but Omega knew how to cushion the blow.

Can you tell us what this lottery meant to you? Daley Cartwell was talking again, leaning in close to a healthy looking woman, his forehead almost resting against the side of her temple in sympathy for the horror that he was asking her to recall. In your own words.

Everybody focussed again. The commercials were over.

Yes, Daley. Before, life was very hard in Alpha Tower. Some days there was no food. When my number was drawn out, I knew I was being given an opportunity to help my people, to help them grow, and to provide for their future. I have worked to help improve the food supplies for all towers. My Tower is still my responsibility.

Controlled applause in Omega. Silence in Delta, save the occasional late comer still shuffling into the room at the back. A few people were confused, trying to remember if the food had ever been worse. More music. Most of the Omega crowd looked on with smug half smiles. Zack saw one of them wipe away a tear. The camera paid her particular attention.

And you, fellow citizen. Daley Cartwell worked his way along the five previous winners on the stage. A man, big and strong, healthy looking in a way that didn’t seem normal to Zack anymore. Can you tell us what being selected means to you?

“I wish they would just get on and announce it,” Leonard said as he stuffed the last chunk of bread into his mouth. “I can’t take this much longer.” He scratched at his armpits, and Zack inched away.

Yes, Daley. Gamma isn’t able to produce much for themselves that benefits the residents directly, and we were a small tower with little space for comfort. There was almost no privacy. This made rationing a complicated matter. Because of Omega I have been able to play my part in resolving this issue. My Tower is still my responsibility.

Zack noticed that both of the previous winners had excellent teeth. They smiled from atop a special platform which seemed to house all five previous winners. Each of them was smiling, except for when one of them spoke. When they spoke it was always about the difficulty of their old life in their old tower. Nobody in Delta knew what having a winner felt like. Would it really mean improved conditions for the rest of the tower?

“I’d improve the clothes,” said Zack. “It gets so cold in here because it’s huge, and nobody has enough to wear. Nothing fancy, I don’t mean for us all to look like Omega.”

“I’d give everybody scabies treatment,” said Leonard, still scratching. “And there is no point looking at me like that, or moving further away. If I’ve got it, you’ve got it too.”

Next they showed the room. All white. It was large in comparison to anything in Delta, white, clean walls with not a mark on them, and a whole wall of windows. Zack saw the new sky programme playing. It was a clear night sky, full of stars. They twinkled like sun drenched diamonds refracting light in a million directions. Zack allowed himself a wish, even though he knew they weren’t real. The bed was a large single, wider than his. The mattress looked plump and there was a bag of linen at the end of the bed.

This is where our winner will sleep, but not before spending time in our state of the art health facility, where he or she will receive a full medical and dental appraisal, all with the full compliments of our great president.

The cameras cut to President Grayson again. He was sitting with a humble look on his face, his eyes downcast and lips pursed together. The excitement of the crowd intensified in both Omega and Delta towers when he appeared on the screen. Zack was distracted by Leonard’s continued irritations with his skin. He had started scratching at his ribs again. Intermittently he would stop, stare at the wrist of his right hand to look at his numbers. Zack could see his lips moving, mouthing them over and over as if in a moment of silent prayer. As Zack looked around the room he could see lots of people checking their wrists as if they didn’t already know their numbers off by heart. He thought of Ronson, in his bar none the wiser about what was happening above ground. If Zack won tonight he would be unlikely to ever see him again, and it made him regret that he hadn’t offered him more the last time they were together.

Ladies and gentlemen, there is no more time for delay. The lottery of the people is coming to you tonight. Tonight one of you becomes the future. You become your neighbour’s future. One of you becomes the winner. Let’s make that happen, right here, right now!

Zack was near-deafened by applause so loud that nobody could hear their nearest neighbour. Zack was on his feet cheering, throwing off whoops and yeahs in all directions, celebrating with people at his side and behind him who he had never met before. Somebody was rubbing his shoulder. The crowd was energised, smashing into each other like charged atomic particles. Fusion. That’s what happened the last time the world ended. A few people began to sit, others remained standing. It took a while for Zack to take his seat on the bench, and next to him Leonard still looked like he was praying. His hands were clasped together, knuckles white, jaw tight and set in place. It seemed like the organisers of the lottery and the citizens of Omega must have expected the commotion because when the din finally passed and people sat in their seats, the programme didn’t appear to have moved on at all.

“What do you think, Zack?” Leonard reached over, placed one of his sweaty palms on Zack’s hand. “Do you think it really could be one of us?” Zack wasn’t paying attention, even though Leonard was shouting over the noise of the crowd to be heard. His eyes were set firmly on the television set, waiting for the draw to start. Once Daley Cartwell started talking again a hiss whipped around the room, and soon all was quiet. There was a ringing in Zack’s head, loud like the beat of a drum, a fizzing in his ears. He wasn’t used to noise anymore. People stayed quiet now. There was little in the way of conversation or excitement in Delta tower, and when suddenly it was everywhere it created a sensory overload.

“Shush,” Zack muttered, patting Leonard’s hand. “He’s talking.”

Daley Cartwell announced a celebration dance, and a series of multicoloured children, red, blue, and yellow, entered the stage. The clothes were excessive, sore on the eye. They danced in lines, in circles, perfectly choreographed. Zack could see the excitement once again rippling through the crowd. People’s eyes were wide, primitive and savage-like. They weren’t used to colour anymore, their palette had been subdued. The desire of the crowd was ferocious and somehow terrifying in comparison to the relaxed calm of the Omega crowd as they sat and watched. They were sitting in even rows around the lobby like a fashion show from the old time, people cool and relaxed, and yet simultaneously on edge, afraid to look out of place. They sat cocooned in safety, their luxury of cleanliness and plenty. It was the people who were the prize. A community that didn’t want for anything. The idea of being part of it was thrilling, like a stimulant more empowering than any drug the sublevels could produce. Zack was just starting to wonder where all the children came from when the dancing stopped and Daley Cartwell came into view, wide white smiles as the children filtered from the stage. More applause.