Michelle Muckley - The Dawn - The Bombs Fall

Two white-gloved and white-clothed workers pushed a spherical beast of a machine with a rotating drum from behind, bent double as if they were worshipping it. They positioned it in the centre of the lobby, and the children who had only moments before been dancing on the stage filled with stars formed two circles of primary colours around the machine. Daley Cartwell announced it as Sisyphus, and the children with their hands clasped together skipped in opposite directions around it which drew delighted smiles and cheers from the crowd. As the cameras panned back they revealed a canopy of green from eight huge trees, rising as tall as the columns of the Parthenon. Occasionally the trees seemed to move as if in a breeze, which Zack knew was impossible and a sign of how intoxicatingly destructive the atmosphere really was. After this was all finished, the memory of it would fester like an open wound, putrefying what was left of his life. He stood up at one point, the sudden movement sending Leonard’s arm flying off to the side. He gasped for breath, panting for air. His sides were so tight it felt like his lungs couldn’t even expand, like new balloons impossible to inflate. Even with all of his effort behind it, breathing was hard. Leonard pulled on his arm, gentle encouragement to sit back down. Zack hadn’t noticed them, but the Guardians had already noticed him. There was a ring of them around the perimeter of the Food Hall. Leonard nodded to Zack, and one of the Guardians used his Assister to motion for him to sit.

“Relax, Zachary.” Leonard returned the hand to Zack’s shoulder. “Relax.” It was the name his parents used. It was the name people who loved him spoke of. It was the name Samantha used. It was the name of familiarity. Of the past.

“OK, OK,” Zack said. He breathed deeply. He stared at his wrist, at the tattoo, at his number.

“They’re about to draw the first ball.” Leonard said.

In his effort to breathe there were definitely parts of the show that Zack had missed because there was another small stage that had been pushed into place that wasn’t there before. It was topped with the same twinkling lights, and the main lights in the Omega lobby had been dimmed. He couldn’t focus on the show anymore. Just hearing the name Zachary had rolled him straight back into a time when he felt, when he cried, loved, danced, and hurt. When he was anything but numb and desperate. In this moment he caught the smell the musky scent of Samantha’s perfume as she slipped her naked leg between his, and her arm across his chest as she slept. In the day she would speak of future plans that seemed like crazy ideas, able to scare him half to death with just the suggestion of a lifetime together. What he would give to listen to all those words that he had once filtered out. Her crumbs in the bed. The hair in the bath. The coffee rings she left on magazines about architecture that he was planning to keep. Now he would treasure anything if it was hers. As he opened his eyes he thought he saw her for a moment, smiling, her image faint and hazy in front of him. Within seconds the image had faded but still he reached out for her, his arm stroking the air. But even though he knew it was impossible, she was here with him somehow. There was a smell of musk in the air, and his leg tingled as if she had been resting hers on his. Somewhere she still lived, inside of him. He always thought there was nothing left, but the energy of the night had reignited something. There were still memories in him, feelings, a passion he thought was lost or taken from him as a punishment and yet now here in this night, with Leonard still steadying him, he felt it. He felt a connection he thought had been burned when the bombs rained down and fire had torched his world and his life. She was here. He was here. They still lived, and it had taken the possibility of a future to be able to taste the past. Perhaps he could believe that he could forgive himself for his mistakes, knowing it was the only thing that could really set him free.

We have a zero! A zero is the first number!

The balls tumbled around in the drum, each one skirting across the hole, missing its purpose. The next slotted into place and the crowd held their breath.

A zero! Another zero! We are still waiting folks!

That ruled out Eta Tower, And Theta Tower. This was the normal start. Next ball was another zero. Had to be. The balls continued round and round and the children danced in circles. Daley Cartwell cheered and the crowds sat with their hands together. All eyes were fixed on the drum, the coloured balls leaping over one another as if they didn’t want the responsibility of being next. Another fell into the hole. Another zero?

We have an eight. An eight! The first number of the winner is an eight!

Every resident of Delta leapt to its feet, rising as a single unit. Even Leonard. It could be a citizen of Delta. There were six numbers in total, and the first two were always zeros. The next was always a two or three, except for the first draw when it was a five and somebody from Gamma won. But now it was an eight. Some had started crying just knowing they were this close. It looked as if it being close could be enough for them. Or maybe the thought of leaving was too much. To lose a second life for something else unknown, just like before, well, maybe that was worse than staying here. At least here you knew what you had got. Zack tried to focus on the screen even though everybody, Leonard included, was still up on their feet cheering. He sat, tried to breath. Somebody knocked him from behind, winding him. Somebody else was shouting for everybody to calm down. It could have been a Guardian. People were shouting all around and like the balls of the machine only snippets of information made it through to his ears. The rest was just noise filtering rampantly through the crowd, carried on a wave of excitement. Daley Cartwell was already announcing the fourth ball.

The crowd settled down but not in the same lifeless way that it was normally subdued. There was a stir of trepidation, people wanting to be calm and listen but unable. Zack was no different. He stood, he sat. He held his hands together and then rested them on the table. None of the Guardians moved. It was as if they wouldn’t dare. What were the numbers? Leonard was sitting talking to himself, his head in his hand. He was crying. Zack focused on his shoulders shaking, and the tear as it fell from Leonard’s face and struck the metal table.

“I’m out. I’m out. It’s over, Zachary.” Zack looked towards the television screen over a sea of sad faces. Some were holding their heads, others pulling at their hair. Some were crying and others, stronger types, the ones who would try to pick people up again when it was all over, were already trying to calm their neighbours. This was the only time when Zack had ever believed there was some element of community amongst the Delta residents. People just like Leonard were realising their chance was over, their excitement replaced by fear that they had no hope of a brighter tomorrow. Whatever tomorrow was. It would still be today. It would be yesterday, and the day before. An endless Groundhog Day where there was no choice left, and they just had to get on with it.

As another person sat down there were only three people left on their feet. One of them was Zack. Zero. Zero. Eight. Six. Five. Five balls out. Zack glanced down at his tattoo even though there was no need. They were his numbers. He was one number away. He clutched his wrist, his left thumb covering the length of the tattoo, only the triangle for Delta visible.

And the last number is……. wait for it, Delta Tower. We know it’s one of you. What do we have?

The camera panned to the children, then the crowds, then the president’s seat, and then back to Daley Cartwell.