The coal dust swirls through the air in almost that of a rhythmic pattern, shovel full by shovel full the black stones go into the fire, are they screaming? I am deaf to all but the timed grating, a constant in the black whirlwind surrounding me. Has it been hours, days? Have I been here only a minute? Or perhaps I've never lived outside of here, I can remember nothing of another world, though I know light. Where have I seen light? Not the light of fire, true light, I have at least seen it if not felt it. The grating is getting louder, longer, its echoing now, sounds turned to an invisible force, a force that defies these blank walls and this black emptiness. Louder, constantly louder as the walls reflect my defiance, using my own power against me. Originally a single familiar sound, they are now something of a whirling torment, circling faster, louder, until my head is near rupturing...
Just like that, I snapped back, the shift was over. I stumbled, where was I again? The boilers, yes, the boilers, day in and day out it was the boilers. No reason to stay a second longer, I opened the hatch and stepped out into the bright electrical light, as did many others. Single file, all of us coal stained and in general the same. From above I wouldn't be able to tell myself from another. Walk for a while, stop, walk for a while, stop, on and on until it was my turn to step into the elevator. Up it went, 2000km to 1200km, in about 3 minutes. A little slow today I suppose, it was overdue for inspection. Then were the several stops at each block, P, O, N... Finally, class H. The doors opened up as Dryl, Con and I separated ourselves from the crowd, walking into the large section hall. Nothing beat the cold gun steel blue of good old class H. We walked silently down corridor 5, energy generation. Into another elevator and up to floor 7 for coal operators. We passed Wes on our way, odd that he's running late. That was the third time this month. One more and its termination, but if he's negligent enough to have run late again then what's the point to keeping him around?
There it was, family ID 57. A quick swipe of my hand and the chip reader happily chimed and opened up. Pik was at the table, as usually, crayon in hand etching away another surface dream. I try to tell her to stop fantasizing about the surface, there's really no point. Everyone knows there's no way up, and that even if there was no a Stem could never set foot on Flower's land. She didn't say anything, didn't look up, so I didn't say anything either, straight to the shower to get the black coating off. I stopped in the bathroom for a moment and examined the mirror: The dust made my hair black, like one of those smug flowers staring back at me. A quick rustle of my hair changed that, turning it back to its fine silver color with red eyes that portrayed an unlucky hand. "You had an equal shot!" They told us in the institutions, but that doesn't help much when we're down here and they Flowers are up on top reaping the rewards, when your parents are gone and you tell your sister "It was bad luck"... Lasarous smiles upon them, and we are left with a molten core of smoke and fire, working to make their lives easier. All of us Stems bore the same silver hair and red eyes, and although it was monotonous, I still wore it as a symbol of pride that set me apart from those surface dwellers.
These thoughts raced in my mind, hating and spiting as I was in the shower, as I ate, went to bed, repeated the days. Shortly after though, my spite was replaced with doubt. Could the surface truly be so lovely, and if so, could a Stem enjoy the world of a Flower? Pik continued her drawings after institution hours, and they plagued my dreams. She didn't spite them, only me for denying her dreams of the surface. I had a plan. All edible fungus that goes to the surface is grown underground. I'd already coordinated with the exporters. Pik would see the light of day. The day of we went to the depot where the crates were packed. No guards saw us sneak in, an escape hadn't been planned in decades so security was scarce. I set her inside, said my goodbyes and closed the lid before destroying the vacuum seal on the box with a hammer so that she'd be able to breathe. The guards came, I expected that, and knew what would happen full well. As the nightsticks came down, I remembered my final words to her: No matter what, until you reach the surface, keep going.
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