greenhouses and
... you know… they’ve just had their new crop harvest… so they gave me a whole
basket to take home.” Mr. Kowalski shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “The perks
of my job,” he mumbled as he zipped his tool bag and started toward the door.
“Mr. Kowalski,
wait!” Flynn rummaged through his sack and produced a dark green bottle. “Here’s
something to go with your dinner, then.”
“Aha!” Mr.
Kowalski's face lit up, taking the bottle. “It's been a long time since I’ve
had one of those! Looks like wine to me...” He was examining the bottle,
turning it in his hands.
“Flynn!” Alan
Perry cried, his face turning red again. “Have you been scavenging in the
restricted zones again?”
But before Flynn
could say anything, they all heard a bell ring outside and the rush of
footsteps along the walkway.
Mr. Kowalski
slipped the bottle quickly in his satchel. “The water’s here! I’d better hurry!”
“No worries, Mr.
Kowalski,” said Flynn, grabbing the four empty plastic jugs under the table. “I'll
get your rations for you tonight.”
“Don’t forget to
let the ladies and kids go first, Flynn,” Alan Perry said.
“I won’t!” cried
Flynn. And with those words, he ran quickly out the door, glad at the
opportunity to escape from his father’s reproachful stare.
FIVE
The Water Rations
had arrived! This was fresh, drinking water, delivered down through the
pipeline from the Upper Side reservoirs, tapped and distributed around by the
Government rafts and barges. The Government owned the water… Or to be more
precise, a company called Van Zandt Water Solutions owned the water and,
therefore, owned the people. It was that simple. Everyone was held hostage by a
small group of men who had the good fortune to be in possession of the
desalination formula… It was the group that had made it possible to sustain
life on the Archipelago after the Flood… and to rule over the whole place. The
Government could not control rain water, of course, but that hardly mattered…
Rain was such a rare thing... and it never snowed…
Flynn stood in the
long line of people, moving slowly down the walkway, everyone waiting patiently
for their turn to come. It was a well-practiced routine, repeated at the same
time each evening. At exactly 8:00 pm, the valves at the Upper Side end of the
pipeline were opened. Heavily guarded rafts waited at the Lower Side station to
fill up their barrels. All other traffic was shut down. From that point on, the
street canals and all waterways were to be used only by the rafts ferrying the Water
Rations. Those who had not made it home on time didn’t get any water, until the
next day. It worked perfectly for the Government, imposing a kind of voluntary
curfew over the Lower Side.
Flynn stepped
toward the elevator. It was the same one he had used earlier, except now its
platform was lined with large plastic barrels full of water. Thanks to Dino’s man-power,
the platform would make its way up, stop at each floor and wait for the
residents to fill up their containers. Each person was allowed a daily ration
of two gallons and not a drop more.
After having let
several women and their children go ahead of him, it was Flynn’s turn now. He
glanced quickly at the Water Warden standing at the corner of their floor’s
walkway, watching everybody with great intensity. The man was one of their
neighbors, a volunteer in the self-policing practices which the Government
encouraged… Water Wardens would report those who dared to be careless with the
water supply. Anyone who spilled or stole extra rations was punished on the
spot. Wasteful usage was a crime!
“For the Greater Good!”
Flynn mumbled as he filed past the Warden. Flynn hated the man, but he knew it
was wise to hide his feelings… When the Trials were over, Flynn thought, he
would never have to worry about these Wardens again… He would be living on the
Upper Side, where nobody had to ration
... you know… they’ve just had their new crop harvest… so they gave me a whole
basket to take home.” Mr. Kowalski shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “The perks
of my job,” he mumbled as he zipped his tool bag and started toward the door.
“Mr. Kowalski,
wait!” Flynn rummaged through his sack and produced a dark green bottle. “Here’s
something to go with your dinner, then.”
“Aha!” Mr.
Kowalski's face lit up, taking the bottle. “It's been a long time since I’ve
had one of those! Looks like wine to me...” He was examining the bottle,
turning it in his hands.
“Flynn!” Alan
Perry cried, his face turning red again. “Have you been scavenging in the
restricted zones again?”
But before Flynn
could say anything, they all heard a bell ring outside and the rush of
footsteps along the walkway.
Mr. Kowalski
slipped the bottle quickly in his satchel. “The water’s here! I’d better hurry!”
“No worries, Mr.
Kowalski,” said Flynn, grabbing the four empty plastic jugs under the table. “I'll
get your rations for you tonight.”
“Don’t forget to
let the ladies and kids go first, Flynn,” Alan Perry said.
“I won’t!” cried
Flynn. And with those words, he ran quickly out the door, glad at the
opportunity to escape from his father’s reproachful stare.
FIVE
The Water Rations
had arrived! This was fresh, drinking water, delivered down through the
pipeline from the Upper Side reservoirs, tapped and distributed around by the
Government rafts and barges. The Government owned the water… Or to be more
precise, a company called Van Zandt Water Solutions owned the water and,
therefore, owned the people. It was that simple. Everyone was held hostage by a
small group of men who had the good fortune to be in possession of the
desalination formula… It was the group that had made it possible to sustain
life on the Archipelago after the Flood… and to rule over the whole place. The
Government could not control rain water, of course, but that hardly mattered…
Rain was such a rare thing... and it never snowed…
Flynn stood in the
long line of people, moving slowly down the walkway, everyone waiting patiently
for their turn to come. It was a well-practiced routine, repeated at the same
time each evening. At exactly 8:00 pm, the valves at the Upper Side end of the
pipeline were opened. Heavily guarded rafts waited at the Lower Side station to
fill up their barrels. All other traffic was shut down. From that point on, the
street canals and all waterways were to be used only by the rafts ferrying the Water
Rations. Those who had not made it home on time didn’t get any water, until the
next day. It worked perfectly for the Government, imposing a kind of voluntary
curfew over the Lower Side.
Flynn stepped
toward the elevator. It was the same one he had used earlier, except now its
platform was lined with large plastic barrels full of water. Thanks to Dino’s man-power,
the platform would make its way up, stop at each floor and wait for the
residents to fill up their containers. Each person was allowed a daily ration
of two gallons and not a drop more.
After having let
several women and their children go ahead of him, it was Flynn’s turn now. He
glanced quickly at the Water Warden standing at the corner of their floor’s
walkway, watching everybody with great intensity. The man was one of their
neighbors, a volunteer in the self-policing practices which the Government
encouraged… Water Wardens would report those who dared to be careless with the
water supply. Anyone who spilled or stole extra rations was punished on the
spot. Wasteful usage was a crime!
“For the Greater Good!”
Flynn mumbled as he filed past the Warden. Flynn hated the man, but he knew it
was wise to hide his feelings… When the Trials were over, Flynn thought, he
would never have to worry about these Wardens again… He would be living on the
Upper Side, where nobody had to ration
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