We’ll be completely out of capital in two weeks, three at the most.”
He breathed some more. He couldn’t believe that he was actually having this conversation with himself. He felt like the walls were moving in on him, slowly, until they were the size of a coffin. He tried to calm down. His throat felt tight. His chest felt heavy.
The Baggers had been in economic jams before, but nothing like this. They had one hundred and five CreditCoins in their account and literally no way to get more for two more months. The cheapest calories they could buy were in noodles. A pack of dried noodles cost them 4.99 CCs, which was cheaper than buying a single apple. The noodle package suggested that it contained four servings. The four Baggers were able to make a package last a day, but that was if they demonstrated a lot of self control and remained hungry at all times.
And what is eating only noodles every day doing to all our bodies? Baggs wondered. When money was good, he and Tessa would buy peanut butter and each of the Baggers would eat one bite after their dinner of plain, gray noodles.
The thought of eating any more noodles made Baggs’s stomach do a flip. He had been eating the same thing every day for years, and his body was sick of it.
But then another, more awful thought than having to eat noodles again slipped into his mind: If I don’t enter Outlive, in three weeks my kids won’t have even noodles to eat.
Baggs closed his eyes for five seconds and was tempted to cry. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
“What if we ate less?” he said out loud. He could hear that his own voice was shaking, but he ignored it. “We could cut down on how much food we all eat.” He stared at the wall, doing quick math in his head. “If we each eat only a third of what we have been…”
He stopped, shaking his head. The uncomfortable lump in his throat had grown to the size of a tennis ball. Cutting back on food wasn’t an option. It would stunt their children’s growth. The amount they were eating was the bare minimum. And, there were other expenses, too. They had to buy soap, toothpaste, and would have to buy more clothes when Olive and Tessa grew more. Rent, water and electricity were free, thanks to the Gates Initiative, which was a charity started long ago that helped poorer people attain some commonly needed items. The Gates Initiative helped, but it couldn’t do everything. It was illegal to give such items as food to the poor. As the legislation said, “This law is enacted to prevent the growth of ‘social parasites’ among the impoverished.”
Baggs looked down at his malformed left wrist. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He had walked all the way to this side of town to practice just to be told that it didn’t matter. There was nothing left to consider. The amount of money they had wouldn’t last two more months, and they couldn’t get more for two more months.
Baggs blinked. He knew that there was no other way to make money. He had spent the past six weeks trying desperately to find some other way, while his wrist was broken and he couldn’t play piano.
He sat there, staring at the chipped paint on the wall, breathing in the smell of the piano room. He thought, I love my life; I don’t want it to be over.
A dull fear was tugging at his throat and chest. He pushed it away and turned to the piano.
His fingers came up to the keys and he lost himself for a time, pressing on the white and black plastic and listening to the sound bounce back to him. As he had expected, the pointer finger and thumb on his left hand were useless, but it didn’t
He breathed some more. He couldn’t believe that he was actually having this conversation with himself. He felt like the walls were moving in on him, slowly, until they were the size of a coffin. He tried to calm down. His throat felt tight. His chest felt heavy.
The Baggers had been in economic jams before, but nothing like this. They had one hundred and five CreditCoins in their account and literally no way to get more for two more months. The cheapest calories they could buy were in noodles. A pack of dried noodles cost them 4.99 CCs, which was cheaper than buying a single apple. The noodle package suggested that it contained four servings. The four Baggers were able to make a package last a day, but that was if they demonstrated a lot of self control and remained hungry at all times.
And what is eating only noodles every day doing to all our bodies? Baggs wondered. When money was good, he and Tessa would buy peanut butter and each of the Baggers would eat one bite after their dinner of plain, gray noodles.
The thought of eating any more noodles made Baggs’s stomach do a flip. He had been eating the same thing every day for years, and his body was sick of it.
But then another, more awful thought than having to eat noodles again slipped into his mind: If I don’t enter Outlive, in three weeks my kids won’t have even noodles to eat.
Baggs closed his eyes for five seconds and was tempted to cry. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth.
“What if we ate less?” he said out loud. He could hear that his own voice was shaking, but he ignored it. “We could cut down on how much food we all eat.” He stared at the wall, doing quick math in his head. “If we each eat only a third of what we have been…”
He stopped, shaking his head. The uncomfortable lump in his throat had grown to the size of a tennis ball. Cutting back on food wasn’t an option. It would stunt their children’s growth. The amount they were eating was the bare minimum. And, there were other expenses, too. They had to buy soap, toothpaste, and would have to buy more clothes when Olive and Tessa grew more. Rent, water and electricity were free, thanks to the Gates Initiative, which was a charity started long ago that helped poorer people attain some commonly needed items. The Gates Initiative helped, but it couldn’t do everything. It was illegal to give such items as food to the poor. As the legislation said, “This law is enacted to prevent the growth of ‘social parasites’ among the impoverished.”
Baggs looked down at his malformed left wrist. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He had walked all the way to this side of town to practice just to be told that it didn’t matter. There was nothing left to consider. The amount of money they had wouldn’t last two more months, and they couldn’t get more for two more months.
Baggs blinked. He knew that there was no other way to make money. He had spent the past six weeks trying desperately to find some other way, while his wrist was broken and he couldn’t play piano.
He sat there, staring at the chipped paint on the wall, breathing in the smell of the piano room. He thought, I love my life; I don’t want it to be over.
A dull fear was tugging at his throat and chest. He pushed it away and turned to the piano.
His fingers came up to the keys and he lost himself for a time, pressing on the white and black plastic and listening to the sound bounce back to him. As he had expected, the pointer finger and thumb on his left hand were useless, but it didn’t
Similar Books
