Unearth by Lee R. K

Author:Lee, R. K.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Whether administered by the man in the alley or later by the antitoxin, memory wipes are an inevitable daily occurrence. From what is taught in school, it is the safest way for a society to thrive.

As my shoes hit the cobblestone walkway with more vigor than usual, Apothecary B and Dress Shop Four come into view through the crowd a block or so down. My gut instinct tells me to never take another dose of the antitoxin, just as 67 advised, however no one is permitted to leave the city on Cleansing Day without picking up their fruit and presenting it at the exit gate.

The wait at this particular Apothecary is long, the line outside the doors and into the pathway of passersby. No one engages in conversation except with their family. Not soon enough, I’m at the front of one of two lines inside. My arm is scanned and the stout man looks out of the corner of his eyes while tapping the computer screen atop the counter. He scans again then bellows with a growl, “Citizen…we do not carry the dosage listed here. Please go to the Apothecary on Tenth and Grand.”

I almost complain about waiting in such a long line only to be sent elsewhere, but I stop abruptly and tip my chin, as any compliant citizen would do.

The shop is just down the way, so I decide to head through the crowd before the trip over to the other side of the city center. This entire time my dress has been tattered down the collar and shoulder and no one notices.

The shop is practically bare of inventory. A few dresses hang in a corner, some clothed mannequins in the windows. A woman appears from behind the back curtains, rolling forward behind the counter. She is short, round, and bounces each syllable off her tongue. “What’s ya gonna have?”

“Options in back?” I’ve never been to get a dress on my own, Mother always took care of this, and when she died, Father would show up with a new one when I outgrew the previous one. We’re allotted a very basic color and design each year, regardless if we grow beyond its capacity.

“All we gots right now’s out here, miss.” The woman’s speech is rough and uneducated. Part of me wonders if she belongs to the small group of citizens whose family line was punished to a life in servitude, receiving no education or luxuries enjoyed by even the lower-class Plebeians. Though, her large frame would suggest that she has not suffered from lack of nourishment.

I approach the counter. My petite frame towers above her. That is when I note she doesn’t have legs. Perched atop a makeshift stool, she controls it with a simple joystick. It looks nearly impossible, but somehow, she teeters on the top, moving efficiently and quickly. My compassion grows; at least, I believe that is what the emotion is called; there are too many now to keep track of anymore.

I provide my arm for her to scan, watching the tattoo illuminate under the device she holds.

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