When the White Light Splits

I sometimes wonder about human beings. We can talk so much about equality, treating others how you wish to be treated and all the rest of it, and yet, when push comes to shove we’d rather follow the powerful consensus. Rather blend in than be that lone voice against injustice. The state of the world was something I wondered at; it can’t always have been like this, can it? Apparently though, it has been and it always will be. I’m not one to contradict because in my head it always has been; I suppose I’d just like to believe in something a little different. Something with a little more hope for me.

**

I passed the table in the three room apartment that I shared with my mum and my sister. I was trying to be quiet because mom was still sleeping on the sofa-bed just behind me. I knew I wouldn’t able to be silent enough in order not to wake her up, so I put the old kettle on the stove when I had put enough water to make a pot of tea. I looked into the tea caddy and realised that this would be the last we would be having for a while. The pot was nearly empty and we wouldn’t get any more coupons for tea for at least three weeks. As the water boiled I reached onto the windowsill to get my pot of pills and took one, getting one out for both mom and my sister when she eventually woke up.

Looking out the window at the grey sky made me depressed, even though it shouldn’t. It was usually sunny here, something we were told to avoid going out in unless absolutely necessary, but I still liked the sight of it. I knew that my pill couldn’t have worked yet if I was feeling depressed. They took away all those bad feelings. I made the tea and when I turned around I saw that mom had woken up and was sitting up in bed; I handed her the mug; white, no sugar. This wasn’t because she didn’t like sugar, but because we had run out of our meagre allowance a couple of days ago.

“What time have you got to be in today honey?” she asked as I stepped away to get a bowl of All-Bran to have for breakfast.

“My first lectures at nine” I said, “So I’ll need to leave at about half past seven if I’m going to walk”

She smiled a small smile which didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes were always sad these days, even when she took her pills. I had to walk to University; our sort weren’t allowed to use public transport. Not even the private taxis so we weren’t sharing with anyone else. As if I’d ever have enough money or coupons to be able to get in a taxi.

I looked around as I heard my sister, Thea, come out of her bedroom, bleary eyed and looked for her breakfast. I had already poured her tea but she would have to get her own cereal. I finished up my own bowl and put it in the sink for mum to sort out when she got out of bed. I went back into the room I shared with my sister and got cleaned before beginning to get dressed. A white shirt with grey jeans was my daily garb. That and a armband with a red cross on it. It was necessary that I always wore this whenever I went out of the house. I picked up the piece of material and attached it around my arm, hating myself for doing so and yet knowing that I had no choice.

“Vanya!” came the voice of my mom from the lounge.

“Yes mom?” I asked picking up my bag of books and heading back into the living space in the apartment.

“Can you post this on your way to University?” she asked, holding out a small white envelope. I looked at the back of it; I didn’t recognise the address but I did notice the small red cross which marked out that this post was immediately unimportant, because it came from one of us, and was to be processed through the slowest avenue of the postal service.

“Yeah sure” I said, slipping it into my bag. I gave mom a hug and I noticed her eyes dropped to the armband and the sadness deepened slightly in her eyes. She tore her gaze away and turned to my sister Thea who was talking about what they might be doing in class today; that is, if the teacher actually gave her the time of day.

“Anyway, I best be off” I said, “I’ll see you later”

I left the room with a small wave and headed to the top of the stairs. This apartment was on the fifth floor of a grey tower block, one of the most uninspiring places I could imagine. There wasn’t a lot to stimulate your imagination around here. I walked down the straight road away from the block before looking back over my shoulder, seeing the great red ‘X’ that was daubed on the brick work of it. It would’ve made me cry if the pill hadn’t kicked in by then, luckily all I felt was a slight prickle behind my eyes as I turned left and towards the busier parts of the city.

Nobody came down here because this is where we lived. Those marked by the shadow of the red ‘X’. We were the people who still lived in the city, but who knew or had fraternized with someone who had betrayed the very foundations that this city stood by. We were marked as second-class citizens because of this association, someone who you should not be seen with at any cost. We were dirty, ill-educated and coarse. Supposedly.

For my family it was my father. I couldn’t remember him at all, other than his grave face framed in the doorway, and even that was blurry; his features distorted. I think that was the last time I ever saw him. Swiftly after that, when I was about nine, we were moved into the tower block and the entire status of our life changed. We were diseased as far as the city were concerned. Lepers. I wondered whether we deserved it. I didn’t even know what my father had supposedly done, didn’t know where he was or even how to begin finding out about him. Maybe it was safer that way.

I walked under the dividing bridge into the city and glanced up at the overhanging poster of a chalk white face with a smirk gracing it’s features; various words of jargon under his chin.

“All hail Korse” I muttered under my breath. You had to, but I’d be damned if I was going to say it with pride like the most of the people who passed the cities boundaries. Someone passed me, going in the opposite direction, I heard them spit and saw the gob land at my feet. I didn’t even break my stride; I was beyond used to it.

This was what came from being a marked-woman. To be treated as an animal.

“All hail Korse” I repeated and I was glad that no-one was around to hear the sarcasm in my voice.