Our Dirty Hands

I peeled my dry eyes open to see the soft shining blue leak into my room from my window. Fresh crisp air filled my nostrils as I opened my chapped lips to a yawn. I curled under my blanket and let out a low groan.

I didn't want the warmth to go away, but I had to let it go, like I had to let go of yesterdays tolls. I ripped the blanket off, like a band-aid off a healing scar. I flung my self out of bed and too the bathroom.

It was a normal early morning, a little to normal for me. I started my day by walking down stairs with the calming aroma of coffee filling my nose. I wouldn't make it through the day without my coffee. I poured my cup of joe into a to-go cup and grabbed my weapon.
Then I made my way to the bathroom one more time to fill my body with this generations most popular drug, *Opperinium. Most of us get it from the dangerous border lines of the city but I was lucky enough to buy it off somebody in the shopping district. Most people use it to have an extra boost of energy, but I use it to feel more alive.

I began my 1 mile walk to the factory.

Where I live is not comfortable in any way shape or form. It's like sleeping on a metal spring bed frame, with no mattress, it's impossible to find any pleasure, relief or satisfaction. You just have to grin and bare it, because this is what you got.

Once, I got to the factory I grabbed my gear, and strapped on my oxygen armor. I put my helmet on that had my name messily painted on it. My name was painted over another's who had died in the factory almost two years ago. That's how I got this job... that's how anyone gets a job really. Someone dies, someone gets hired and starts work the next few days, like nothing had happened. That's our circle of life here in Volken.

I grabbed my 272 Cycle Cannon and tightened the strap around my neck. Here, in Volken, our government (if you could even call it a government) has one requirement. Each boy and girl, once the age of 11, must own a cycle gun of some kind.
Why?
*Moggs, that's why. They are humanoid criminals, who want all the natural born humans dead...or *DNA Scrambled into one of them. Once you turn 11 you start work, and no one will know when the next Mogg attack will be and your parents aren't gonna be there to hold your hand. Your parents will be there to show you how to use a cycle gun and work a machine; At least my father was.

I walked inside of the large gray building with the large black clouds of death soaked up into the sky. I crawled down into the underground where all the pipes lines to Volken were, but most of all the *Gena, which is the large battery that keeps this city alive. There have been many reports about the cities around us, there Gena's dying, or even worse, exploding, killing everything within 45 to 50 miles.

We live in dark times and every boy and girl can only pray about what it's like to live a life of luxury and warmth. When I was young I had the mad idea that I would change this, change this city and change the corruption. But as I grew older, my heart became filled with the black smoke of the death clouds and I soon became like everyone else, hopeless.

"Well if it isn't Quarin Danes....where'd you get that gun Mr. Danes."

I shifted my piercing blue eyes toward the large bearded filth covered man who looked down on me.
I was teased a lot by the workers because my father was the freak, who still had hope. Everyone thought he was insane.
I didn't answer and continued my work on some pipes in the very dim lighting of the tunnel.

"Hey! I'm talking to you boy!!"

I could smell the sweaty grease on the mane and it reminded me of the sent of sulfur.

"I found it after a Mogg attack, now will you kindly fuck off."

He knew my gun was better then most, and so did I. It was rare and had one of the farthest distances in the city. It was also fast when needing to be reloaded.
He also knew that I was one of the best *Cyclemen in the city as well.

He snorted, "That's hard to believe! I can't see a Mogg with such a weapon."
He put his beefy hands on his hips.
I just continued to work pretending he no longer existed.

A bell rang.

Break, thank God.

I walked out of the underground and saw all the pale faces of my coworkers.
I pushed my way to the front of the crowd of dirtied men and saw the people who had ruined the lives of many.

We call them the *Naz. I don't know much about history but I do know that the name we call them is the name of disgusting tyrants who are our enemies.
They were from the rich cities with luxuries we could only dream of.
They worked for up top.

I put my hand on my weapon, ready for anything.

They were all perfectly dressed with beautiful new Cycle Guns.
A man dressed nicer then the rest who had a patch on his eye and slicked back black hair, walked in front of the mass of Nazmen.

"Hello boys! Today could be your lucky day! We have been flying around looking for some new solders to come with us to the big city! And we haven't found any yet...but I hear there are some skilled individuals...right in this very room.."

My pupils shrank, I only knew two other men who were almost as good as me, one of them is close to my age and the other is almost 50..they were both in this room with me. They couldn't possibly mean us right?

"Now then, I have two men in this factory that I need...I will read there names, and you will cooperate. Or die..."

My heart was pounding away in my ear with almost the same tempo as the loud ticking clock of the factory.

"Never..." I whispered.

I slowly began to back away into the mass, trying to not make any sudden movement.
Then I saw the boy who was a good Cyclemen as well glance at me. His dull hazel eyes met with my sharp blue ones.
And then we knew, we had to flee if we ever wanted to see our family and friends again.

" Quarin Danes...and Lenith Court...will you please step forward."

I ran for my life, I just had to see my fathers face again, just one last time...