“You think we’ll ever get used to this?” Nemo asked. She started working at The Fill a few months earlier than me, and even though she didn’t gag anymore, her stomach still retched with every bite.
“Yes, but I hope not.”
Nemo thought about my words while she chewed her lips. Then, she nodded.
“You’re right. We’ll get out of here soon,” she said. “Just like Bee.”
☣
The heavy rains drummed against the aluminum roof of the unit my sister, Bee, and I shared. The holographic billboards across the street were blinding, so I turned on the darkening function of the window above the sink. I no longer wanted to see what was outside. It only reminded me of a life I could not have. People like me were shadows, darting between the New Era tech workers who stared straight ahead, their eyes fixed on a singular destination. But we never knew where to look. Our eyes always wandered, lost, aimless, searching for something that didn’t exist: Hope.
Bee’s job as a tech intern for New Era Digital Corporations is glorious. The company didn’t pay their interns much, but if she were offered full-time employment, we could move somewhere a little nicer. I didn’t want to depend on Bee—I felt like I was failing her as an older sister—but I didn’t have much choice. I knew she didn’t mind, though. She didn’t have time to. Not that I had much time either, but my work was mindless compared to hers.
I always feared change. Probably because the world moved far too quickly, and I could only scuttle to keep up. Scuttling was much slower than the hover cars, and could only be done on the ground, and every day it seemed as though fewer and fewer were walking the same roads that I did.
Beside the sink, Bee left a note along with a pack of artificial meats and fruits.
For lunch.
She still didn’t know the details of my work, only that it caused terrible coughing fits. I didn’t want her to look down on me like the other New Era workers who sneered as I passed them on my way to work.
I ripped off the note, crumpled it, and tossed it into my mouth before placing the packets back into our only cupboard. The smooth texture of the paper dissolved on my tongue. The lead and ink on the paper a far more preferable option.
In the cupboard, twenty packets sat in a thin line. Enough to last Bee for the week. She never bothered to keep track of our rations. Her mind was always elsewhere. Sometimes, I felt like I was the only person living here, although my recently re-engineered body suggested otherwise.
I noticed a bottle of tonic, almost empty, peeking out of a black leather boot by the bed. The other boot had gone missing, or at least that was what I had told Bee. Really, it was inside my stomach—if I could still call it that anymore. A processor was what the genetic engineer had called it before I signed the contract to work as a Roach at The Fill. The contract was set to expire once I turned twenty-five, but I was never quite sure what I would do once it did. But there was no use worrying about that now. Today was Friday, which meant pay day, and it was the only thing Bee and I still had in common.
I pulled on my stained black jumpsuit and slipped my feet into boots still filled with sludge from the night before. There were holes in my socks from when I had snacked on them the week before. I couldn’t afford new socks, but I also couldn’t stop the hunger that kept my teeth clattering at night. Bee never noticed.
My thoughts were interrupted by Cent, the landlord’s son.
“Rent collection!” he barked.
Rather than knocking, Cent kicked the door, which caused me to curse. He always showed up right when I was about to leave for work, because he knew I couldn’t avoid him this way, and I could never bring myself to wake up any earlier to escape him since I already got so little sleep as it was.
I opened the door, and Cent loomed over me with his arms crossed over his chest. His body took up the entire doorway. People like Cent didn’t care about the New Era techies or the Roaches like me. He only cared about his property, and he was more than happy to roam the halls daily, looking for any excuse to complain or to extort more money from residents.
“Half tomorrow. Half by the end of the week,” I said, pushing past him. He could stand to wait a few days. How did he always forget when pay day was? Maybe roaming the halls diminished his memory. Then again, if I had his mindless job, I wouldn’t be able to keep track of what day it was either.
“Are you ever gonna pay rent on time?”
“Never.”
☣
Life was much easier when I worked at the plastic disposal facility, but New Era moved me to The Fill in favor of someone from the retired middle class because Roaches weren’t worthy of such dignity. Eating plastic was a luxury compared to what they make you eat at The Fill.
Sheets of heavy rain obscured the garbage piles in the distance. At the gate, I scanned the barcode tattooed on my wrist. It was difficult to understand why they had a gate. No one in their right mind would voluntarily break in, much less take from The Fill—unless they were really desperate. I suppose that would also create more work for the Watchers if dead bodies just started piling up. Food poisoning was not something I wanted to think about before starting my workday, but the thought of my lifeless body dead atop the piles gave me goosebumps.
The time (9:05 a.m.) flashed on the screen above the scanner and the gate unlocked and swung inward to reveal a sign that had not been there the day before. Coming Soon: New Era Digital Corporations.
Always New Era. Didn’t they control enough? Last week they bought out another privately owned organic farm, stating that their production output was too low, but that was just an excuse. New Era only wanted to monopolize everything.
Nemo waved at me with a bright smile. It amazed me how chipper she still was having been working at The Fill for much longer than I have.
“Morning, Bird,” said Nemo. She was stretched out on the ground beside a pile of rotten banana peels. She opened her mouth wide and tossed an entire peel in. The rain streaked down her face, washing away the mud from her lips. My nose wrinkled at the sight. Though they implanted smell inhibitors in us a week ago, I still couldn’t help but imagine the foul scent of the peel that dangled from Nemo’s lips.
I yearned for the bits of plastic containers I used to consume at the plastic facility. Yes, the plastic pieces got lodged in my throat too, but compared to wet sludge, it was bearable. What did Bee have for lunch? She never took the meat and fruit packets with her.
Like Nemo, other workers were hunched over smaller piles of their choosing. Others sat on top of the landfill piles, eyes fixed on the city lights, mindlessly ingesting whatever was nearest them while imagining a better life in the skyscrapers. Sometimes Nemo and I did the same.
“How’s your sister’s job going?”
I remembered the tonic.
“Stressful, I’m guessing,” I said. “They have her on call. She doesn’t get much sleep.”
“At least that’s one thing we can enjoy when we get home!”
Perhaps for Nemo this was true, but not for me. Still, I admired her optimism. How she could keep her upbeat attitude was a wonder, and her presence made working at The Fill bearable, even during the rains.
I looked around, debating which pile I should spend my day with. Nemo laughed at my searching eyes.
“Just pick any. They’ve added flavor functions! They made the update last night. I was told when I came in this morning. Perks of being an early riser.”
“How considerate.” As if flavor functions could make our jobs better.
Nemo laughed. “It’s better than nothing.” She held out a peel. I suppose she had a point.
My lips pressed into a thin line as I reached for the rotten banana peel. I took a small bite. My eyes widened. Rather than mud, it tasted like real bananas. It was difficult to imagine why they would add this function now when The Fill would soon be empty.
Still, it was difficult to find true joy in this development, knowing that the trash wasn’t really flavored. New Era simply reprogrammed our senses to taste something better. The sense technology upgrades were cheaper than supplying us with real food.
☣
“Roaches!” the head Watcher, a programmed android who looked like a gray humanoid figure—a tin man—wheeled toward us, shouting, our signal that it was lunch break. The Watcher’s expressionless face, plain except for two red glowing beads for eyes, was unsettling to say the least. An involuntary shiver rippled through my body whenever I met its gaze.
The rain stopped as we finished up the peels. Nemo and I sat on top of the tallest pile while others argued with the Watcher about how they should be allowed to wash their hands and faces. I folded my hands in front of me, rough with dried mud and waste.
“Why do they bother? They know that the Watcher will say no,” said Nemo.
But if no one fought for these small freedoms, who would? The image of Cent as he paced up and down the halls came to mind. He would continue to pace like his father had, and his children would do the same. It was difficult to change jobs once assigned. Hope for a better life was futile.
A skyscraper, with the entirety of its exterior made up of digital screens of varying sizes, loomed in the distance: New Era’s main building. New Era ran all the commercial screens and billboards across the city, and now they were expanding into real estate. Luxurious hi-tech housing developments were their mission and promise. It wouldn’t be long before New Era bought out the small, low-tech building Bee and I lived in. Soon, we wouldn’t be able to see the sky. We’d only see digital screens that never turned off.
From the pile’s height, I imagined Bee looking down at me from New Era’s main building.
“Roaches,” mumbled Nemo. “You’d think they would give us a less demeaning name. We’re cleaning up the city!”
“Because they think they’re the ones saving us. They’re ‘creating jobs’ for those of us who can’t break into tech.”
“Sounds like something from that New Era documentary that came out recently. You know, the one about the new tech leaders saving those in the old tech worlds?”
When I didn’t answer, Nemo continued, “The trailer looks pretty cool. Can’t afford to see it though.”
I picked up what seemed like an apple core and munched on it. It actually tasted like an apple. I closed my eyes and imagined the core filling its fleshless skeleton and wrapping itself with waxy red skin. The only time I saw a real apple was in ads, the most recent being one for organics priced at 25 Coin. Nemo and I were paid 10 Coin daily; Bee’s salary was 20. It cost 3 Coin for a packet of artificial meat or fruit. Rent was 500 Coin.
Even with the steep price of organics, sometimes we found nearly untouched pieces of fruits and vegetables at The Fill, sometimes with only a single bite taken out of them. Whenever I thought of the upper class, I became angry. They were be born into wealth and took it for granted.
The New Era Connect cost only 1 Coin a day to use. But there was no reason for Bee and me to purchase it. It only allowed access to sites that required further purchases for products and services. Entertainment cost an extra 3 Coin a day, so we usually just stared at the billboards outside our windows. At least the advertisements were free.
From the windows of more expensive apartments above our unit, came the sounds of laughter and loud music and movie explosions. It was often that we saw trash fly past our window. After Bee fell asleep, I would sneak out to collect the trash that had been tossed. Often, I fought other Roaches for the scraps.
“Why are you still eating? We’re on lunch break,” asked Nemo.
“Roaches!”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
As we continued consuming the new pile’s contents, I remembered the sign near The Fill’s gates. The piles in The Fill grew smaller every day, and the number of workers continued to grow. The Fill would only last a few more months at most. Soon, there would be no pile that would bring me closer to Bee.
“Did you see the sign out front?”
Nemo nodded.
“What do you think will happen to us when The Fill is finally cleared?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“Roaches!”
I wanted to throw my apple core at the Watcher’s dumb head.
☣
When I returned home, I hid the box of rotten vegetables that would sustain me on my day off near our laundry basket. Bee wouldn’t find it there because she never did the laundry. She was too busy thinking over the codes and programs she worked with daily, punctuated by the occasional buzz in her ear that signaled she would have to work overtime from home.
Bee arrived home two hours after me, just before midnight. She entered our room with her usual unblinking stare, as though her eyes were frozen in place, never moving side to side, but staring only straight ahead. My gaze followed her as she walked past me.
“How was work?”
Bee sat down on the bed, her movements mechanical, and stared at the ceiling. I took the spot next to her. She felt so distant though only centimeters separated us.
“I’m being promoted.”
Our parents’ bodies were removed from New Era’s main building a few years after they were promoted. We were brought in to say our last goodbyes. I remembered staring into their lifeless, bloodshot eyes, endless data running across their pupils. I had to sign the release papers for Bee and me. New Era would pay for our living expenses, but only the bare minimum—shelter and a weekly ration—until we could work. They wanted us to feel indebted to them, but I never did. But Bee? I wasn’t too sure. She was very eager to learn what was necessary to become a New Era tech worker, and she spent most of her time studying. I could only support her the best I could while she worked to “better” herself. Was that what our parents wanted?
“That’s good, right?” I asked. But I wanted to scream at her, beg her to refuse the offer.
“Good?” Bee’s tone, bleak, sounded more like a question than an answer. “They’re moving me into the New Era building… permanently.”
The New Era skyscraper glowed in the distance.
Though Bee was no longer in front of the screens at work, I could still see the data running in her eyes, just like I had seen in the eyes of our parents. She picked up her bottle of tonic and finished it.
“Don’t go,” I said. It was a doomed plea.
Bee turned towards me, a blank smile on her face, her eyes unblinking.
“You know it has always been my dream.”
That was what they wanted her to believe.
“I know.”
☣
When I arrived at The Fill the next day, Nemo was in her usual spot, waiting for me. She was not eating from the small pile sitting in front of her. I had no appetite, either.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Nemo stood and dragged me towards the crowd forming around the head Watcher.
“Roaches!” I really wished they would stop calling us that.
“A message from New Era,” said the head Watcher when everyone gathered. “The Fill’s demolition is scheduled for May, in two months’ time, and should be cleared prior to the demolition month.”
A look of panic passed between Nemo and me. Bee was moving into the New Era building next week, but where would I go? I wouldn’t be able to afford rent without her.
“My brother just moved out.” Nemo’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Nemo’s brother held the same position as Bee. It seemed like there had been a mass promotion. Would The Fill be turned into the New Era building where they would work? It seemed those assigned to the branch buildings always fared better. They lasted a few years longer, at least. But there were always white stretchers that left New Era buildings daily.
Nemo and I shared a look of understanding.
The Watcher continued, “All workers of The Fill will be reassigned to the sewage disposal sector. Roaches, dismissed!”
We scuttled back towards our piles while the other Roaches swarmed around the Watcher’s gray body. They were angry. They knocked the Watcher to the ground and pounded with their emaciated fists against its tin surface. I knew their little rebellion would soon be squashed and forgotten a day later.
“Why do they bother?”
But if no one fought for these small freedoms, who would?
Nemo and I huddled together and clutched the rotten peels to our chest like Coin, watching the screens in the distance grow brighter, closer, until we no longer saw the sky.
