course, the idea sounded good at the time; everybody flees to the last place standing. What they didn’t predict was that as soon as the States did convert, they quickly became the central command station for the entirety of the Fatality system. It was their idea to take over all businesses. Grocery stores, gas stations, electric companies were all owned by the government. They knew what a citizen was doing before they did it.
To give the Fatality system credit, the initial idea seemed quite logical. If the world was all under one roof of governmental control then they would all be the same. There would be no fighting about differences. A dispute free life came with a heavy price though. To gain freedom from war meant to lose freedom from life.
Two tanks occupied his street at that very moment. One sat on one end of the street while the other stationed itself at the opposite end. Day in and day out those tanks perched like vultures waiting to exterminate anything that wandered into its path.
“Please find somewhere else to read, Brix. I hate it when you read in the window like this. It brings –“
“Too much attention to our house,” Brixton finished for her in his best motherly voice. “Someone will see you. You know how nervous it makes me.” Mom, you worry entirely too much.”
Brixton chuckled. She said things like this too many times during the day for him to count. Plus entirely was a new word he had picked up that week. Alone, it ranked as a weak adverb, but it felt like the perfect word to try with his mom.
Sonu was a small, petite woman. He couldn’t figure out how she had been able to have him. Her tiny frame could’ve snapped in half trying to carry around a baby all day. No matter what she ate, she stayed the same for as long as he could remember. Her hair had faded some, but still glowed a soft honey-brown in the sun. She wore it down during the day. Not once did she cut it shorter than the middle of her back. One time the hairdresser did just that and she cried for days. She actually cried. Over hair. Although ridiculous, he agreed. She did look different with shorter hair. Even though it was still long compared to other people’s.
Where she lacked in height and size, she made up for in mind and spirit. She stayed strong when citizens were asked to conform and pay for the power. She refused to buy food from the government run stores. On the roof of their house, Sonu grew her own garden. She became good at it too; so good that she actually sold half of the extras to close acquaintances and neighbors. Any remainders that she didn’t use for the night’s dinner, she snuck down to the docks and gave to the people who needed it more than they did. Brixton hated the kale and ginger anyway so he was thrilled to see it go.
Everyone spoke of her beauty and strong heart too. It was at night though that Brixton admired his mother the most. She wore a loose braid to keep the hair out of her face while she worked on projects around the house. She was always rearranging or making some craft project that she swore would make the house better for whatever reason. For the most part, it did. Some projects turned out better than he would have expected with a piece of junk.
Once, Sonu found a tattered old suitcase and stuffed it with tufted fabric. She then added legs on the bottom for a rather conventional chair. It sat in the brightest corner of the room so she could gaze upon it from every location in the great, open living space.
That was the beauty in his mother no one else knew about. He could see the passion in her eyes and the ideas churning in her head. She still had the spark that so many people lost over the years of New Policy.
“Nice word, Brix, but that isn’t going to make me feel any better. Actually it scares me even more. Entirely,” she repeated under her breath as she brushed her hair out of her face.
“You’re so smart. One day your smarts are going to get you into a lot of trouble.”
She spoke with a frantic tone. He couldn’t help but picture her as a twisted rabbit that lost its hole. She polished pieces of furniture that hadn’t been touched in months. She beat pillows to give them a good fluff. She tugged on the drapes to close them up tight again. Then for extra precaution, clipped wood clothespins to the edges to make sure they would not open with even the slightest breeze from outside. The wind sometimes slipped through the poorly set windows causing the curtains to dance within the wind’s faint whispers.
Brixton thought she had lost it once she started moving the furniture around. Any other day this would be normal, but she had just done that two days ago.
She usually leaves it for a while; at least a month or two.
Sonu continued to dart about; always looking over her shoulder at the window. Every time she did, so did Brixton. He kept thinking something was behind him which made him feel nervous too.
“What are you doing? Are you expecting someone?”
No visitor ever stepped foot in their loft apartment. Sonu liked to keep things private. She did the visiting around the Court.
His mother continued as if she didn’t hear his question over the screeching of the couch on the hardwood floor.
“And – if you must know, ummf, I worry, uummf, because I’m a mother. I’m allowed to. It’s in the rule book right next to Kiss Your Child More Than Five Times a Day.” Sweat glimmered through on her already natural glowing face.
“That’s pushing it. I’m nineteen-years-old. Don’t you think that’s a little old? I’m pretty much old enough to kiss other girls who are not my mom.”
“You’re never too old to kiss your mother,” she said as she tugged on the bulky curtain for the second time.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
“This place has gone long enough without a good cleaning. I’m sick of living in this somber hole! It’s about time you started helping out around the house, too. What about school? Have you done your work?”
Brixton grew discombobulated with all the questions that were so random and all of the different topics. He put his arms out and shrugged his shoulders.
“It isn’t even that bad. If there isn’t enough light, why don’t we open these stupid things, then?” He opened the barricaded drapes.
“Don’t argue with me, Brixton Bex. Today is not the day.”
Sonu drew them closed again and secured them with even more clips. She never called him by his full name, Brixton Bex. Something was wrong.
Why so wound up? Had something happened she wasn’t telling him? Surely my own mother wouldn’t keep a secret from me.
“I’m going to the library. Make sure to lock the door behind me-”
“And don’t open it until you hear me knock,” he finished for her. Another thing Brixton heard more than he wanted to.
“Very cute. One time, Son. I’m telling ya. That mouth will get you into a hole you won’t be able to talk your way out of.”
“Wait,” Brixton stopped his mom before she shut the door. “The library? It’s pouring out there. We haven’t even finished the books we have here.”
With all the hustle, this idea had just occurred to him.
“Keep those. I’m just going to get a few more.”
“They
