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There was smoke. A lot of smoke. The kind that encompassed you so completely, your eyes stung, your nose watered, you groped around like a blind man. The kind of smoke that made you feel utterly alone.
Yet, as if my feet knew the way which my mind did not, I put in all my energy into running, pounding the packed dirt, feet drumming into a rhythm I’d grown to know. The rhythm of sneakers on gravel, on race tracks, on tarp, on concrete. The rhythm that was uniquely mine.
Suddenly, I was free from the smoke. Completely free. I had the moment-long blankness that reminded me of all the other times I’d end a race, with no one next to me, Vit-Pill induced energy fading away, the throbbing of my heart rapidly slowing. Then the rush of victory came.
More beating of shoes, like the other competitors, slowing as they reached the end, almost in awe of the victor, the first place person, then the smoke gave way to two familiar forms, Danzor-Kreul and Seth-Krono. They stood for a moment, catching their breath. Seth, unaccustomed to running long distances, sucked in heaving breaths of clear oxygen.
Then, we turn back to the smoke rising in plumes. The faint silhouettes of buildings, tall spiky roofs of the Quarters, flat tops of the Canteen and Learning Areas, stand out from the murky grayness.
And there’s a momentary rush of emotions, and a feeling unlike any other time I’ve ended a race. That this, this was the most sought-for prize, that this was the largest trophy to win, that this, this opportunity, was the greatest one of all.
The most astounding thing was, it didn’t feel like the end. It felt like a beginning.
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I shook awake. It didn’t take long for the shivers to go away. It was probably a nothing dream. Just like all the other nothing things that I do every day (not tuck in my shirt, forget to bring my InterCom, sneak out of Training Sessions when Faern isn’t there). But I know I've started off on the wrong foot already.
The night has been colder than usual, on top of the already-chilling dream. Why hadn't the Gods informed us?
They must be having issues with Aeolus again. I smile at my, however limited, knowledge of the internal affairs of the Gods.
I drag myself out of bed and pick up my bottle of Meta Pills from the table next to it. After downing a double-gulp of Vit-Drink to wash down the 5 daily Pills, I immediately feel the familiar rush of cold iciness tickle my spine. I hardly mind it, in fact it fascinates me.
I turn over and try to get back to sleep; after all, the Wakeup Bell hasn’t been rung, so no Kreul, Krono, or Kai should be out yet.
Then my eyes slam open again, after five minutes of trying to sleep. It’s today. I jump out of bed, and hit my Luminescent Lamp in my enthusiasm. No use trying to sleep now.
Today, finally, finally, I’d be getting my new skin tone. I’d long gotten tired of the blue-tinted forearms and gangly legs that poked out of my shirt and shorts. I’d exhausted all kinds of face paints that matched the colour blue and even those that didn’t. I was ready for a change. After a year of the same colour of skin, I’m sure every Kreul (Kronos normally disregard their image. Power is all they regard highly) is thoroughly dissatisfied with the monotony of it.
I can hardly wait for the time, I can look into the mirror and see a green, fresh and new, staring back at me. With a bit of luck, I can add a Black tattoo. Once I graduate from Kreul-Krono School, once I become a Green, I’ll become a Kai. Once I’m a Kai…everything really starts to happen. All the teeny little running competitions will be nothing, will mean nothing. Now, it’s real pitting of wits, real tussles, real victories. The real Olympics begin.
In three minutes flat, I’ve changed out of my Sleepwear, a pair of standard-issue gray sweatpants (prevents the knee-aches I’m so prone to getting) and baggy shirt, tossing it expertly to the open laundry hatch near my wardrobe. After throwing open the glass doors, retrieving a pair of Workout gray shorts and shirt, and shutting them with a customary bang, I kick the hatch closed with my foot, sending my Soiled Linen to the Laundry Duty Blues at the bottom of Block E.
Already clothed, I plop back onto my bed, shut my eyes and try to will time to move faster.
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An InterCom rings shrill.
My eyes spring open. While trying to stay awake and be the first down to Roll Call, I fell back to sleep! I berate my uncontrollable body as I grope around for that elusive device. Finally locating it, I flip it open and place it to my ear.
“Lia-Kreul.”
“Lia? Where are you?”
“Danzor-Kreul? Where am I supposed to be?” I trust her to know my schedule to the T, though she's never done the same with her own.
“In the Learning Area! You forgot the morning training again right? Coach Faern isn’t pleased, by the look of it.”
“Oh shoot! I’m coming. Give me five. Where are you standing to see Faern?”
Laughter fills my ears.
Click.
The phone was put down abruptly. Characteristic Danzor-Kreul. It isn't even her training session, but she knows when and where and who should be there.
I tug my shirt free from the larger wrinkles and lace up my running shoes, their worn-out insides, taped together with plasters and drenched repeatedly in softener, are comfortable and warm from being heated in the Heating Rack. Optimum temperature for the best performance on track.
I'm out of the room in 2 minutes, closing the door with a snap and tapping into the Electrolyzed Monitor of Restricted Areas, or EMRA as we Kreuls and Kronos call it, the time of my departure. The tiny "whirring" noise and the "ding!" with a little smiling face appearing inform me that I'm late for my training session. So whatever. I knew that already. As if Danzor would let me forget.
My feet break into a run as I warm up with a hearty jog to the Learning Area.
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"Two laps round! Knees up to your chest, Kreul! That's it! Keep it coming! Where's the power?!"
I roll my eyes as I continue my five rounds of Sprinting Knee-ups. Faern (or Scylla as Seth calls her) is cold and aloof, nothing wrong there. Her gold-streaked black hair, which stands out from our sea of black, glints with the early morning sun that has just risen over Olympus. She glares at me for staring, but as I turn back and continue to run, out of the corner of my eye, I can see her toss her hair just that little bit flamboyantly.
Seth comes up behind me.
"Mornin' Latie." He greets perfunctorily. "What kept you today? Stoning? Fazing out? Other nothing things?"
"Come off it, 'Whitie'." I grumble. His wise cracks aren't the best things to hear at the start of a day.
"Hey hey, don't need to start name-calling..." His voice drops to a whisper as we go past Faern. "All energy into Running." is the Golden Rule of her class.
I concentrate on my legs, bringing them up to a 90 degree angle and deriving joy from slamming them onto the red track periodically. The boring "thump thump" of the 16 feet beside me is comforting. I can recognise any of their feet rhythms (th-thump th-thump is May's, the slow and steady 800m Runner, thump-thump-thump-thump is Jace's, the explosive 100m Runner), or know when one of them is gone (Sime isn't here today, Seth fills me in that he's gotten the Aches in his leg, his third this month), and who snuck in through the back gate halfway through the session (me). All of us can.
The thrumming of Vit-Pills in my head, Seth spouting some Ancient facts he somehow believes is relevant to Knee-ups, Faern yelling about our slackening pace, everyone's hastening to push themselves to move faster. All the normalcies stack one on top of the other.
Everyone's fallen into the sullen, customary silence of our trainings. Seth finally got the hint that I really wasn't listening to him at all. Faern's head dips in the tiniest of satisfied nods.
Everyone moves even faster.
-End Chapter-
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Word Count: 1452. Argh. Not at the mark yet!
