Jake woke up to the soft humming of his air-conditioned room, with an easy light peeking its way through his door from the living room. His parents were at it again. Soft murmurs and in between loud snaps, trying their best not to wake him up. He got off his bed, looked at the curtains to see if they were blinded. Yes, they were. Good. Tied on his watch, checked himself and went to the living room. There on the dining under a single fluorescent light that hung over them, sat his parents clearly disturbed by a new argument, whatever that might be today. He rolled his eyes, took to the creaky fridge. Water in hand, jumped over their sunken couch. A little startled by his intrusion, his Mum exclaimed coming over to him and rubbing his messy hair: “Jakey! Your Up so early. What happened, not sleepy”. Annoyed with the regular rubbing, he replied: "Nahh. What’s happening? Is it the new report now?" His Mother looks over at his father shooting a worried glance: "No, it’s just your dad and I were talking about something else, nothing to worry about. Don’t you have a session to complete today? When’s your class due, around 9?" She turned and went over to the kitchen counter clearly not waiting for the answer.
Breakfast these days weren’t exciting. It was either dry toast with egg substitutes or peanut butter. The Tab over the dining counter with its projected holographic screen flashed the local news headlines in bold and flamboyant colours - “Hottest month recorded”, “Acid rains or Devil's tears?”, "Dust storms terrorise the state of ...” It just went on. The usual ones. Jake evoked a vague memory of what his parents recalled before all of this began. People used to walk outside without a gear. There were parks, benches, beaches, flowers, birds and forests. Its all a remembrance now. At least still fresh within his parent’s memories.
In their dark lit room, with metallic tables, rugged furniture and a scrappy floor with an uninteresting ceiling, Jake could only wish he could open those curtains. Those windows to the outside forgotten world. But those curtains and the thermal insulated walls behind them were their protection. The ventilated duct’s filtered air from the outside, kept them alive. The water that ran their taps were stringent but salty, which was a luxury anyways. Even the watch that was strapped to his wrist constantly monitored his SpO2 levels which he was warned by his parents in any case to not be removed. Well, he was an active child born with weak lungs but a beautiful mind. His last report also came in recently showing his weakest lung reports until date. Nonetheless, His parents loved his painting and visuals of the outside world which they would stick on their fridge until its glue would gradually dry and fall off.
His father wore his dark, head to toe - heavy gear and prepared to step out, whispering to his mother: “I’ll try, just don’t worry”. He then pecked her cheek with a kiss which was already red with worry, now more prominent than a few minutes back. After the final pressurised hiss of air left from closing their door, she placed her Tab on the kitchen counter and left for the latrine. Not a minute later, a news feed pops up and broadcasts an emergency “Urgent alert to all citizens of the island, oxygen supplies will end by this week. We repeat, oxygen supplies and cylinders will deteriorate to an extent where we shall not ever receive supplements or assistance in the near future. God help us all. God help us. I repeat…”It trailed off. His mind trailed off and now he knew why the snaps and why the murmurs. Why the red face and why the tears. Or maybe he knew this is it. Maybe this is the way they would end their dark existence within these chambers. They always prepared him, his parents, for an end. He imagined it in ways it could be easier but everytime the reality burned even deeper into his mind. He remembers his younger self dreamed and imagined an escapade of some sort, where he would go up with them into the skies, guessing a plane might take them there, to another world, or maybe another facility. He’s not sure but free of worries, free of heat, free of dust and free of those burning rains. That he would be healed and they would all be happy. A click from the latrine door and his mother walked in with swollen bloodshot eyes, a weary smile upon her lips, came over to him and caressed him as they waited in solitude listening to that soft humming.
