Chapter 1:
The sun hasn't come out yet again.
Today begins the New Year, and I haven't seen a ray of sunshine since I was four-years-old. They tell us it will come back when everyone agrees to abide by the utmost important rule of the Inclusion, which is utter happiness in all the decisions they make.
The Inclusion, a name that spews so much cruel irony it has almost its effect, if it weren't because they remind us every week who they are. They are our leaders, our self-appointed protectors from the threats of the Eternal Night Dwellers that nobody have seen in half a century. They say it is thanks to them; but their modesty and requests reached their limit when I realized i had a mind of my own.
I don't even bother opening the curtains anymore, the darkness is just as dark outside as inside. The artificial daylights come on automatically when you wake up, so it takes me a moment to gather my vision again. You get so accustomed to the night, your eyesight detests light. But not me, I yearn for the feel of even a single ray against my arm, my leg, my face, my hair. I walk out of my room. My mother comes unto the hallway to hug me gleefully, the greatest show of forced comformity as will ever witnessed. I don't know why she bothers, we're so many, we will never agree on one thing. Since some kids have never even seen the sun, some don't remember what color it is, we can't even agree that we would the sun back. Maybe that's how the Inclusion keeps its literal claws clasped around our heads. Their appearances frighten us. So diverse, so inhuman, and so powerful, that's their only true inclusion, themselves.
''Hello, mother,'' no affectionate greeting for her. She ignores it now, doesn't question it like she doesn't question authority or even the simplest of issues.
''Hey, honey. I made your favorite, eggs sunny-side up,'' she laughs every time she says that, saddens me even further when she does.
''Thanks,'' I say. I sit by the table eyeing the beauty in front of me, and savor every bite I take. Is this what the sun feels like, pure warmth inside? Who knows what warmth is anymore? ''See you whenever, mother,'' I say to see if she reacts truthfully.
''Ok, honey, be careful out there!'', she knows I always kid about that. But I know that someday I'll never come back, probably never see her again. I walk outside the apartment into nothingness, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Just another ''morning'' here in Blackrose the Community.
Chapter 2:
If only they knew how strong she was.
How she made a vow years ago to pretend to assimilate to this order, to see if they will keep their promise, to see light again, actual light, beautiful light, a power that can never be replicated by any lamp, any bulb, any source of electrical power.
The Sun, how she regrets having taken it for granted in her childhood, complaining every time the rays were too intense, the heat too much to bear for long, the sweat running down her arms, the blinding force it acquired in summer. She is resolute on staying alive until she sees it again, proudly illuminating this filth of a city, because the Sun doesn't discriminate, it shines everywhere, even if for a short while. Her longing overtakes her once more.
Everything she does, she does for her child, hoping that one glorious day she will see them smile again. Another vow she took, she cannot die without seeing Vee engorged in Sunlight again. Her, Vee's mother, feels the tears welling up and spilling afresh down her face. Vee doesn't see it, thinks she is just another drone of this new society, and that is what breaks her heart the most. She retires to her room this early in the ''morning'' once more to perform her ritual of sobbing, to let go of suppresed anger, sadness, sense of defeat and despair, to purge her heart of weakness in her privacy, where now almost her entire life is lived out, in fear, in shame, in lust, in love with this unreachable dream called inner warmth that seems to have never existed.
