Braving the Storm

I

Scott

Brave was home, and there was no way for Scott to refute that. The city was all that he had ever known, with its high buildings and strong cement walls. Scott had grown up in this city, along with everyone else, with rigid rules and schedules put in place by the Mayor. The Mayor was only known as the Mayor and no one ever questioned it.

His rules and schedule still applied to him to this day, even if he was twenty-five. Of course it had changed over time, but he didn't have total freedom. All he got was a later curfew. Still, it was better than nothing.

Scott currently worked as a cargo worker in a hanger for planes. He never knew where these planes went--that was the job of the guy in charge, Ethan--but he did know that these planes flew high into the clouds and went over the walls to whatever surrounded them.

In school, Scott was told that there was violence and hatred going on outside the walls. There was war at every turn. People would steal and lie and cheat until there was nothing left of them. They were lucky to be in Brave, far away from all of that. Scott had to agree. He never liked to fight and to think about it being every day made him shiver.

"Scott, stop daydreaming and get back to work!" Someone said angrily. He felt a sharp, but not painful, slap on the back of his head, putting him back to work on securing a package with tape.

"Sorry, Ethan." Scott mumbled. It was customary. When you did something wrong, you were to apologise without question. Scott knew he shouldn't have been daydreaming.

"As you should be." Ethan stated, scratching at a stubbly cheek as he exited the door and went into the packaging room next door.

"He's touchy, isn't he?" A coworker asked. He was a new guy named Kevin. He never said where he was from and Scott had never seen him around before. Kevin said that he was older than Scott was, so that had to explain it.

"You don't even know the half of it. He's always been like this." Scott replied with a tiny chuckle. "But don't talk too loudly. These walls are paper thin and he's got strong ears."

The two both quieted down, going back to their rhythmic work of Scott applying tape and Kevin sliding them through the scanner and through the chute that sent them down to the loading area. It was calming yet also boring. Scott wished he had gotten an interesting job like Mitch, his best friend, had gotten. Mitch had managed to get a job in one of the nursing homes in the city centre where the elderly went. The elderly always went to the nursing home at the same age, fifty-five. Scott was worried for the day his parents would end up there. They were reaching their final years as regular citizens. Once they were there, Scott would have very limited times to see them. Most openings for visits were during his work hours.

As much as Mitch complained about the fussiness of the elderly, Scott would have much preferred it. He doesn't like being stuck in a metal facility all day. There weren't even any windows, just grates that allowed any sort of fumes to escape before they could harm workers.

"They're so picky about their tea," Mitch would complain. "Tea, Scott. Tea! You'd figure that they'd be more picky about how their pillows are situated."

Scott guessed that he could understand why Mitch hated his job. He was always so jittery and on the move that such slow and quiet work must be almost painful to do. He probably would have suited messenger better, delivering mail and always moving around, but he had been disqualified from the job. Scott didn't know why Mitch was unable to get such a simple job, but Mitch seemed to. He never said anything, however.

Kirstie, Avi and Esther were some of Scott's other close friends. They had also all gotten much more interesting jobs than Scott. Kirstie got a job as a teacher, which was one of the best you could get in terms of pay. Avi had gotten a job as a labourer, just like Scott, but he stayed above ground in the park, making sure everything was immaculate. Esther had gotten the impressive job as a manager of a small clinic, which she took very seriously.