Under the Surface

The Lowest of the Low

I'm the lowest of the low, but at least I have the opportunity to attend a school. It has less than 100 students and can't even provide breakfast or lunch for them. I'm 16 by the way, and I have a younger sister, Xela, who's only 7. After school is finished, I walk a mile home everyday.

As you walk the streets of Omega, not only is it dangerous, it's sad and grotesque. Kids playing in unsanitary ground water, people doing various drugs, and occasionally, a dead body or two. As I'm walking home with my 4 notebooks and 2 textbooks, each passed down at least 10 times before, a kid comes running up to me.

"Mister, do you have anything to eat?"

I looked down at her and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her friends hiding behind a concrete building, waiting for her to return with good news. They were all pencil thin, an unhealthy but common look in Omega.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile.
"I'm sorry. Not today." She put her head down and shuffled off toward her friends.

I clenched my fist and ran the rest of the way home. Why us? Why innocent people? I opened the front door of my families small wooden shack and stepped inside. It smelled how it always smelled: potatoes.

"Finn? Is that you?" My mother appeared from another room. Her smile would cheer me up no matter what.

"Welcome home sweetie. Rations have been delivered today. Let's eat."

Rations of potatoes, water, and other foods grown artificially down here are passed out each month. They're grown in old greenhouses from when the first Moles lived down here. For decades the greenhouses have been able to feed its people equally. Now with population of moles increasing again, it's struggling. Greenhouses are the basis of the 3 sections as well. Pruitt has more greenhouses than Alpha, and Alpha has more than us.

But of course, rations they say last for a month really only lasts for 2 weeks at best, leaving lots of starving and riots in those times. Those kids on the streets were obviously orphans, and even the government here pretends they don't exist. We're no better than Surfacers...

"Finn!" I snap out of my resentment and focus. My little sister runs towards me and hugs my leg.

"Hey Xela." These were the rare moments you got to enjoy here in Omega.

"Did you learn anything cool today?" she asked with excitement.

"I sure did."

"Tell me! Tell me!" She was always excited when I came back from school. She wanted to know anything and everything. You can't attend school until you're a teenager, if you live that long of course. Mortality rates are the highest they've ever been here.

"I'll tell you at the kitchen table. C'mon, lets eat." I took a total of 10 steps and was already seated. Mom placed a plate in front of me.

1 baked potato, steamed carrots, and a glass of water. The normal meal for people here usually. People would kill to have what we have, and they do.

Mom sat down at the table and watched as Xela scarfed her food down.

"Slow down child! You're going to be hungry for the next 2 days if you eat that fast." I scooped a forkful of carrots into my mouth and my tongue exploded. I've eaten this same meal hundreds of times but it never gets old.

"Finn! Tell me now!" Xela said.

"Fine, fine. Today we learned about the history of the Moles and the Surface."

"Ooo cool!" I couldn't tell if she knew what the Surface was or not. Neither me or Mom has told her what the world truly is.

"What else did you learn?"

"Well we-" Suddenly there was a knocking on the front door.

"I'll get it." I said quickly. I knew who it was. I strode over to the front door and opened it a crack.

"What?" I hissed.

"What are you doing? C'mon, they're making rounds right now."

"I can't. I have homework?"

"Homework? Since when has Finn Portman prioritized homework over the sick and poor?"

Jake Gutierrez, my best friend. We've known each other since we were 5, and we're pretty much inseparable. Recently we've been robbing Ration Caravans and giving the food to orphans and other people in need.

Noble Thieves.

Neither Mom or Xela knows, and I intend to keep it that way. Mom would never let me break the law to do something right.

"C'mon Portman! I even heard some of those Caravans are going to Alpha in a few hours, we could hitch a ride and-"

"I said no!" I bit my lip. It was tempting, too tempting.