Sentilia

Chapter 2

It was Saturday morning; I had nothing to do. Now and then when I got bored I'd go download some new book, but to my parent's bafflement I wasn't so fond of reading on a screen. So I watched transporters go by my window again. It was going to be a cloudy day, the temperature: a chilly 20°C.

I picked up the telephone; it started ringing in my hands. I didn't get surprised anymore, although it was still odd every time it happened. I wasn't able to see things that were going to happen, but I could feel them, since I was about eight years old. It had started after a troubling series of dreams that I barely remember. All I recall was the feeling I always had when I would wake up: a type of anxiousness mixed with fright.

I knew this wasn't normal. Though I fought to control the urge to pick up the phone, I still wasn't able to stop myself. It was a reflex.

My parents knew it wasn't normal, but they just ignored it. Every time I would bring it up, they would remind me not to tell anyone else about it, and then they would change the subject. Though I had secretly tried to research any existent record of similar behaviour on our public medical database, I hadn't found anything at all.

I answered the phone and transferred the call to the intercom; it was for my dad. When he hung up, he came to sit with me next to the window, an unfathomable expression on his broad face.

"Is something wrong, Maxine?"

My dad had always been very perceptive. That's what I didn't like about him. Even if I pretended everything was fine, he always knew better. We'd never talked about it, but he knew I wasn't really happy with this life. I still thought it was best to lie to him.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just looking for something to do."

"Well, you've got a couple of books you haven't read yet. Don't you like reading? I bet you could get yourself a new one. We haven't passed our limit yet."

We never went passed our limit. We never even came close to downloading or purchasing as much as we were allowed to.

"No, that's fine dad. I think I'm just getting a little sick, I'm going to drop by the med facility later." I tried to smile, but it wasn't very convincing.

"Do you want me to come with you?" His face lifted.

"No, thanks, I'll be fine."

My father still kept babying me all the time. I hadn't had much of a transition from being a child to being an adolescent; I had not given my parents a rough time during my puberty, like most kids do. So my parents never got the feeling that I'd grown up. They were still waiting for it to happen.

Today, I did feel sick, slightly nauseous, but it had often been used as an excuse to avoid talking about my real problem. I had never confided in my parents. To tell them that I was not fond of my "perfect" life was not something they would take very easily, since they loved their own. So I decided to shy away my feelings from them.

After breakfast, I got dressed and headed to the garage. It was located at the top of our apartment building. The transporters were all on the same floor. About 300 pin-shaped machines, some bigger, for bigger families, and others smaller, like mine, made for 2 people at the most. We each had our parking spot, and the transporters recharged themselves during the day. The solar panels covering the transporters took in the light that came in from the open ceiling.

I had to walk a while and take the elevator to get there, but on my way, I saw no one. I got to the garage: empty as well. I got to my transporter, which I tried to use the least I could because it made me dizzy, and I climbed in the front seat, telling it where to go. I lifted off and couldn't see where I was going, the solar panels covering the whole transporter, but 5 minutes later, I was at the medical facility.