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I wake up with the other side of the pillow covered in sweat.
My fingers stretch out, seeking my phone's warmth but finding only the itchy bedding that covers the mattress.
This was the routine I've adopted after I left my country. I wake up, check my phone and look at the news.
I've been off the grid for nearly a month now, even then my fingers still instinctively reach out for it whenever I need a distraction.
I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to hurtmy eyes and make the dust particles floating in the air visible. I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my worn boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, a respirator and a pair of glasses that are held together at the front by a piece of duct tape.
On the nightstand, under a water bottle to prevent it from flying away, sits a crumpled family picture. The only one I managed to salvage before I made my escape. My step-brother, Jong-Hyun stood by my mother's side, her hand on his shoulder. My father's authoritarian stance. Me as a 12 year old, before I chopped my hair and dyed it an ugly shade of copper. They were all smiling. I was smiling alongside them. In the picture, my mother looks younger, still worn but not-so-beaten down. Hyun's face is as full as a peach, and my father wore his presidential uniform that day. This was the only time I have ever seen him smile in my life.
I take a swig out of the bottle and nearly gag. It has a strange, metallic after taste reminiscent of tap water.
What did I expect? It was a shady motel, after all.
I grab the picture along with my bag and toolbox and step outside the room, heading downstairs to pay the man behind the counter my motel fee. He looks at me weirdly when I ask to pay in Qin instead of Federation credits.
"You dont have a phone?"
He asks.
"No."
"What happened to it? You lost it or something?"
"...Sure."
I pull out 500 Qin from my pocket, not really wanting to continue the conversation. I can feel his judgmental stare as I slide the bill across the counter.
"People here don't carry cash nowadays, unless they're hiding from authorities... Are you from Han?"
He questions, pryingly. I dont answer.
"Please keep the change sir."
I leave the rusty motel without another word.
—
This part of Shimbou used to be an area that connected Han-ja to Teppen through a high speed rail system. But ever since Han-ja closed its borders, the city has long been abandoned. The windows of the gray buildings remain shut. The air is just as clouded in fumes as every other city in Teppen, the pollution being more apparent during the day when the sky is visible. The black cinder streets are always empty, save for the street dogs and the few people who try and make a living out of renting rooms to weary travellers. Two days from now there will be a celebration for Exodus day, which means I have to head to the Shigure quick before the motels become flooded with guests.
Han-ja is almost at the edge of the train tracks, if you follow it closely. You only have to pass a few gates before you enter the red zone, the border between Han-ja and Teppen where Order Control take turns patrolling at night.
Separating Han-ja from the red zone--infact--enclosing all of Han-ja itself is a giant steel wall made of Nirosta, with face-detecting cameras installed on top designed to follow a person's every move. The steel is so smooth, its practically unclimbable. Han-jans are instructed to stay 6 feet away from the wall at all times or else they risk getting sniped on the spot by a watchtower guard. Or worse, be profiled as a fugitive and get thrown into a labor camp for the rest of their lives. In theory, Order Control should be patrolling the outskirts of Han-ja, 24-hours a day within a 50 mile radius. But since the last and only defector case happened in 1999, they decided to take longer breaks during the night.
Having a decent brain comes in handy when you're a fugitive, and so does having a prime minister as a step-father. I was lucky enough to sneak past the cameras because of a blindspot, and even luckier to have invented a pair of magnetic gloves that could withstand my weight. One day, I overheard the Attorney General talk to my father about the new patrolling schedule, and waited for the perfect time to plan my escape.
It took me a week to get far enough from Han-ja to consider myself a defector. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the shuffling of feet that meant Order Control was near. I spent my nights sleeping inside abandoned trains and tinkering with my gloves. Ocasionally, I would check my phone and read the articles they wrote about me, feeling guilty as I imagined how Hyun would be feeling.
On the 5th night, I added a make-shift laser using the engine parts and utilized it for squirrel hunting. During the day, I would follow the railroad tracks, until I eventually reach the outskirts of Teppen.
As soon as Im in the outskirts, the first thing I do is destroy my phone to avoid being traced. Within the borders or not, the government had a way of tracking down its defectors. Better to be safe than.. well, killed.
