US v THEM

2000

  Five, four, three, two, one...

  There it is; the year two thousand has finally come and we officially begin a new era. Mom used to think a lot about the passage to a new century; it's a shame she is not here with us to celebrate it. As for Sommar, she cannot conceal her excitement. I think she feels like she owes it to our mother somehow. And that is it—life no longer has something to offer.

  "Happy new year!" we all shout in chorus when Roman finishes counting down.

  Of course it was approximation; we waited for the sky to go dark and for Roman to start the countdown when he deemed the time right. All the survivors are gathered at the cafeteria and the director is pleased to announce that this year everybody would have a glass of wine—he has been saving the alcohol for the occasion, though I suspect him of having opened one bottle before. What can I say? We did it too on Vinter's birthday last week.

  Everyone claps and exults; never have I witnessed such a time of joy, not even before the apocalypse. I find myself cheering with everyone as we are all poured a drink—the children as well. Höst turns to us and smirks when his turn comes. We are only given a drop but some people here have not seen the color of red wine in years.

  Frank, Nathaniel, Stacy and Aron are seated at the same table as us like usually. It feels nice to be able to celebrate the New Year among friends and family. However, we all noticed that Stacy has been down in the dumps lately and this party—if we can call it that—does not seem to do much about it. She refuses to tell us what is afflicting her though. She is smiling tonight but it is not fooling anyone; at least not me. Maybe someday she will feel confident enough to share her troubles with us. In the meantime, I think we should all respect her wish to keep quiet.

  "My friends," Roman takes the floor, plunging the room into a deferential silence. "First of all, I care about expressing my gratitude once more to Sommar here, without whom this celebration would have probably taken place months later. Thank you for giving us the first of January of the year two thousand. Not only is it the beginning of a new year but also that of a new century. And a century that will still be ours. Never will we let it fall into the rotten fetid hands of those things out there. They might have taken the world, but they will never have the Second World."

  The audience applauds, including me. He does know how to captivate his listeners, I'll give him that.

  "But before we gulp down our drinks," he continues, "let us raise our glasses to the future."

  As soon as we do, Cher appears at the door, holding a new-born baby in her arms. And we all understand what the future was referencing to. Everybody gawks at them as Cher slowly walks through the tables, making her way to Roman who awaits proudly.

  "Beautiful," he declares when the baby comes to him. "This—this is the future."

  I have never seen this look in Roman's eyes before. In fact, I have never seen it in anyone's. That baby is the world's New Year present, from it to us and from us to it. He brought more life into a room that was already full of it. And everybody stares at the scene.

  "Welcome to the Second World, little guy," Roman says as he strokes his cheek tenderly.

  The sight is not as heart-warming as it is probably supposed to be. I remember inquiring into sects and cults for a school project once; that's what it reminds me of. We do not believe in any god—all the Christians here have lost their faith—but sometimes it feels like Roman desires to be worshipped as one. All the gatherings and celebrations seem like a way for him to grandstand. He is the most powerful person in this place, its director and its strategist. I should be afraid of him but I cannot. Maybe it is only physical. I have always disliked the way society worked and could at least consider its disappearrance a positive consequence of the apocalypse. But here it is again. It seems like living together is only guaranteed and permitted by a hierarchical system; but unless it is fairly managed, it is doomed to fall.