3.1

Cass casually leaned against the vending machine, sipping from a can of fizzing lemonade with “actual lemon flavour” according to the print. She listened to Arah telling her about what happened in the sewing quarters today, because she knew all the gossip around those quarters.
      “And then Isolde apparently pulled a hand full of Divina’s hair out! Divina’s happy she has to wear those caps at work to prevent her hair from falling into the looms, because oh boy, does she have a horrible, awful, ugly bald spot right on the front left of her head!” Arah almost choked on her drink – something very pink and very sweet, with a rainbow on the front – due to laughter.
      “That’s… certainly something. How can they agree to that? Our enforcers would drag you out of the hall.”
      “Not sure, but they’re not very bothered by a full workshop of ladies who have some quarrels. Some enforcers seem entertained by it. Not much of a threat when some girls pull each other’s hair out or scratch one another I guess. Better to just let them bitch it out, instead of intervening and causing something much worse, probably?”
      “I’m so happy I wasn’t sent to those looming farms, I’d hate it there,” Cass exclaimed dramatically, laughing. She emptied her can and tried to decide if she should get another one. “When do we have to be in our bunkers?”
      “We still have at least an hour, you could just get another one. I see you looking and yearning for another can of sugary goodness, your eyes are basically drooling.” Arah got her own badge out of her pocket and dangled it in front of Cass. “If you don’t want to use your own credits, get one with mine. My treat. But please stop torturing yourself by abstaining from good things. It only makes life here more miserable.”
      Cass pushed the badge back to Arah’s pocket. “It’s fine. I can pay for it, and you’re right. I should just get what I like and enjoy. Hundreds probably died again today in that explosion, every day could be my last.”
      “Very poetic,” Arah teased. “Now go get that lemonade.”
      Cass nodded and swiped her badge in front of the vending machine, to get herself another one of the lemon drinks she loved. So simple, yet so sweet and amazing compared to the water she had to drink day in, day out. She savoured the sips she took of the second can, like this would be the last one she’d ever enjoy.
      The artificial sunlight slowly began to dim, simulating what was supposed to be dusk. It was a clear signal to all those who lived here: time to head to the bunkers, eat your rationed dinner and spend whatever free time you had inside the concrete walls of your room. If you were lucky, you had some fun bunkermates who came out in the hall to which all rooms led to have a talk. It wasn’t prohibited, but also not encouraged to have small talk after sundown.
      The younger generation liked to have some social interaction after their day at work or school, but the older people never came out of their rooms. They deemed it inappropriate to discuss their life with others if there was no immediate use for it or any advantage in it. A conversation had to be useful, for mutual gain, otherwise it was a waste of resting time.
      Cass had heard some of the elderly discussing this a few times, complaining about the youngsters wasting good sleeping time. “No wonder their speed at work is dragging us down,” they had said, thinking that the only ones dragging the others down were the young workers.
      All Cass had ever experienced with the bottling of pills, were the older people giving the others more work, because they sometimes worked at a pace even a newbie couldn’t work at. Some couldn’t actually help it and were excused, since they actually tried and offered their hands for the “greater good”.
      Others, on the other hand, seemed like they couldn’t care less anymore after all their years working. They weren’t bothered by the deduction of credits to pay for extras every month, the rations were apparently enough for them to live their lives.
      How can you possibly live like that? Cass had thought when she'd found out, but nowadays, she could sort of understand. She could see why you wouldn’t want to spend your final years wasting away in a factory, working non-stop and trying to live up to expectations you know you’ll never meet again.
      Only if you were deemed disabled or unfit for work by the enforcers were you allowed to stop your services and live the rest of your days somewhere away from the bunkers and factories. No one ever saw you again, but no one bothered either. They were just a mouth less to feed in the eyes of the workers.
      “It’s time to head home, isn’t it?” Arah sighed. She emptied her fourth – or was it fifth? – can of the pink sugary drink with rainbows and threw it in the trash can next to the vending machine. “I really hope that this will all be different someday. That we can spend our entire afternoon drinking these amazing drinks, enjoying each other’s company, instead of sewing or bottling pills.”
      “As cringy and cheesy as it sounds, I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my afternoons instead. Let’s go before we’re screwed, though.” Cass gently shook her can to check how much was left in it and decided it would be best to take it to her bunker with her. Better to enjoy it with a nice propaganda novel in hand than to chug it all right now.
      They swiftly walked towards the intersection where they both had to go a different way.
      “Have a good night, and I’ll see you again tomorrow! Wait for me near the gates again,” Arah smiled as she pulled Cass into a tight hug. The air was almost squished out of Cass’s lungs, but she hugged her friend back. With only a few minutes left to return to their respective rooms, they went their own ways.