by The siren sings at 06:00.
Three notes the Council calls “comforting.”
It’s a lie, like everything that comes in neat triangles.
I roll off my bunk and press my thumb to the Door-Eye. Green. Permission.
“Citizen Mara Kestrel,” the speaker chirps, “today’s mood quota is Gratitude.”
I smile because cameras like teeth. In the mirror, my mouth looks borrowed.
Outside, Greyline Street is a river of uniforms. We move in the approved rhythm:
step,
breathe,
step, while drones hum overhead.
At the kiosk, a woman ahead of me hesitates. One heartbeat too long. Her eyes flick to the posters: YOUR THOUGHTS ARE SAFE WITH US.
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SAFE is underlined twice, because that makes it true.
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A drone dips.
Light paints her face blue. She forces a grin. The scanner blinks red anyway.
“Noncompliance detected,” it says, cheerful. “Recalibration required.”
Two Wardens peel her out of the line like a stitch.
Nobody reaches. Reaching is an action, and actions get interpreted. Dealt with.
My turn.
The clerk doesn’t look up. He slides my ration bar across the counter
Grey… flavourless… shaped.
“Have a compliant day.”
“I always do,” I say. My voice comes out smooth, polite, the voice I keep on my tongue like a coin.
But inside, where no one listens, my thoughts are sharp stones.
At lunch I sit beneath the Gratitude Banner and chew until the bar becomes paste. Across from me, Jae taps a code on his cup:
three knocks, knockknockknock
a pause,
one knock. Knock
Our old classroom rhythm. A question.
Are you ready?
I answer: one, one, two.
Not yet.
Tonight,
when the city switches to Sleep Mode,
I will go to the laundry vent behind Block C. I will bring a
screwdriver and
my best fake smile.
I will whisper my real name into the dark and wait…………….
for it to echo back.
Ramblings & Random Rants 
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