Dying For Change Pt 2
Amy woke up fully clothed and sprawled on her sofa. For a few disorientating seconds she just lay there, feeling the hair in her mouth and the sleep in her eyes. But those precious seconds passed too quickly and the events of the previous day caught up with her like a wolf chasing its prey. She bolted upright, knocking her pollution mask to the ground. The clock on the mantle ticked irritably, reminding her that the day wouldn't wait for her trauma to pass.
The journey to work was painful and this time it wasn't entirely the train's fault. Amy purposely stood as far away from her usual spot as possible. She daren't close her eyes incase she saw the dead man again so instead she stared at the corner of one of the carriage seats. It was old and tatty, its original colour covered by layers of grime and an impressive array of stains. But not impressive enough; Blue-eyes invaded her vision and Amy had to pinch herself to extinguish the panic that was bubbling like an active volcano in the pit of her stomach.
As the train pulled into Scarlett Station, the majority of people got off, leaving behind only the clean and healthy. Amy watched them go, a giant mass of grey whose collective life expectancy was less than her own. One of the workers was a young boy who looked like he had never met puberty and yet he moved like an old man. Stiff legs. Hunched back. He became little more than a speck of grey as the train laboured on.
It was another hour before Amy arrived in the inner city and it was like entering a whole new world. Glass towers that disappeared above the clouds acted like tree trunks for the branches of pods that filled the remaining space. At the bases of these structures were millions upon millions of air purifiers and ventilators, keeping the air cool enough to travel in. Amy removed her pollution mask and took a moment to savour the sweet, clean air of the inner city.
Maiden Cosmetics Store was on the 32nd floor of The Elizabeth Shopping Centre in the 16th district of the inner city. After multiple tube journeys and a battle through the surging crowds of people, Amy finally entered through Maiden's huge doors that routinely showed adverts displaying products that looked and smelled like heaven. Scented adverts had been Chloe's idea. Everyone thought it was ingenious except for Amy- the numerous scents just gave her a headache.
Standing next to the door was Rani, an immaculately dressed woman who wore heels higher than Amy's aspirations. She greeted her with a raised eyebrow and an exaggerated look at her very expensive watch. Amy was too distracted to come up with an excuse as to why she was late. She simply inserted her ear piece, clipped her name badge onto her breast pocket, and inserted the computer interface that would allow her to access all necessary information into her eye. It looked identical to a contact lens but for all its technological superiority, it was still a pain to put in. Amy blinked back tears and resisted the urge to rub her eyes as she entered the maze of isles that held every beauty product imaginable.
Shelf stacking was boring work but it was better than working with dangerous chemicals whilst completely unprotected like The Bins residents. Amy was in the middle of placing a box of Terri Malibu's new love potion lipsticks on a stupidly high shelf when her lens flashed red. She stopped what she was doing, moving her eye to open the message. What she read nearly toppled her off the floating platform:
MEET ME AT THE MALPENSE FOUNTAIN ON THE 56TH FLOOR AT 5:30PM. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU COME OTHERWISE YOUR LIFE WILL GET CONSIDERABLY WORSE.
Amy barely had time to finish the message before it disappeared. She tried to access it again but it had crashed her network. Her brain was moving faster than the speed of light, dumping question after question on top of her, so much so that she had to sit down. What the hell was that? Who had sent the message? What did they mean by considerably worse? She could feel a headache drilling into the base of her skull. She didn't need this.
Her watch read 11:30 am. The headache renewed its attack with twice the ferocity. Six hours. She had to wait six hours before she could get any answers. The volcano of panic started bubbling inside of her. Amy Masemola, she thought, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?
