The Cold Night (Short Story)

in Scholar and Scribe2 months ago

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Drops falling one by one. Each paved the way for the next to follow. Sadly they fell, and proudly the next took up their position ready to jump. Each would dive after their friends. None knew what awaited them, but still they came.

I wish I was like a drop of water. Jequin thought as he lay in his, "mobile bed," as it had been referred.

The company handed them out happily. They spoke about them as if they were something new. Something next level. Something good.

"These will keep you warm, they're quick to put down and far quicker to put away. The best part is, they're also water-proof." Jequin was lucky enough to receive his while on camera. The politician posing as a volunteer gladly spoke with compassion.

Once the camera was off, they were too. The persona dropped as they slithered back into their vehicle, follower closely by armed guards.

A crowd had had gathered during the hand-outs and each had questions. They were ignored.

A second crowd gathered and were hidden behind a line of ZPD. Jequin could still hear the echo of insults. They could not be ignored fully, it did help that he couldn't understand the many accents of Free Space.

Another drop took him back to the present, and soon another followed. He closed his eyes and started to count the drips.

He awoke to a crunch of some rubbish, and as he jumped he could hurry the scurrying footsteps of vermin as they ran to their hiding place.

Yet again, he would get no sleep. Throwing back the covers of his "mobile bed," he stood up. Eyes burning, and feeling weak from it all. The sudden movement caused him to cough. Catching his breath he inhaled deep. The smell of decay was strong. Reaching down, he pulled the cord of his blanket and it automatically scrunched up, allowing itself to be attached to the shoulder of his jacket, where it fell into place resting at his back.

Jequin left the room, stepping over some other Humans as he navigated the darkened room lightly.

The building was old, decrepit, and rotting from the inside out. Moisture was allowed to enter, there it remained to fester in the cold.

Some low whisper in the common room caught his attention and he shuffled inside. He wrapped his arms around himself trying to hold onto some warmth which could perhaps fight the chill that sank into his bones. It was no use.

The whispers stopped as he enter.

"Jequin, come here, sit with us." He was greeted by a familiar voice. The voice however floated in the dark, where each figure was featureless. "I was telling the others about a movement I heard about, they're called Humanity First, apparently, they're a group dedicated to bringing in rights for Humans. Sanitation, food, housing, clothes, real supplies; a better life."

Jequin shook his head. "Like that would go down well, the Jex government don't care, and the Free Spacers despise us."

"From the head down this world is rotting; but, with enough people calling for change they'll have no choice but to listen. There are more Humans coming from the Confederation each day,"

"I'd give anything for a shower," another voice whispered in the dark.

"We need to organise," the first voice continued passionately. "We deserve better than this. Our voices will be heard,"

"What if they don't listen?"

"They'll have no choice." They replied. "The Free Spacers are organising, so must we."

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Your story exposes a very current reality, politicians who only think about themselves and do not care about the well-being of the people. Very interesting to read.

Thanks for sharing your story.
Excellent day.

This particular story was written in the lore and sort of world bible of this sci-fi world, it's something I really want to delve into a bit more, but my mind is a bit skewed at the moment between a few ideas, I would like to focus on this a bit and get the ideas out there