The Protagonist Speaks

Dear readers, tonight with us is the protagonist from a Utopian world, where everyone lives on massively tall monolithic buildings, and social status is determined by literally how high up you live. She is here to tell us about her world, about moving between levels, and encountering an agent that governs the building.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I was born and raised in a monolith. It has a tall center with multiple branches of pods extending from that. Escalators at either end run the entire length of the core. They have stops at each level, with latrines placed conveniently close to the exits so that you don’t have an accident when traveling long distances.

I was not quite lowlith, but not far off, which meant the first pod I remember was slightly below the mid levels. There aren’t as many windows there, but there are a few. I spent quite a few nights sneaking out for a moment at a window. The sky at dawn is particularly beautiful, as it splashes colour against the pale grey walls of the halls.

The left side of the mid pods were mainly used for agriculture. The right is for processing them. I can still remember the smell of compost, which reminds me of why I work as hard as I do. The children’s ward was directly below one of the lower levels of the mids, and while I’ve been told smells rise, this one definitely rose and fell like some sort of decaying cloud.

Did you have any favourite toys as a child? Any cherished memories?

I have an abacus from the children’s ward. I wasn’t supposed to take it, probably, but I don’t think it was missed. The other children were more interested in baby dolls or ball and sticks.

I wanted a grown up doll that looked like one of my first carer’s Ms. Renton. She was so incredibly beautiful I used to imagine she was an Elite.  I was informed by the Matrons dolls with breasts were out of the question. Apparently they needed to protect my morals. Strange, since half the monolith has them.

I’m getting off track. The abacus. It was brought by my second carer, Mr. Dirby. He taught me to count, which was a joy to me. Everything could be ordered, and that calmed me down like nothing else could. I looked forward to Mr. Dirby’s hours.

Of course, he had one look at Ms. Renton and ruined everything. They both transferred out of the children’s ward. Heard they are together to this day, with their brood of non-orphans to watch over. The bright side is he forgot his abacus. When I aged out, I smuggled it under my coat. I keep it on my desk.

On to your next question… Well,  I’m an orphan raised in a sea of wanted children. Few cherished memories. Let me think. I liked the pudding I had once at one of the other kid’s birthday party! I don’t know what the flavor was exactly, but it was the first time I’d had anything that sweet.

What do you do now?

In my current job, I run numbers. Funny how that worked out! I try to keep things running smoothly. Always learning more about people around me. Information is power, another motto. But I’ve done it all! Laundry, peeling vegetation, turning compost, assembling gadgets and do dads, minder of children, secretary, dispatcher, seamstress… There’s more, but I can see your eyes glaze over at the monotony of the list. Believe me, mine did too.

What can you tell us about your latest adventure?

Know what I just said about eyes glazing over? It was noticed.

I was about to move to a higher lith level. I was literally in the middle of a tour with a real estate agent when I found out my account had been tampered with. The apartment was denied even though I had the CAVES! You can imagine how that felt… no. Perhaps you can’t. There is no graceful way to say I lost it.

I only go to the Bureau of Society Betterment under duress. Endless forms and the fear of reassignment if they decide it suits. Did I mention the whole place drives you mad because there is absolutely nothing besides bureaucracy to look at?