Outside, the weather raged.

The circular fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered every now and then due to the storm. The typically calm, sultry evening had suddenly taken on a completely different character. The large, wide room felt small compared to the crashing sounds outside. Perhaps this storm was a warning, a signal that the ordinary life everyone knew—one that followed the same monotonous routine every day—could just as easily change without warning.

Morbus shook the thoughts from his head and brought himself back to the present, the large, stale room where he waited. The corners of the room were filled with tall potted plants. The benches, once lined up against the wall, had mostly been taken away for materials, though some remained for those who needed a place to sit during busier times.

Morbus smirked.

Seems like late nights aren’t exactly a popular time to come for food.

What used to be the reception of an office building had been converted into one of many supply stations, intended to provide the citizens of Aquinox with food. The president wanted to ensure there was enough for everyone, after all. Every week, ration cards were handed out to the people, serving as a form of currency to exchange for boxes of provisions.

Morbus and his father rarely used up all their cards in a week. That’s why Morbus had decided to pick up a few extras this Sunday evening.

He pressed the small, round metal bell on the reception counter again.

Maybe they didn’t hear me the first time.

Soon, he heard footsteps approaching. A young, slim woman with black hair tucked under a baseball cap walked over.

“Good evening. How can I help you?”

“Hi, I came to pick up some extra food.” He handed her the few cards he had. “This should be enough for a medium box.”

The woman inspected the cards and nodded. “Just a moment,” she replied.

She stepped back through the doorway and returned shortly after with a cardboard box, placing it on the reception counter. The Aquinox logo, a gray circle with a red flame in the center surrounded by blue, wave-like lines, was printed on the front in bold ink. Next to it was the city’s well-known slogan:

Live protected, live forever.

“Here you go. Have a nice evening,” she said kindly.

Morbus thanked her, took the box, and headed for the exit. He opened the glass door to the street and stepped into the rainy evening air of Aquinox, making his way home.

* * *

Fortunately, Morbus was dressed well enough for the rain.

The streets were deserted. With the storm raging, most people stayed inside for safety. Morbus found the risk quite minimal.

Lightning always strikes the highest point, he remembered from school. As long as I stay between the buildings, nothing will happen to me.

As raindrops beat down on his raincoat’s hood, he crossed the street and turned onto another road. This was one of Aquinox’s longer streets, bustling with footsteps and chatter every day, yet calm and quiet by night—especially in weather like this.

I wonder what this place looked like before the flood, he mused.

Morbus couldn’t imagine vehicles polluting the streets back then, people glued to their phones without a thought for the future.

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I can’t imagine people were that... mindless.

But now, life was different. Since the flood, all cars had been banned by the president. He'd reserved all gasoline for emergencies and other purposes, repurposing the cars for materials like pipes, electronics, and modern technology. The only means of transportation were horses, bicycles, the underground metro, or simply walking.

Then Morbus remembered something.

Tomorrow’s already July 12th. That means we have history class again.

He groaned. History wasn’t exactly his favorite subject. But it was a mandatory lesson on the 12th of every month, a decision the president had made to remind everyone how fragile society was and how fortunate they were to live in a functioning one.

At least it’s just for one day.

The rest of his studies were a combination of math, chemistry, and physics, subjects he was far more interested in. Then again, there wasn’t much choice. Of the four Categories, only two involved school: Management or Science. His decision had been easy; working on the Wall or in the fields under the hot sun wasn’t something he could picture himself doing.

Morbus brushed aside his thoughts and felt the heavy rain again on his jacket. Only a little bit further, and he would be home.

* * *

He climbed the last few steps and opened the door to their apartment.

I wonder if Father’s still awake.

He shut the door, set the box under the coat rack, and hung his rain gear to dry. The hallway seemed to have absorbed some of the bleakness from outside. The old light bulbs overhead seemed dimmer than ever, or maybe it was just the black carpet swallowing up what little light there was. Two of the three doors at the end of the hall—left and straight ahead—were closed, but the one to the right was open, with a light on inside.

Morbus smelled a strong scent of wine.

Might be best if I don’t show my face right now. Not sure if he’s in the mood to see me.

“I’m back,” he called toward the open door. “Got the food.”

From the other side, he heard a muffled response that could pass for an “okay.”

Morbus opened the food box to see what was inside. Enough for three or four days—plenty of beans, lentils, fruit, and a few other greens. There were even some eggs and dairy.

Better put those in the fridge.

He picked up the box and opened the door straight ahead, avoiding looking too much at his father’s room.

The living room was small but cozy. On the right was a tiny kitchen with a door leading to a shower and toilet. On the left, a round table with two chairs, and against the back wall, a very comfortable gray sectional.

I’d love to have a cat here. Too bad Father isn’t interested.

He set the box on the counter, opened the almost-empty fridge beneath, and stored the eggs and dairy.

Good thing I went tonight. We didn’t have much left.

Morbus checked the clock.

Ten past eleven. Time to get some sleep.

He left the living room and went into the room on the right.

His room.

Morbus was glad to have a space of his own. Against the back wall was his bed with pitch black covers—his favorite color—which were still tangled from last night. To the left was a large wardrobe with sliding doors, and opposite the door, a desk with drawers underneath for schoolbooks and personal items.

I’m exhausted.

He took off his clothes and crawled into bed without pajamas. He grabbed his memorybook from under his pillow and opened it on today’s page.

Brought food, nothing special, he wrote down with the pen attached to the notebook.

He put the memorybook back and let his head fall on the pillow. He set an alarm on his phone for the next morning. Half-past eight.

That gives me a good nine hours of sleep.

Unlike most students, Morbus could never get enough sleep. He’d love nothing more than to stay in bed for fifteen hours, but that was a luxury reserved only for the weekends. The other days were just schooldays.

Did kids back then think about life the same way? he wondered. Or did the flood take everything from them? Could there even be anything left of the world beyond the Walls of Aquinox?

He found these kinds of questions fascinating, mostly because the president and the other leaders never seemed interested in answering them. They were too busy keeping Aquinox running.

A dull, dull life that will never change.

With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.

Little did he know, that dull life would change completely in just three days.