The city woke before the sun.
The sound of pipes screeched beneath the floors, echoing along the halls of the station.
The long train halls, ribbed caverns of metal— not built from human, but grown from hastily welded steel and forgotten machinery, like something long dead. Pressure valves inhale then exhale— the air was thin, too thin.
The world's dwellers held their breath.
A low hum amidst the train tracks— Then
WHOOM.
A blur of chrome called the Spine, looping through the planet— dragging violent surges of oxygen.
Every sixty seconds , always.
The walls of the Messmer's family home— constructed from raw sheets of half- finished steel, rattling under the crumbling halls. Their house sat directly outside the tracks of the tracks, with vents rattling under every waking moment. The air rapidly whipped into the vents— following a mild temporary bliss of fullness — but quickly thinned to it's usual; throat-burning and every inhale tightening one's chest.
Crowe and Archie— the children of the Messmer home. Awoke gasping for air, their usual. But William Messmer, their father, didn't sleep.
He couldn't, not anymore.
Sat upright on the kitchen table, spine slouched, one arm rested on the surface of the table and the other suspended and swinging. The stump of his missing leg, pulsed with memories of phantom pain. His wife, Maria, coldly bandaging him back up— the room filled with the smell of stale and cheap disinfectants. They were used to this.
Within the dry air, his comm-line crackled, followed by a mechanical voice, too monotone to be human.
—Payment Processed. Flesh weight confirmed 4 kilograms. 32 Stabiliron Pills and 3kg of FleshFoods
William sighed under his breath. Good, the limb was received, that settles this week.
Cannibal madness. Flesh-eating insanity. The world relied on human flesh, all life but man is dead. The mind twisting agony came from eating strain responsive flesh- flesh like William's. Flesh that grew back. But the pills, they save you from the mind rotting pains.
William replied. His voice shaking, from pain.
"The pills arrive yet?"
—Processing. Please standby.
After the several minutes, the comm-lines came back on. Behind that device spoke a voice. "We need confirmation Mr. Messmer. You reported full limb regrowth 4 hours after extraction, please verify your status". William's stomach churned, He looked down on his missing leg.
Ugly. Rotten. Bones protruding. No signs of regeneration.
Maria tenses her mouth.
The truth would only serve as penalty. They could stop feeding Crowe, Archie and Maria.
They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back. They could take the pills back.
He waved his finger, signalling Maria to grab the NeuroSoft™. She hurriedly ran towards it, pulling its cap. William clenching onto his blood-soaked towel, inhaling through the pain. Silently, He grabbed the NeuroSoft™, flicking onto the needletip. And slowly, administered it. His pain faded to a halt. His voice calmed.
"Yeah" he said gently. His words almost stuck on the back of his throat. It's... it's coming quick this time.
Silence penetrated the other end. The system analyzing his tone. William worried, he had to push harder.
"Already warm, boss. Should be ready for extraction soon."
Pause—
—Excellent. Your next extraction is scheduled in 3 days and 14 hours, 10pm. Please do not consume your own flesh as it might accelerate instability in strain hormones. Pills and FleshFoods will be directed to Pneumatic Tube D7. The unlock will be under the finger print of William Messmer and in the case of emergency, Maria Messmer.
The comm-line died. And in a moment's hurry, William grabbed his crutches — breath fractured. His body buzzing with the calmness of chemical pacification. But his mind was thrashing from within. He stepped out the front door.
The station — air thin, each breath lighter than it should be. He had to get to the other side of the train tracks. To the Limb Market's Pill office — closer within the netSphere— the unknown heart of the world that governs it's people. He slowly hugged the cracks of his wall, squeezing himself along the sides.
He always hated this part.
The low hum of dark walls.
The gasp of every citizen clutching for thin air.
Above him the ceiling rattled.
He waited for the train, quietly focusing on his ears. Slowly—
WHOOM.
William hastily, limping towards the ladder, climbed down. He needed to get to the other side of the ladder and past the train tracks.
He limped, faster and faster, slowly counting.
30 seconds left.
NeuroSoft™ slowly thinning, sharp pain in his leg resurfaced like bugs gnawing at it. He firmly grabbed the rungs of the ladder. Threw his crutches to the top. And climbed, one rung after another.
10 seconds left.
Each breath clenching his chest, accelerated from both the Spine Line and the suffocating air. His mind getting more desperate.
Exhausted, he hurled himself towards the top—collapsing on the sides of the subway, finally reaching the inner side. And before he could swallow air that barely existed. A low hum reemerged.
WHOOM.
The Spine Line blasted past him, without care of if he made it up or not. Vents rattled, Sheets of metal roared. And as the NeuroSoft™ faded away — with his barely contained mind, he rose, grabbing on his clutches and aligning himself back up. And ahead of him, slow flickering neon lights booted up with "Limb Market"— The only source of hope for the Dwellers in this bygone world.
He hated this walk. Every step, constant gazes pierced the back of his head, having sold his limbs for decades, but still unwelcome. It's the natural law of this world. He hated the walk here than losing his limbs. He hated it more than lies, more than pain.
But the boys need him.
Maria needs him.
And sanity came in the form of stale white pills.
He limped towards the Pill Office, towards the only thing piecing him and his families minds together. Towards the place that constantly reminded him.
He will be nothing but fuel.
He stepped into the gates of the Office, nothing but a terminal computer stood infront of him. He typed d7, placed his fingers on the bio scanner, confirming himself. And emerged from clankings of old bygone machinery— 15 Stabiliron Pills and 3kg of FleshFoods.
"Fuck.." William muttered.
The VigilNet guards usually take 2-3 pills per dweller, but they protected and made order in this sad world. But this time they took more than half, a sign of even more desperate times.
In a fit of rage, William yelled. "Only fifteen fucking pills, Nevermind 7 days, how am i supposed to last 3 days with this! The fucking netDogs knicked my stash!"
He needed all 32 Pills for himself and his family, so he could "regenerate" and extract again, he really needed all 32. But with 15, and a family to boot.
"It's fine.." He lied to himself. "It's really fine". But it really wasn't
He twisted the cap, gulping a pill down his dry throat. Scraping as it descended. But slowly, the soft relief of a sane mind, easing his strain-driven mind. But then, the insanity grew deeper.
Nothing changed. Not enough.
One more pill. Not enough.
Two more pills. Not enough.
No effect. This was the worst agony he's been in all his life.
Suddenly, it dawned on him. His family might not make it past this week. His knees slammed onto the floor. His pill bottle unlatched from his hands, scattering around the floor. Little white dots, rolled like marbles.
Some stared.
Some laughed.
None helped.
William pressed his head on the floor. His skull touching the cool ground, his fists hammering the floor to keep him from screaming. 4 pills eaten. 11 left.
No flesh to sell and no signs of regeneration. Only madness.
His slow breath quickly ran a thousand miles. He shook out in a sob.
"...Maria ..Crowe .. Archie I- I can't do this anymore."
He curled over, trembling, whispers of the distant Spine whooshed — vibrating through the streets.