Chapter 7

Soros continued rocking in his chair, collecting each curious memory into a pocket file. His eyes were nearly blind from constant rest, blurry, unused. His legs rolled around uselessly, and his skin grew pale and flaxen, white as his bleached hair.

He was old and useless, barely could wake up in the morning. Paralyzed by life, the world, with time weighing him down. With his saggy skin

The hours passed by for Soros. He sat in his wooden, rocking chair, quietly whispering, feeling the warmth of feeling and emotion pass through him. The PO-KT whirred and an air heater expelled heat into the air. Silence faded away, replaced with the quiet audio of the PO-KT replaying Soro's memories, again and again.

A knock on the door woke him from his trance. It was Zircon, the only person who visited him these days.

"Come in. Come in", he grumbled and shifted himself to appear taller and prouder. He pressed a button to unlock the latch he couldn't unlock.

Zircon walked in, waved toward him, and took a seat on a rotting bench full of oozeworms and termites. It creaked and cracked

"Good morning! Ah yes, ah… Good morning..., Zircon said with his thick tank-borne accent. The false politeness oozed out of his voice. Soros stared at him, into his tired, empty eyes. Bruises, purple, splotched, rushing down his face, blood dripping down his nose, drying on his lips

"You're doing well today!", Zircon waved and smiled. But Soros ignored it and went into another room to get the items from the chest.

"The violence outside, a horrible, horrible day today", Zircon walked toward the window, looking outside, at the flames, at the shining sun peering through the glass windows. "Such a horrible, horrible day".

"God…You don't understand what type of day today was. It was a wonderful day. When the dreams rush through your mind, it is a day to relish, a day to beautify oneself", Soros shook his head, his arms slowly aching as he pushed the chest lid up, wincing as the pain rushed down his spine. "God, my back aches…"

Zircon paused his contemplation. Stepping behind Soros, staring at him.

"You sit all day, on a rocking chair, watching memories", Zircon watched the weathered PO-KT beep. "How can you bear rotting away in this room every day? Can you not go outside?"

Soros pulled out a couple of bags and set them on the ground. He continued sifting through the items in the chest.

"Have you ever gone outside of the State? Into the snow, and the cold?", Zircon approached forward, watching him continue to sift through the food inside. Then pull out more bags. "Soros. Aren't the waters wonderful, the seas and the oceans… If I could go outside…"

"Here!", Soros gave Zircon a grocery bag full of black market items. Food spilled over, fish, bread, nuts, berries, corn, turkey, apples, duck, chicken, and peas.

Zircon handed him the money, stopping his speech midway, snatching it from Soros's weak hands, staring at it like a greedy little pig. Horrible, horrible Zircon…

"Get out!" Soros shouted. He hated the face. He wanted to tear those dull eyes away from Zircon's skin, watch it peel away until it shriveled and fell into dust. He wanted to bury him underneath the earth and leave Zircon there to rot. God! He hated him, the sight of Zircon made him sick.

Zircon looked up, muttering to himself, scratching his head, standing there for a while, by himself. Silent. He watched Zircon's stupid piggish eyes and hated Zircon's disheveled face.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!"

"Goodbye, Soros… ", Zircon went away, the door quickly shutting.

Soros was alone, in the concrete building. He put on his PO-KT again and turned it on, looking into the deep chasms of his mind, relaxing in the dark.

Quiet… All quiet…