Chapter 1

1

The large, metal combustion rattled side-to-side, almost growling, like a beast about to strike in the dead of night. The lights flickered wildly as the sounds of eager whispers filled the air. Children squirmed in their seats, holding onto the sides of their chairs (or anything they could grab, for the rusting tallyho was quite packed) for dear life, as their older siblings would do what ever they could in their power to assure them, "everything will be just fine".

Except me, of course. I was my parent's only child, so when the government had ordered each family to send two, well, I was all that could be given. For quite a while, I envied other families for being so abundant with children. Here I was, always alone with no one to connect with (my parents just don't understand me like they should, though then again who really ever does?), no one to share secrets with, braid hair, give advice to or take advice from. No one to fight with. But seeing were I am now, I'm glad I was the only child. 

"Only for a week," they told us, "and if our team sees that life above can still be sustainable-- with the help of your children's actions and, outcomes, of course --then our fashion underground could cease to ever exist." It seemed to have been a plan in the works for some time already, and a half-assed one at that, but now it has finally come into affect. To 'test the world above'; I feel more like a lab rat rather that a scout.

It was August 23, 2030 when the first nuke obliterated the northeastern sanctum of Northern America. Korea had been hiding it's superpower away for so long, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. America was at the top of it's game at the time, the all-round king, yet the country itself was not tending to anyone else's care but their own. This angered many other nations, causing an all out riot at the UN. My text books say Korea had built a strong alliance with China and the Soviet Union to combat our 'divine' land, but the country itself had other, bigger plans. Since the nuclear war had driven many underground, it was never for certain if Korea ended up on top or drowned with its ship. As Americans, we want to believe that the war had no significant 'winner' or 'loser', but we also know that we think this way because we do not believe our country ever loses anything. Though the sad reality is: We actually haven't the slightest idea.

For decades our society had spent it's time beneath the unknown. What started out merely as underground bunkers soon shifted into small communities, and soon after that into towns and cities. In a span of 40 years, the United States had seemed to take form again, including its own government, schools, housing, factories-- technology, even (though a bit outdated, still functioned quite well). For the time being everything had worked out so well (minus the occasional earthquakes that did, indeed, bury other underground societies alive), but there was always a drive for something 'more'. So when we heard that the above world could in fact be sustainable again, well, every generation was struck with a pure, quixotic impulse to be one of the first to step foot underneath sunlight; I was one of those people. But now that I'm here, I have a distinct feeling of insecurity and regret at the pit of my stomach.

I felt the rumbling contraption angle uphill, so I knew we were about to break ground. The adults and older teens cautioned their little ones to stay seated, and, half in delight and the other in pure terror, braced themselves for what they were about to see.

'A sky? What is that, exactly? It's blue I think?'

'I heard of buildings that touched the clouds!'

'What are clouds, anyway?'

'And there were the most beautiful beaches..!'

'I hear there's a place called Florida there, where alligators used to sleep in swimming pools!'

Everyone was excited, so curious and yet hesitant. To me, it felt almost like a fantasy; I couldn't believe that the world I had only seen in text books, photographs and video archives would finally be unfolded in front of my eyes. I had painted a picture in my mind of thick, large buildings, that rose above cotton-like mystics called "clouds", with digital heartstrings that ran throughout the cities, and cattle that stretched over beautiful, green valleys...acre by acre. When such a thing as a 'sun' would peer out from behind the clouds, a feeling of simplicity should fill the air and all people and animals would come out to play...However, I wasn't trying to get my hopes up. It had been nearly 90 years of course, and from living under ground all this time, well, I really don't know what to expect anymore.

A piercing siren let out periodical chimes, as a voice came over the loud speaker. "Attention passengers, we are beginning to break ground, please stay in your seat."

It was time.

"You may feel slight turbulence, but we assure you all is moving forward in a systematic procedure."

I grasped the strap of my backpack with one hand, and held onto one of the overhead bars with another. Looking around and seeing all the faces of the children worried me. Are they even ready for this? I thought, watching a young girl (by the look of five) sitting a bit timidly, looking straight ahead with a distraught look upon her face.

The sirens went off again as I sensed another shift in direction: we were leveling out. I'm not going to lie either, I'm down-right afraid. I'm afraid of what will become of me in this new place and what it holds for myself and the rest of the citizens that surround me. What will life be like here? 

Before I knew it, the train's engine began to curtail its acceleration. I took a deep breath and squeezed the overhead bar as I exhaled. I could feel myself trembling, but this time it wasn't out of fear. Frankly, I can't tell what, but I continued the breathing cycle and that kept me calm.

Now it was time. As we rose above the rubble, fragments of light (and it was truly the brightest light I had ever seen in my life) began to shine through the windows, and my heart felt like it was going to sink. I bit my bottom lip, and, though instructed to stay in their seats, the adolescents flung towards the wide screens, nearly running others over, and climbing on top of one another until they were pressed against the glass cheek-to-cheek, wide-eyed, aghast.

"Welcome to America," The loudspeaker announced. "Today is January 26, 2112."

All the commotion aboard the freight quickly decayed. Silent, it was, just dead silent. The feelings of eagerness, excitement, and curiosity, the timidness of the whiners and dismay that had previously filled the air were gone in an instant. Even I, who longed for adventure, could not stomach the picture I saw.

Gargantuan buildings-- that did indeed touch the sky --covered in dirt and rubble, many of them dilapidated and ready to crumble. As we continued to slowly move across the land, pastures and towns seemed to have been buried under trash, rust and waste. The sky was not white or blue, not even a violet hue, but instead was brown; a murky mist. It was rotten. I dare even to smell this "fresh air" that I had once dreamed of. Shattered windows, mile and mile of nothing but cracked asphalt, and not a single plant or rodent appeared to be.

"This was the divine country?" I said to myself in a whisper, distraught.

"Ah, Lord!" A young man called from down the aisle. "They expect us to stay here for a week? Bullocks!" Many tried not to look at him, but his anger had provoked me. I turned around and saw that behind him stood a frightened, small boy I suspect to be his younger brother. "How in the world could those 'Big Wigs' even think that this place could be the bit most sustainable?"

Noticing that nobody would echo his feelings, he began to stand down. I understand, I thought, I understand quite well, though I didn't acknowledge it. He slumped in his seat with his little brother nestled cozily beside him, like an eagle's baby.

With a sigh I returned my attention to the images that ran past the windows; my mind just could not accept what this world had become. I pulled out an old 'Las Vegas' pamphlet from my pocket (I had found it in my family's archives) and examined its contents for the thousandth time, still struck with bust. Rolling along this waste land just made me feel uneasy and I wondered where these tracks would lead us, and what would happen from there on out. 

Soon enough the chatter returned, a burst of tumult and hymn.