Significant

The wind blew Eve Rainwood’s hair back gracefully as she sat, perched precariously on the ancient windowsill. She sat here all the time, after every moment of stress and every time of trouble. From here, she could gaze down on the whole town, its dull gold lights and dapper-dressed people. But the moon was the highest observer, its rays glittering across the adjacent lake’s placid surface.
Suddenly, the teak door opened slowly, interrupting the serenity of the scene, and Eve’s brother stepped through its frame. He was seventeen, two years older than she was, and he was nearing the end of his life at an unbelievable speed. Eve turned towards him, acknowledging his presence with a nod and hopping off of the sill to approach him solemnly. “Hi, brother.”
The worn traveler plopped down on Eve’s cot wearily, sniffing quietly as she awaited his announcement. But he only shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting away whenever they met Eve’s. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly, his demeanor changing to understanding and sympathetic for what his sister was about to hear.
“Eve, I know this is going to be hard for you. I didn’t get the extension. Of course I didn’t. I haven’t done anything important, significant,” He paused briefly to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I’m going to the golden city, the so called holy ground before I die. I’ve done a lot, Eve, enough.”
Eve’s heart stopped, her sight blurring as she comprehended what her brother had said. He had been given twenty years, just like every citizen, to prove that his life was worth it. He had passed every test thus far, besides the ultimate one. The government hadn’t deemed that he was important enough to gain more years. No, his life would be a waste even if they did.
He stood, slinging a hefty cloth bag up on his shoulder and taking his sister’s delicate form into his arms. “Don’t fret, Eve. Fretting takes time, time that you can’t afford to waste. I need to live out my three years, just like you need to live out your five. Goodbye, Eve.” He released her gently, slipping out the door as quickly as he had come, closing it behind him until he heard a click.
“I’ve already lived out my life.” Eve whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. And, in a way, she had—she had sailed across the Passageway Sea by herself, trekked through the Blue Mountains and ventured through the humid rain forests. She had toured through at least twenty cities, observing beautiful statues and decorated coliseums. She felt as if she had lived the basic life, the life that everyone was given. Perhaps she could live with five more years, after all, just five.
“Eve, may I come in?”
And it was that voice that always changed her mind, which always made her realize how short her life was, really. “Come in, grandfather.” Eve said, walking to the door as her brunette locks bounced against her back.
The elderly man came in, the oldest person in her family. He was eighty, nearing his last year loan, and he smiled as if it was his birthday when he saw the youthful Eve. “As you know, your brother has gone to the golden city for his final passage.” His voice was a whisper in the quiet room. “I assume that you’re planning your next loan, aren’t you, Eve?” His eyes were hopeful, full of wonder, and Eve couldn’t stand it for one more second.
“Grandfather, I’m going outside—only if you don’t mind, though.”
“Of course I don’t mind, Eve. Use your time how you want to use it.”

Eve lounged across from Vincent, her toes pressed against his as she sprawled on her back, sifting through countless diagrams as he did the same with his stack. She was doubtful, doubtful about all of this. What if it didn’t work and her final years were removed instead of given at the last loan?
Vincent sensed her doubt, and he leaned on one arm heavily, studying her with a dark-eyed gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and I promise you that it won’t happen. I’ve already got my pass, for doing that mural on the side of the hospital building.”
“I helped you with that.” Eve spat, feeling sick to her stomach. This was all so far-fetched, so desperate. Why couldn’t she just accept her imminent death, like her brother did? Why couldn’t she just be happy? And what was significant, anyways?
“I told them, again and again. It wasn’t enough.” He leaned forward, pressing his palms against her cheeks and pointing her face towards his. “Listen, Eve. Have I ever gone back on my word? We’ll find this, and the government will be in a corner. They’ll have no choice but to give you the years.”
It was ridiculous. Stealing from the government to obtain years had never been attempted before—and for good reason.
Vincent rose, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her up to stand on her own. “We can do this, Eve, we can do this.” He turned and began to run, Emerald only a few feet in tow. Her heart began to pound hastily, and it was hard to tell if the cause was the exertion from running or the pure anxiety that she felt inside.
When they finally stopped, the two of them were silhouetted by a massive gray building, known simply to the citizens as ‘the facility’. It was the location of the loans, the supreme judge of every teenager’s fate. Vincent took her hand in his, ushering her towards the building. “Once you enter the first hallway, you’ll see a shaft above you, an air vent. Climb up there and take the first left, a right, and climb through the grate. That should be the loan room, Eve.”
After a hurried goodbye and a few more words of warning, Eve strode up to the building, the unlucky David against this monstrous Goliath. She pulled a silver wrench from her pocket, a family heirloom that had lasted through generations, and began to fumble with the first lock of the sky-high gate. After a few agonizing, trying minutes, she felt the notch and turned the wrench to the right, hard. It came free, and she pushed on the gate until the space was big enough for her to slip through.
Inside, it was dark. There were many open doors that immediately bombarded her as she crept about, struggling to locate the shaft. She ignored them wisely, figuring that many of them would have mounted security cameras on every possible corner. Eventually, her groping fingers found a hatch, and she used all of her upper body strength to pull herself up and into the emptiness that lay behind it.
Cool air rushed past her face as she crawled up the tunnel, the path growing steeper and steeper after every few yards. At times, she was forced to launch herself up a more challenging slope, grabbing on to the top and forcing herself upwards even further. It was tedious, tiring, and incredibly dangerous, and often times she scraped her arms and legs against rough patches of adulterated metal, drawing blood.
When Eve finally reached the last turn, she was sweating and defeated. She practically dragged herself along with her arms, pulling open the grate as she leaned back with her full body weight. She dropped down into the room, a limp rag doll that was, just hours ago, a beaming new edition. She breathed in the musty air of the storage room in quick breaths, eager to evacuate the premises as soon as possible.
When she finally rose, she was standing in a room full of boxes. They were all identical, brown and taped up tightly. Eve snatched one from the stack, gasping from its unexpected weight. She knelt down, shaking it around before ripping its top open. Inside were directions, complete with diagrams of people and bold words in red. It was hard to process, in that moment, the significance of the box that Eve held then. For on the top of the paper, Eve’s light eyes scanned over the embossed words ‘Directions to Administer Years.’

Two weeks had passed since Eve had found the box—two uneventful weeks. She had stridden up and down the halls, Vincent’s insistent words echoing in her head: “They’ll have no choice but to give you the years.” She hoped upon hopes that this wasn’t a bluff, that her claim to the government had been received and considered.
When she had opened the box and had the time to process her findings, she had discovered the truth, the truth about the society that she resided in now. She harnessed the secret to extending life, and the government would give her the years to keep that secret quiet.
“Eve?” It was the familiar voice of Vincent Edony, and she welcomed it with joy.
“I haven’t heard a word, Vincent, not a word.”
Vincent hushed her, sitting down and allowing Eve to sit down as well. “I have, Eve. You’ll get the years at the next loan, you will. I’m sure of it. They won’t contact you directly, of course. They’ll just do it, and only you will know why.”
Eve looked up, knowing that Vincent would not understand what she was about to say. “I’m not getting those years, Vincent.”
Her good friend ran his fingers through his hair, surprised and alarmed as he watched that changing, mysterious look on Eve’s face.
“I’m spreading the secret, Vincent. I know I’ll die. But I’ll die knowing that my life was at least of some—” Eve paused, wrapping her arms around Vincent and burying her head in his shirt.
“Some, what, Eve?” Vincent inquired, holding her away from him, at arm’s length.
She looked up, firm and resolute in her decision. “Some significance.”

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.08.2012

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