Viewpoint | a #writephoto flash fiction

Viewpoint was the writephoto prompt from KL Caley in November last year. I was just getting back into writing but skipped this then. Now, thanks to inspiration from Damyanti, I’m picking up this one in a climate-related flash. It’s just under 700 words.

Viewpoint

“So, is this where the surface people live? It looks horrible.”

“Where they used to live, yes. They could only build with what they could dig from the surface, so of course it didn’t last long. The storms and earthquakes saw to that.”

“Why is the sky a funny colour? The teacher said that sky is blue and cloud is white.”

“In the ancient days, that was true. By the time we went underground a blue sky was a rarity, or else you were in what the called the eye of the storm, where it was calm, but the storm raged about you.”

“But now it’s dirty yellow, like the ground.”

“Yes. I expect it’s the heat, and the chemicals. You can’t breathe it. It would poison your lungs.”

“Is that what happened to the surface people?”

“Yes… and other things. Storm damage, lack of food, other things too.”

“My teacher said the surface people thought we were wrong to move underground, but they were the ones who were wrong, weren’t they.”

“It was a difficult time, and difficult decisions had to be made. Your teacher makes it sound simple, but it wasn’t. Most people could not even be invited to join us. There were too many of them. Either we all died, starving and storm driven, or a few of the best could take to the underworld that was built for us. Four groups of five thousand. You know all about that.”

“The seed savers, the energy savers, the water savers and the air savers.”

“That’s right. All the skills and resources we need for a new society. One which you are part of. And now that you are thirteen, you are no longer a child, and need to understand more of our history.”

“But what is there to learn, except that the great gods determined we should build our underground world to live and work in, to take care of all our needs.”

His mother smiled. It was a simple mantra, for simple minds. If her son had the makings of a leader at any level, he would have to think past it, to determine whether the three gods had indeed made the right choices. In the next five years he would develop his own ideas on the subject, and the conclusions he came to would determine his own fate. She hoped he would stay within the seed savers, charged with growing and synthesising all the necessary vegetation and proteins to keep their communities healthy. But he might have aptitude for one of the more technical groups. Or, Musk save us, he might go in a more political direction, and join the secret elite. She hoped not. There were rumours about that group. While you agreed, within a range of opinions, you were valued. But if you were too radical…

A beep sounded in her ear, and a drone flew over the pair, and hovered.

“Time to go, Alexei. Remember that beep. It means you are running out of air. Never run out of air on the surface. Take your seat, please.”

They sat in the harnesses slung beneath the drone, and held tight as it whisked them up, over the rugged, ruined, tumbled landscape. It headed direct for a cliff, where a disguised panel slid open to admit them. 

Alexei turned to her as they approached a pair of gates. “When will I see you next?”

“Next birthday, my dear. Work hard, and think about what you saw today. Your teacher will give you more nuanced answers now you have been Above. You’ll see. Be kind, and stay safe.” She patted his shoulder, the closest she was allowed to get to familiarity with a child.

That night she went over everything she’d said to him, making sure it was accurate, and within the prescribed truth. She’d done her best. Now it was up to Alexei to discover who he was, and what his place was to be… within or without their society.

© J M Pett 2024