The Dream Collar

Beneath the city, the tireless rodents skirted around. People, of all colors, stepped over the pests as they worked. Perhaps their acceptance was implanted in them at birth. They worked for food and shelter, prayed to the “Wise One,” and slept with each other after the hoses took all the slime off of them, a semi brown and green mixed together. The lighting made it look black and slick if there was a short.

Meg ate her hard bread, not knowing any different. At twenty, it was time to date and marry a man, have his child, and work with everyone else. At five, the baby would be taken away from her.

“Do you ever think things could be better?” her friend, Os, asked her one day.

“Better than what?” Meg questioned.

“The filth, the lights, the labor, and the food, especially the food.”

“What makes you think are bad? What else is there? The world ended. Above is nothing but nuclear waste.”

“See, that’s your problem. You have no imagination or creativity. When they taught us to read signs, I found this book.” Os reached into her sack and pulled out a colorful book. She opened it to the first page.

“What the Hell is that?”

“Well, I’ve only gotten to the fifth page, but it is called, “The Dream.” It teaches children to think outside the box, to question.”

“We are not children, Os. We have a responsibility to rebuild the world.”

“I know, but try. I also found this circle string that twinkles.” Meg took the ring of strange colors. It could fit around one’s neck easily.

“Is this a kill collar?” Meg asked. They had those for people who “couldn’t carry the burden of responsibility.”

Os put it around her neck and stared at the front sparkling stone, clear as ice, not anything like the place they were in.

“Os!”

“Shit, don’t cause the guards to come.”

Meg grabbed the collar and snapped it off Os’ neck. She barely glanced at it as it fell down the deep drain hole.

“Meg!”

“Forget it and the book, too.” Meg grabbed the book and tore it to pieces and threw them down the drain.

Os began to cry, “He said he’d let me out if I gave him the collar.”

“Who?” Asked Meg.

“The guard.”

“Where would you go? There is nothing up there. He wanted to get you into trouble for touching a non-essential tool. Oh, Os, you get yourself into so many messes.” Os knew it was true. She daydreamed, she hoped, and she was unlike the other but fragile with need. She was fragile.

“I know,” Os choked, “Thank you for saving me… I, I wanted to believe.”

“There is nothing else,” Meg said.

The two of them hugged and then left for work while the gem necklace lay in dirt and slime with no purpose.