Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 2020 | Page 84

Fiction – Group 4 I regret not finishing the meal. Even though it might be spiked. Maybe drugged or poisoned. I assume that the Rightie wasn’t even here. News from the front claimed the Right Wing had invented a type of hologram that could be projected from afar, and was so real there was no way to tell if a person or object was present or not without touching it. “Hi.” I look up from my spot on the ground. I nearly spit out the piece of bark I was chewing on. It was the Rightie. I hoisted myself into a better position, palming my blade. She shifted on the balls of her feet, “Look, I just wanted to help. Please. I have food, some meager resources and medical skills.” “You’re a Rightie.” It was a statement., not a question. “Yes, but my political views don’t change anything.” “They do.” “They don’t.” I was getting frustrated. Won’t she understand? “Righties are not supposed to help Lefties, or vice versa. That was the way of the world. Our views make us different, distinguishing the right from the wrong. What we think is part of our being. It takes up the entirety of our lives.” “I stand with the Left Wing, and I agree that to the expense of human resources and comfort, we should be immediately taking action to preserve Mother Nature. You guys think the quality of life of the people should be prioritized over the environment, and that we should focus on leaving the planet. Our interests are at odds. I’m not so foolish as to hope for the best.” She was silent. I go back to chewing my piece of bark. I could almost pretend that it was bread and meat. “See the bricks on the wall over there?” I pointed, “The plants cannot help but destroy the bricks as they grow. And the bricks, though broken, pierce and cut the leafy tendrils with shrapnel. We’re not meant to mix. Now go back to your pretty mobile and get outta here.” She started to protest. I silenced her with a wave of my hand, “I came from this far-right settlement in Changsha. They string up Lefties at crossroads by their wrists, and every single person, even the smallest toddler, is required by the Law to punish the offenders, regardless of their connections.” I mimed whipping a lash onto the wall, “My former parents betrayed me. They did not shed a tear.” “But the justice of the Law is peculiar. I was not sixteen yet, so they dumped me in the middle of a barren place instead of shooting me in the head after the ordeal. I found my way here, but guess what? The Left cities are scared. They do not let us in for fear of spies.” I laughed darkly, “I guess we can’t blame them. So all the refugees stay here. They used to send us food by drone, but since the war escalated…” I shrugged, “Don’t mind the kids. They’re jumpy, and with good reason. Whatever your intent was coming here, shoo.” I hated her for her naivety, her foolishness. I hate her for getting my hopes up, and letting me fall. Wordlessly, she shook her head. Without looking, she took a piece of bread from her pack and bit into it She passed another loaf of bread to me from her rucksack and boosted me up. I could feel her warm hand. She started to leave. I called after her, “What is your name?” She looked bac over her shoulder and gave me a radiant smile, “My name is Angel. How about yours?” I smile wryly, “I thought my name does not exist. Maybe it does.” 145