Our Utopia (Draft)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: The Team Players

First person.

Chapter 12 (v.1) - Operational/Scuffle 2

Submitted: November 02, 2018

Reads: 140

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 02, 2018



“You’re hired,” Mr. Cupt said. Zaura slapped me on the back.


“Thank you,” I smiled brightly at him. Mr. Cupt, my new boss, owned the convenient store “Slushies and fruit.” Zaura brought me here to get a job. We’d been to the shopping area already. I used 78 digits buying hygiene products and clothes. I bought an orange accordion skirt and black buttoned up shirt specifically for this interview. I had 600 digits stored up for me at the largest building. It frustrated me that I could’ve gotten money days ago. Mr. Cupt led me to a check out station and explained how to check things out and use a cash register. I caught on quickly. The store was small. The check out was next to the door, there were a set of tables beside the checkout and there was a series of aisles stocked with snacks and such. Along the back wall was A few fridges, a freezer with cold items and a soda dispenser. Apparently, Mr. Cupt and I were the only employees present. Zaura had planted herself onto one of the tables. I sat on the stool and waited for a customer. Ten minutes passed Zaura hadn’t budged. “Hey,” I spoke up.  She looked over at me.




“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked her. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at a clock on the wall.


“Not until four,” she said simply. “What time does your shift end?” I thought through Mr. Cupt’s words, he never mentioned anything about a shift.


“I don’t know,” I admitted. Zaura’s expression sunk.


“You didn’t ask?” She groaned. A customer came in, a young girl with short hair. Zaura walked off to the manager’s office.


“Where’s Carissa?” The girl asked. I tensed up. Who’s Carissa is a better question!


“Who?” I replied. She stared at me for a moment.


“She’s normally sitting there,” she said. I nodded.


“I guess I replaced her,” I said simply. She thought it over.


“I’m Persha Allicks,” she reached over the counter, offering me her hand. I shook it. “I get a soda here every morning,” she added cheerfully.


“Nice,” I tried to mimic her enthusiasm. “Glad to have you,” she walked over to the soda machine. I watched her fill up two cups with cherry soda. I silently begged my shift not to last too long. The girl paid 3.58 digits for the sodas and I waited again in silence. Zaura came out of the manager’s office a few minutes later.


“Your shift ends at four,” she said. I looked up at the clock. It read 10:29 AM. Six hours? That’s too long! Zaura had seen my facial reaction because she laughed. “Have you never had a job before?” She asked. “You don’t need to keep it if you don’t want to, you can easily live off a hundred a day.” I picked up a pen off the counter and turned it slowly between my fingers. I couldn’t give in that easily, my ego was at stake. If I gave up, I knew Zaura would make a laughingstock out of me. Zaura waited for a response, eyes locked on me.


“I’m staying,” I made my voice as stern as I could. Zaura sat down on the bench.


“I give you an hour,” she said.


“What?” She gives me an hour? So I have to wait until five? “That’d be seven hours!” Zaura stared at me, confused.


“Whatever,” she shrugged me off. I scowled at her.


“You know what,” I ordered. “Buy something or get out of my store!” Zaura smiled, got up, and got a bag of onions from the small produce aisle. I wondered what she was going to do with so many onions as she approached with a smug look on her face. She placed the bag on the counter.


“How much, boss lady?” I picked up the bag and searched it for a barcode. There wasn’t one. There wasn’t even a tag. Zaura’s evil smile deepened.


“Get one with a tag,” I said.


“They’re all the same,” she sneered. “You have to find them on the menu.” I looked at the scanner’s display, there were a few options.


“How do I do that?” I asked. Zaura shrugged and winked. I spent ten minutes trying to figure out how to find the onions. Eventually, Mr. Cupt came out and showed me how. Zaura found it hilarious. The time passed slowly. Painfully slow. Zaura apparently had absolutely nothing else to do, she stayed in the store eating her onions raw. I cringed as she bit into them. I hated onions. At this point, her breath could probably kill. She didn’t speak, she probably didn’t have anything to say. A few customers came by buying no more than two at a time. Cameron Moriantes, the man I met at the beach showed up and asked if Carissa was here, Zaura said Carissa hasn’t been here all day and he left. This Carissa girl must be popular. I found myself wondering about her.  It was three when Zaura spoke up.


“You want to do something when your shift is over?” She asked. I didn’t notice for a moment and almost didn’t respond.


“Like what?” I asked.


“Like work out,” she said, smiling. Like lifting weights? I shamefully felt up my thin bicep and nodded.


“Yes,” I tried to use my stern voice again. If I could survive this shift I could do anything. “Hey, Zaura?”




“When do I get paid?” She laughed me into silence.


A man showed up as we were about to leave. I thought he was a customer but he immediately went behind the check out station and started looking all the things over.


“That’s Hunter,” Zaura said as we left. I nodded. The ‘gym’ or so Zaura called it, was close to the largest building. It was a large building, two stories at least. I made a mental note that no one seemed to lock doors around here as Zaura simply opened the front door and walked inside. We followed a long hallway deep into the building. There was a large room, filled with training equipment I had no idea what they were. Each one of them seemed to be made to kill me in a unique and special way. There were two people already here, Cameron Moriantes and a girl, a woman. She had golden hair tied up into a ponytail, she was small but seemed athletic, one of her arms was wrapped in bandages, the other seemed to be coated with scars. Her eyes were blank, as she looked over at us I could see them, her pupils were solid grey. She stared directly at me. “Who’s that?” I asked quietly.


“Cameron!” Zaura shouted. “Carissa! Hey!” 

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