JUDGMENT

A short story by Stella Madsen

A chill passed down her spine as she descended down the steps into the Under City. Michelle preferred to avoid these parts of town as much as she could. It was a shame nearly every public transit network commuting to the Corporation passed solely through here. It was a stark contrast from the Uppercity, with its laughter and cleanliness and safety. Down here, all was quiet, save for some soft murmurs from the Abandoned and the underground river’s viscous sloshing. Few sconces lit the path to the boat, dimly illuminating the Abandoneds' dim silhouettes that urged her to move faster.

The driver stood at the docks, one hand extended with a flashlight and the other waiting for coins. Michelle dropped her payment of two coins into his grasp, being careful not to rock the boat while boarding. She took a seat near the other passengers and pulled her scarf around his face to shield from the stench of the waste. They had all their backs turned towards the Abandoned, for there was no fear of them boarding. They likely didn’t even have the two coins needed for passage.

The barge jostled when the driver began its trip through the tunnels beneath the city, his flickering light reflecting on the murky waters ahead. Sitting near the front of the boat, she could see the writhing bodies of the sewer snakes in the dark water.

Even without much light, the sounds of its slithering echoed clearly along the stone walls. Some believed that these snakes were just one huge, endless snake, encasing the entire city with its overlapping loops. Occasionally, the driver’s beacon drifted to the edges of the waterway and caught the figures of the Abandoned in its light. Like gargoyles eyeing churchgoers, they turned their gaunt faces towards the passengers, who lowered their gazes. Groups of Abandoned always lined the underground rivers on the route to work, a constant reminder of what could become of the workers if the Corporation willed it—and the nerves were more ignited than ever considering the arriving date: Judgement Day was near. Some passengers were discussing the matter in quiet voices.

“Do you remember Theodore being cut last year?” One person asked.

“Theodore?” Someone responded. “I do. He still wanders into the caffi shop sometimes. But he can’t afford anything, the poor soul.”

“Don’t say that,” the first speaker hissed. “He wasn’t nearly dedicated enough. It was obvious he would get sent out. He did this to himself.”

“Of course.”

The two silenced themselves when the Abandoned turned their heads, as if they knew they were the topic of discussion. No one made a peep for the rest of the underground commute.

Much to her relief, the awkwardness broke when the boat reached the lock rising to the Uppercity. The air opened around them and billboards spewed gospel as they passed down the waterway bringing them to the doorstep of the Corporation.

The Corporation’s headquarters stood higher than all other buildings, like the laws decreed. Shipment drones swarmed around the midsection of the Tower in charge of deliveries, zooming out to every corner of the Uppercity. The headquarters was the heart and lifeblood of the city. Without its services, all would topple into disarray.

They arrived at the doorstep of the tower, where the throngs of workers in crisp suits and sleek ties made themselves presentable in organized lines until they arrived at their stations. Michelle worked in customer service, situated on level thirty-seven, just above the delivery floors. The line dispersed, and while some shuffled around uncertainty without its guidance, she walked purposefully towards her cubicle.

Hovering above her desk on the nearest wall was the plaque of the C.E.O, his watchful eyes looking out over the expanse of workers performing diligently under his gaze. Her family, and the families of millions of others, had served under the same eyes for centuries. It was almost like a shrine for the people of the Uppercity.

At the first ring from a customer calling her phone, she answered. The calls kept coming, and she did not cease in her assisting and consulting until a posse burst through the doors to the Golden Elevator—the only elevator leading to the office of the C.E.O, perched at the very top of the tower. Its body was solid gold.

Angels, the workers whispered at the new arrivals. That was the nickname the workers had given them, the C.E.O’s messengers and his most trusted servants.

When the voices subsided, the Angel at the forefront spoke. She was decorated from head-to-toe with badges and pins over a sharp suit. An impeccable worker.

“I would like you all to know that Judgement Day will begin at the start of tomorrow’s first shift.” She did not waste time with pleasantries. Why should she, when this meant prosperity or damnation for every soul in the building?

Perhaps easing the news onto the crowd would have been advisable, because the blunt announcement caused a quiet uproar among the cubicles.

Q&AwiththeAuthor

What was the award you won for this story?

"It was the Silver Key Scholastic Art and writing award."

What inspired you to write this story?

"I was reading this book called Sapiens and the author was talking about how religion is essentially being replaced by corporations in the 21st century and so I went off of that and modeled worship after how we worship corporations."

Was this story difficult to write?

"I hadn't actually written much before this...this was my first [short story] that I finished in years which is why I was super excited when I won the award because I was not expecting it!"

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Remi Langwerowski