The sky had turned clear white, from sky blue, you could see the reddish clouds dancing and matching from the unknown destination. It's a clear day. As beautiful as the day is, no bird flew in the sky. Plants had worn out. The land was dry and in desolation. If you gazed deeper into the cracks, a volcano eruption could break out and swallow the remaining creatures. No humans were seen loitering, the sun was constantly killing every living thing.
Undoubtedly there has never been rainfall for weeks, months, and the past two hundred years. The area looked deserted.
Is this planet Earth or its clone? Hot air blew like a cool breeze. The temperature kept increasing exponentially at the speed of light. You can observe heat flames evaporating upward.
On the fifth floor, third door, Delvin sat on his metal stool, propounding how his life would unfold next. He was pale, his eyes shrunken, his face was turning reddish, he held the chin with the right hand. The veins on his arm were protruding out, had a green, dark color, the skin faded in, creating wrinkles.
This came as a result of dehydration and starvation. He is twenty years old, but his appearance was eighty. Bones are nearly visible. He must be hanging on a thread.
On a tiny table you could see a seven-fifty mill plastic bottle with a quarter fraction of water. An empty cup, next to a spoon inside a clear white lunch box. Under the table, a broken black basin, containing a white plate, the pan coated with a thick layer of black on the bottom edge. It all probably came from gas stove smoke. One fork beside an old silver knife, ten inches from the basin, there was a three point five kilo-gram gas cylinder with a gas plate on top.
Delvin's body faced the window on his left-hand side, which had a maroon torn curtain on the bottom right angle. He appeared to be looking at the window, but his focus was captured by the dreadful state he was experiencing now. The room was clean, neat, but it lacked food and water. Behind him was a bed positioned horizontally, with a filthy grayish pillow. On top, brown bedding covered it entirely. Opposite the bed was a line with dirty clothes hanging on it.
Delvin was fuming from inside. He had been sick and tired of suffering, death could end all his misery. There is no point to living, his world was hell on earth, the whole world is doomed to crumble, this extinction was not predicted at all.
There resounded a vibrant sequential knock on the door. Delvin did not hear it, although it was loud enough, if you were sleeping it might wake you up without repeating a second time. An upgraded knock followed up, now with an even stronger, energetic-emphasized heart-breaking sound. The power of its vibration was good enough to scoop you out of any trance. Delvin gets distracted from his delusional thought pattern. He knew who it was, there was one usual visitor, his one and only friend, George.
Before a departure to an unknown place where people often go after dying, at least the universe offered him an opportunity to see his friend. That in itself wasn't a bad thing for a dying person. His final moment might be peaceful, with less anxiety, a free mind as he went to meet his maker if he was a religious man. Imagination was his only religion. It was the only place he was not limited, he loved to roam around aimlessly, he was able to be anything wished or hoped for.
Delvin, in a cracked, wrecked, weak voice, reiterated roughly, 'come in.'
This was nerve breaking, for it took him a lot of the energy he was trying to conserve. Though death was his next thing on the agenda, a certain part of him wanted to live a bit longer. Maybe he would behold the light of the day. The world out there played well for other people.
Delvin could glance at the faces of people who wore glittering smiles, they ate three times a day, they had water and never lacked money. For him, it was upside down, the universe isn't fair at all. Equality does not exist, just one meal was so hard to find. He couldn't go outside. The sun would consume him in a second, for it was beheading any living thing. It must be purging this bad land of its moral sins. What did he do to deserve countless savage conditions? He chose not, but found himself in. Choice definitely had been taken from him at his birth.
George pushed the door from outside, as it opened a squeaking noise resounded from the door joints. The need for oil must be inevitable. Who would care when he couldn't manage to even feed himself? His death to come is a sure proof, and not a justification. It doesn't matter who will remember him? He is a puppet, a poor loser, a person with no family, a nobody, that's his core status, he is a weakling and a bastard.
George came with high energy, 'Hello Delvin?' As he walked majestically to sit down on the bed.
Delvin did not try to look at George, life had already overwhelmed him with a thousand troubles, with much difficulty, he gathered the remaining strength from within to regard the salutation from his dear beloved friend, 'Hello.'
The voice that entered Georges mind, It must have had a very low volume, and quite hopeless, It notified him about the torment Delvin was in. There is something wrong with this man. George decided to push the matter further by posing a concerned greeting, 'How are you?'
Delvin did not respond right away, his eyes fell on the rough broken floor. It was cloudy gray, and full of potholes.
Georges' family is average and rich, he is not super dressed, a bit shabby compared to Delvin. He couldn't possibly help Delvin, but perhaps words of comfort. Anyway, Delvin was on the verge of death. His outward appearance elaborated the full extent of his dilemma. Delvin mastered some courage, a broken voice coupled with an angering rhythm came out, 'look at this room?'
Stretching his arm from right to the left, and turned to face George. 'I have no food, water and money. My v card has only two coins. The next smelling thing in my life is an honorable death.'
He wished to be the last survivor, but it came sooner than expected. V cards were a form of payment the world had integrated into and water is the most traded commodity and the most expensive. If you had it, you controlled the world.
The military in this case were in charge. Zoom Association Multi Cooperation, abbreviated as ZamCorp, worked hand to hand with the military. ZamCorp distributed water and most foods to the shops in the marketplace. One liter of water costs a hundred coins, the equivalent of one hundred U S dollars in the twenty-first century.
George listened attentively to the cries of a lost friend. He could not imagine what his friend was going through, silence filled the atmosphere, both parties were having different thoughts. Something had to be done. George's mind ached with thinking, his heart bred. He was emotionally touched by the revelation of poor Delvin, an orphan with no one to depend on but himself. What happened to his family? He was dumped at Belgravia orphanage at the age of four. He grew up with ridicule as a person with no beginnings. He will probably die alone.
The room he is living in now the military rented for him when he went to Apex University.
A different thought dropped into George's mind, 'Hold on Delvin! I might have a solution for both of us?'