A normal day

— Rennes, Bretagne province of the Kaiserreich —

It was a normal morning like many others. One where I didn't want to get off bed, forcing my mother to drag me out of it and give the usual morning lectures on how school was a blessing, that I should have been glad of going while most kids my age couldn't and all that. Stuff I didn't think too much of at the time.

What I did think a lot about though, were the simple, yet amazing breakfast waiting for me. The crunchy tartines accompanied by coffee with milk, obviously well sugared because I was a brat at the time, or a 'môme' as Mom loved calling me. And all of this was made even more sweet by the smile my father gave me first thing in the morning along with his big hands ruffling my hairs. It made feel that cramped and gloomy kitchen like the brightest and biggest place on Earth. Not even the most luxurious villas of Paris and Berlin combined could compete!

That's how much I loved my father and my family as a whole...

"E-Emma..."

I came back down to Earth once outside the characterless apartment building we lived in. Similar looking grey buildings rose menacingly from either side of the street, close tight to each other and releasing the endless streams of black smoke from their roofs. According to my parents the stench of exhaust pipes wasn't something as constant in the past. When there were less mass produced buildings (whatever that meant at the time) and more colours and sweet, yummy odours gifted more life to the city and made it seem less like an hospital with all that coughing you could hear.

I was trying to imagine that scene while sauntering calmly towards the tram stop, as if I wasn't late for school at all. The ominous, giant clock tower in the distance worked as a threatening reminder, that not even the suspending tram and train railways passing in front of it could hide.

Once inside the overfilled tram I walked to my usual seat, where I knew someone way too familiar would be keeping a place for me, at cost of running late for school herself.

"Bonjo- ehm, Guten Tag, Lia."

The girl with blond hair giggled as she moved her backpack off the empty seat beside her.

"Your parents are still teaching you...that language"

She said in a kind of conspiratory whisper. Her azure eyes were bright with the awareness only someone from the Hauptland could have. Very few decided to move to the Äußereland, but when good work opportunities called, her unemployed father had to answer and ended up for th same journal my own father used to work for. Luck wanted that me and Lia had met in one dinner at her home and from, that point moving on, we became inseparable.

"You know how it is around here..." I had said as I slumped in the cold metal seat.

After 5 years living there, Lia had way more knowledge on how non-germans were treated than the majority of Hauptlanders (or simply called Germans), who weren't forced to hide their cultures, who they were.

"My papa always told me that the Capital wasn't any better but I don't have any memories of it..." she said in a dreamy tone.

"You were too little..." I had said, almost reciting what my mother always told me when I couldn't remember something from early childhood. After a few seconds of pause, broken by the chatters around us and the hum of the tram travelling along the rails, a lightbulb of an idea switched on.

"Maybe..." I had turned back at her with a grin. From over her shoulder I could glimpse outside the window, the high-rises falling down as the tram went up, giving a rare glimpse of the clear sky. "...we could go together after we grow up! What do you say??"

Lia blinked twice, surprised by the sudden proposition, before softening back to a smile, causing the the beauty mark right under the corner of her mouth to follow along..

"That sounds. awesome! I'm in!!" her equally joyful voice attracted the curious gaze of the other passengers, some of which probably remained surprised by her beauty. She was quite something for her young age and the kind of purity that would hypnotise whoever placed their gaze on it. Being my best friend, I would always look around to check on any creeps staring, or just out of jealousy really.

For the rest of the short journey we held our hands, giggling and thinking of that sweet future, filled with promises...

"P-please sweetheart..."

At school things went as usual. We did the daily gymnastics class, the only thing I was good at, while Lia was the exact opposite as me, good at every other subject.

"Let me guess, you didn't study for the history exam right?" she had asked me as we were sitting in the crowded canteen, munching on our dull school lunch of unidentifiable slop. I had simply smiled, prompting her to give out a long sigh.

"I can't with you..."

I kept looking at her, smiling dumbly. "I know you can't resist my cha-"

"I can't with you..."

The rough voices came to me as if born from the depths of my mind, putting a stop to my words mid throat. I had been hearing them since I had woken up but managed to ignore them, until now. They felt familiar, that expression, that tone...yet, something inside my heart didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Is everything alright?"

I must have looked absent for a moment, because Lia's perceptiveness went in action immediately. "You're so pale...maybe you should go to the infirmary."

I wanted to say something reassuring but as soon as I looked back at her, the will to speak had died. The image of father's face disfigured had completely substituted her. Multiple black and blue bruises, his nose not straight anymore, his brown eyes surrounded by black circles. His breath was rugged and gargled due to the blood filling his throat. It didn't help that fire and smoke surrounded us in a mortal embrace, over which I couldn't see anything else.

"E-...Emma..."

That voice came out as a rough, breathless whisper.

That thing wasn't my father. I tried screaming for my mother, Lia, or anyone else, but my mouth moved without producing a sound.

I was alone with my father, dying right under my eyes. I approached with a hand for what remained of his burned hair, wanting to give him the same comfort he gave me every morning.

But I couldn't even try to touch him as armed men wearing dark green military uniform and weird metallic contraptions around their bodies, effortlessly stormed through the walls of fire. They surrounded us and grasped my father by the ankles and shoulders, lifting him up in front of my eyes, overflowing with tears like a cascade. My father's groans of pain shook me out of shock and started screaming at the soldiers's expressionless faces while my weak punches and kicks attempted to stop one of the men- no, the criminal who wanted to steal him from me.

"Leave him alone! You can't him away! You can't-"

It only took a sharp pain in back of my head to stop me. Everything became slow-motion as I fell while watching the soldiers disappearing with my father behind the bright flames. Then my face hit to asphalt floor of the street.

"Père!!"

I woke up with a jolt that made me sit while screaming for my father. The quick heartbeat resonated in my ears, about to explode at any moment.

I checked my surroundings and it was just my room. A weak ray of light filtered through the window, hitting the wooden parquet and highlighting speckles dust dancing in the air. The digital clock on the night table said it was almost 11 in the morning, meaning that she didn't hear the alarm once again. The bedroom surrounding me felt unfamiliar after the nightmare. Bed, night table, wardrobe, desk and the over hanging shelves and wall clock, it all felt out of place.

I brushed a strand of brown hair off my face and took a few deep breaths.

'Another nightmare...' I sighed 'I don't think Hannes will accept this same excuse for being late again...'

I slid off bed and went to lean against the windowsill. Outside the view of high-rises was the usual that had filled my life since childhood. The only difference from the past was the addition of a bit of colour here and there and the even worse abundance of pollution, in the form of a faint, grey mist, acting as a filter over everything else.

Besides me, embedded into the wall there was a rectangular touchscreen, barely the size of my hand, showing a simple black screen and white text that appeared at a gentle tap. My finger swiped from right to left to go through the next few screens.

[ Air quality index (as of today, November 27, Year 1986): 77 ]

[ Maximum reached today: 80 ]

[ Yesterday's maximum: 88 ]

"Wow actually liveable..." I said in a tone filled with sarcasm, though it was kind of true. An air quality index under 80 was considered a blessing as over-industrialization had took over many cities in the Äußerelands. "...and high pollution was the last excuse I had."

Giving one last, tired glance up to the overcast sky crowning that sad excuse of a city, I reluctantly rushed through with my morning. From the small wooden wardrobe, filled with clothes that strangers could have thought belonging to a man, I produced and wore grey work shirt and brown pants. All ready, I went out of my room.

"Bonjour mère..."

The kitchen wasn't as small as the previous apartment, but still enough to give the same, kind of depressing vibe, the same one I instead saw beautiful as I child.

My mother stood in front of the stoves, cooking and plating a mix of eggs, potatoes and herbs, which was something called the Farmer's Breakfast, while on the table already waited my favourite part, the only thing that truly reminded of home, the tartines.

"Guten Morgen, Emma." my mother said sternly, making me pause right in the middle of biting the slice of bread with strawberry marmalade. "How many times do I have to correct you. Don't use our dying language..." she placed the plate filled that foreign breakfast in front of me, before taking a seat.

I started eating in silence, not wanting to spoil my mood first thing in the morning. From the corner of my eye I glimpsed at her face, decrepit, grey lifeless eyes and hair, the lips dry as desert lips as they touched the mug full of tea. And to think that she was barely 50 years old but looked like someone over 80.

"Did you had a shower?"

"What's the point if I'll get dirty in the factory anyway." I said while munching on my meal, "I'll just have one when I'm ba-"

"I see that are wearing again that outfit again."

At her remark, I rolled my eyes. Here she went again with the same whining. At least she didn't change in every way after Father's death.

"You're never going to get a boyfriend with how masculine you dress yourself. I'm sure not even your father would want to see you all alone for the rest of your-."

"What do you know about what my father wanted?" and there she was, touching a sore spot once again. E

"You think that being married to him for over 20 years meant nothing? That we didn't know each other at all?"

"Yes since you didn't even know what his actual job was...." Enraged, I got up in one go, forcing the chair back, scraping loudly against the floor.

"Emma, for the love of god-"

Her words attempted to stop me but I had already stormed to the bathroom to end my morning routine. The urge to punch my reflection in the mirror and see the grey eyes I inherited from her was incredibly strong but had to hold myself back. The situation we were left with wasn't easy for both of us.

I drowned the incoming tears with a splash of cold water. I had to hurry for work.

I cleaned my teeth then tied my hair in a ponytail. Leaving them growing made them more of a chore to keep especially due to the oppressing filtering masks I had to wear.

Speaking of which, that waited for me on the hanger at the entrance, along with the brown coat and leather shoes.

I put the latter both on and grabbed the dark blue mask. Two pieces, the elastic back and metal front padded inside, made to "hug" someone's head all around, covering both nose and mouth and with tight fitting holes for the ears. The two round grates that bulged on the front covered the carbon filters. While putting it on, I kept grasping it until I heard click from the magnets snapping together. Moving my head around and taking a few breaths was another annoying part of life in those smokey cities. If there wasn't that faint carbon smell, or if the mask wasn't well flush with the back of your head and face, leaving any space for air to enter, then a few years were being cut out of your life span.

"See ya later maman!" I said, muffled due to the mask. Without waiting for an answer, I went outside the apartment, unfortunately abandoning the comfort the air purifier provided and starting another mundane day.