Jenny was excited as she climbed into her sleeping compartment.  Tomorrow was Chreaster.  Gramps had told her that years ago, when he was her age, Easter and Christmas were separate holidays.  That was before  Happleburton, who owned the space station that she lived on, had decided (in fairness) to allow only one holiday for each religion.  She was glad her family was not Scientologists.  She disliked Dienetics Day. She could never quite understand what she was supposed to do.  It seemed people just sat around and thought.  Boring.

But tomorrow was Jenny’s favorite day of the year, even better than Hallowiccan.  She would participate in the mandatory Chreaster egg hunt and present issue, but the most beloved thing about Chreaster was that gramps would be released for the day.  She loved  to hear his stories of when he was a child and there were real eggs, and they were hid outside, and people could actually eat them after the hunt was over.  She could not imagine what outside was like.  She was 9 years old and had never been anywhere but her family’s cubicle on this drilling platform.  She should feel fortunate, her mom repeatedly told her, that their family had won one of the  Powerball jackpots and was allowed to leave earth just in time……….before the Great Cleansing of 2110.  Jenny was born a year later, on this station.

Jenny hated only seeing gramps once a year, but he, as all people too old to work and  refusing programming, was isolated from the general population.  She would not even see him on Chreaster, except her dad had died during a drilling accident when she was 6, and each child was allowed an entire family unit on their holiday.  Their keeper wrongly assumed that Jenny was far enough along in her indoctrination that she would discount the ramblings of a crazy old man.  She listened  intently to gramps’ stories of the wonders of a planet she would never set foot on.

Jenny was sure that gramps was prone to exaggerated and people of earth had not actually owned houses, farms, and businesses.  There was no mention of such things in the history books she read at school on level 5.  She once asked her teacher, Mrs. Kardashian, about the history prior to  2110.  The teacher turned pale, started to reply, looked up at the monitors, and abruptly changed the subject.  The next day she had a different teacher, so she never broached the subject again.  She did believe that though somewhat embellished, gramps’ memories were real.

Jenny awoke very early from a fitful sleep filled with dreams of blue skies, fresh air, and football.  Gramps had told her that the three favorite things from his youth were motorcycles, football, and bacon.   All had been banned many years ago, as they were deemed too dangerous.  He would regale her of the exploits of his favorite football player, Tim Tebow III, and his description of bacon could nearly conjure up an aroma Jenny had never experienced.

As Jenny stepped out of  the decontamination shower and dried off, she could not contain  her joy.  She skipped into the family eating chamber and it was exactly as she expected.  There was her mom, gramps, and their always present, silent, handler.  On the small dining room table, on colorful cellophane grass sat the egg that her mom would later hide on the community deck for her to find.  Each child  was allowed one synthetic egg.  It was the same damned egg as last year and the year before.  She knew that because the binary code on the egg was the same one tattooed on her forearm.  Corporate had  determined that allowing a child to find  as many eggs as their abilities allowed would  leave some children with no eggs.  That disappointment was deemed unnecessary and counterproductive to indoctrination.   So, the one child, one egg, system was implemented.   If a child  picked up an egg that contained another child’s binary code, that child would receive a powerful electric shock, causing them to immediately drop the egg.  As a result, the egg hunt was a very deliberate affair.

Once each child had found their egg, they could redeem it from Santa Claus for a present.  All presents were age appropriate and androgynous.  It was decided by corporate that gender nonspecific items avoided conflict aided in the indoctrination process.  Corporate psychological studies revealed that selection of gender was best delayed until late adolescence thereby causing less confusion and emotional turmoil among the children during the programming.  Jenny was always disappointed with the gift, but did  not voice any discontent in front of the keeper.  Gramps had taught her well.  No matter how crappy the present was it was infinitely better than the dreidel the Jewish kids received every year for Rosh Hashanukkah.  And all Jenny really cared about was seeing gramps and learning  about life before the Great Cleansing.

OFF LIMITS. Authorized Personnel Only.’ It read.

Leila drew a deep breath and pushed the curtains aside. ‘You’ve come this far, so might as well…’ she thought. She smoothed her skirt, not wanting to think ahead. Then, she walked on, swiftly turning her back as she heard footsteps in the hall. Quietly turning to make sure the coast was clear, she then quickly found the door and pushed it open. There they were.

She grabbed a plastic cup and joined them. The TV was on; on one side some women were giving each other manicures. But it was this table she wanted to sit at. It was their one night when they forgot about the measly pay or the grouchy bosses. Or in her case, the perpetually drunk boyfriend of 8 years who liked to hit her a little too often.  The head cook, Roma, knew she might fall into more than just a little trouble with this set-up in the pantry. But Roma knew what it meant to the women.

‘Was this punch spiked? Oh, what the hell!’ Leila chuckled, for all we know, the bosses could be at wits end and looking for them. Soon someone would notice the women secretaries, clerks, all disappearing for breaks at the same time for an hour. But till then, this was their haven. And this table, her guilty pleasure – the Wednesday night poker table. Who said it was a men’s game, again?

Queen regnant of England and Ireland, bloody Mary, Queen consort of Spain, ugly wife, Five year reign, Catholic terror. Very beautiful in her youth, appalling in her death, the death of a fanatic infertile mother, who had 280 religious dissenters burned at the stake. She was a precocious child and a complete goofy afterwards: clap!

Martin Cid

I could see their lives unfolding in front of my eyes – just moments ago, so perfect. And now, it was like the whole world had come crashing.

Beth was perfect. I had come to like her from the very moment I came across her. She was charming, effervescent.  And Jude was her soul mate in every sense of the word. Just to see them together was a joy unto itself. It was like they were coordinated – the twinkle of her eye that only he read, his smile to her across the room that only she saw, and knew was for her alone. And I, on the wrong side of the big ‘30’, felt admittedly jealous of this sort of love I hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.

It had just seemed another ordinary day. Beth came home from her teaching job at the local school when she found the doors unlocked. Panicked, she walked in on them. The image of her husband, her Jude, sprawled onto her? Vanessa? The nanny? She reeled onto the doors for support. It was only then she noticed the blood.

The detectives found Beth still clinging onto the walls, ashen faced.

Everyone in the neighborhood tried to be there for her. But she seemed to be… unhinged, disconnected. The rumors were strife, yet Beth seemed too calm. And then they came for her.

This was just unbelievable! No one could believe it could be Beth… and yet the evidence. At this point, I found myself thinking hard, contemplating on what I could do. Should do.
‘Should I? Shouldn’t I? Oh Hell. The very last time I am doing this.’ Then I press END. Straight to the last page of the PDF eBook.

What? It’s the spurned lover of the nanny who..? And wow! Beth ends up doing the detective. Great! And the author so couldn’t resist the whole Jude – Nanny angle.

This is the absolute LAST time I am reading a bloody chick lit.

“Dude, why do they even call that thing a Balance?”

“What?”

“The Balance. A statue of a blindfolded lady was holding it on the TV. Weren’t you watching?”

“Dude. Wherever I see, I just see rainbows. No balance.”

“What shit have you been smoking?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Hey! I’m sitting right next to you and inhaling the same stuff. I do wanna know.”

“No you don’t. I’m giving you possible deniability. “

“You mean plausible deniability?”

“Well it is possible, ain’t it?”

“Never-mind. So I’m saying those balance’s people used to use for weighing and stuff like that. I’ve never seen that thing balanced in my life. Ever. The two sides keep going all see-saw over each other and never stay balanced to each other. Then why the fuck do they call it a balance. It should be called unbalance. If you’re calling that a balance then it means you don’t want the life to be balanced. Wait that makes sense. Coz if everything is balanced then there is no hope in the world. Coz if whatever good we do, there would be bad to balance it and the world would remain fucked up. That aint good. Right?”

“What?”

“Were you not listening?”

“All I heard you say was balance a buncha times, so see this I’m balancing this bottle on one finger.”

“You’re such a jer.. wait… that is coool.”

Sun Lie’s hands trembled slightly as she rolled out the dusty painting onto the kitchen table before holding it flat with her feeble fingers.

“Oh, how romantic!” swooned Susan beside her.

“Nan, do you know them?” she asked her grandmother excitedly.

Susan, always eager to spend time with her grandma had come over to clear out the loft in her grandmother’s old house. She came across the painting, rolled up and tied with a pale pink ribbon hidden away in a dark corner behind boxes full of faded memories.

Although the colours had faded somewhat, Susan was aware that she was looking at a beautiful work of art expressing deep feelings of love and anguish. She saw despair in their distraught eyes. The way they clung to each other emphasized a shared fear.

Noticing suddenly that her grandmother sat motionless, Susan tore her eyes from the young Chinese lovers to turn to her grandmother.

Shocked to see tears trickle from her beloved Nan’s eyes, Susan impulsively pushed the painting aside.

“Who are they, Nan?” asked Susan softly, taking her grandma’s hands between her own.

Releasing her fingers, her grandmother pulled the picture back towards her.

Her aged eyes glistered and her pale lips formed a sad smile.

“Hu Jie,” she whispered as her fingertips traced the handsome face of the young man in the picture.

“They forced me to leave you.” Sun Lian’s anguished voice disclosed decades of hidden affliction.

“Nan, what happened?” Susan’s voice was full of concern.

“They sent me as far away from you as possible, Hu Jie. Across the big sea. You were too good for me, they said.” Sun Lian shoulders sagged as she continued. “Your parents had other plans for you – and my parents agreed. That’s what hurt the most, Hu Jie….my parents agreeing…..they knew – you see.”

Susan didn’t move, she was afraid to breathe. Her grandma seemed to have forgotten that she was sitting there.

“Did they ever tell you, my darling? She looked just like you, the same fine features, your charming smile. She inherited your gentleness too, Hu Jie.”

Nothing could be heard but the ticking of the clock as Sun Lian closed her eyes for a moment before continuing.

“Robert took good care of us – little Julie and me. He was a good husband. He loved us.

Sun Lian’s face lit up as she turned her wrinkled face towards Susan.

“Your granddaughter has your dark almond eyes, Hu Jie.”

Susan’s eyes shot from her grandmother to the painting. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “The resemblance is staring right back at me.”

Taking her grandmother tenderly by the arm, Susan suggests, “shall we move to the sofa, Nan? I’d like you to tell me everything – from the very beginning.”

Dear Diary,

Sorry for calling you Dairy, all these days. Madam Krishnan corrected me yesterday. Dairy is the one we get milk products from.

I thought you guys shared the name. Apparently not. Sorry about that.

I saw an episode of Castle today. The episode started and flash-backed to… argh… sorry… flashed-back to ’36 hours earlier’. Why is it always either 36 hours or 20 years when they flash back. Why not 30 hours or say 19 years? Are they all created by the same person? Or is there a rule? Beats me.

Any way, so I watched some TV. Played ‘Kill the Geek’. Its so much more awesome than that stupid Angry Birds. Don’t know why the girls love it so much?

Speaking of girls, Suzie asked me to for a movie with her. I told her why not play games at home. She said she wanted to go out.

I told her we can buy comic books instead, and then she said she wanted to hang with me.

I don’t get it. We hang around at school all day! And who says no to comics? Girls are wierd. Oh, wait. Is it wierd or weird? Wierd sounds about right.

See you tomorrow.

Peace-out Succa!