• "Gylfie, wake up already!" Hisses my sister. I groan and roll over, pushing my thick blonde hair from my face and shoving my glasses onto my face. "I'm sorry," she says immediately after. "I just don't want you to be late for your morning duties." She wrings the wet dishtowel in her hands guiltily.

    "Don't worry about it," I reply. "I don't want the officers to punish you guys," I add. The officers are power-abusive policemen that the nation has employed to make sure that we slave over their precious society. No one likes them. But we listen to protect our families from their wrath. I turn the faucet on over the sink and wet a rag. Ice-cold water always wakes me up, I think, as I scrub my face. I then slip on a jacket and lace up my boots. "See you later Bell," I call, and I slam the door on my way out.

    I check the message box. It sends thin slips of paper to us electronically. The daily list of orders for me sits inside. Thankfully, today is easy. Buy groceries. Collect water. And, of course, my "leisure" activity. A hike to the lake. I decide to start with the water. I grab our storage key and walk to the storage units in the center of the town.

    I had always hated the storage units. As I step in, I'm immediately engulfed by a musty scent and a coating of gray-brown dust... lovely. I shake out my dark locks and jog to the manager desk, my way lit by a few dim light bulbs. An officer sits there, waiting.

    "Storage unit number?" He asks in an even, robotic voice.

    "Three-hundred eighty-six," I tell him calmly. He'll tase me if he picks up even a hint of sarcasm. I hold up the key in my hands.

    "You may pass," he responds, and I trot away. "Go slowly!" He calls after, and I slow down until I am out of his eyesight.

    I eventually manage to find the storage unit. Our "unnecessary" items, engulfed in padlocked chain link fencing. I jam the key into the lock and step in, grabbing a wooden plank and three buckets. It's not heavy now, but it sure will be when I out water inside each of the buckets. The stupid officer at the desk prints me a rental ticket. I must return the supplies in three hours time, or suffer some kind of punishment.

    When I'm out of the storage units, I feel much better. The fresh air is circulated by a brisk breeze and the clouds blanket the sky. Thunder rumbles from somewhere far away, but I don't mind. If I hurry, I'll finish the chores before the storm hits.

    The trek to the pump is short, even though I had to stop and buy some iodine. I arrive when the first raindrops are falling. I wash the dust from each bucket first, then fill them with water. It's actually quite the task. The pump is stiff and I have to use all my body weight to push the handle down. It's finally done. Carrying the buckets makes me feel like my spine was splitting.

    When I was finally done with the groceries and hiking, it was dark outside, and a huge storm was in full force. The wind screamed and thunder shook our ramshackle house. Officers turned off the power to limit damage, and Bell begins to cry.

    "I hate it here," she sobs.

    "Me too..." I reply. I have nothing more to say. We can do nothing.