Juniper

I rushed after Pearson, pushing past hurrying WellCorp employees crowding the street. The first glimpse of starlight started to peek out from beyond the clouds, and I had to shield my eyes to keep the glare from blinding my vision. 

Pearson took a sharp corner left onto Main Street, knocking over a bicyclist with his briefcase in the process. He held up his watch, staring at it as if he was willing for time to stop. 

Where was he going that had him in such a hurry?

I turned the corner and a realization hit me. The monorail system was just ahead of me. Pearson was trying to make his train. 

I had to stop to help up the cyclist – she was attempting to stand up, but her left leg was at a terrifyingly obtuse angle. Good thing I knew a shortcut. 

“Are you okay?”

I reached out my hand, concerned. 

The cyclist let out a pained grunt and took it, balancing on her right leg. She needed more help, help that I couldn’t give her. 

“Do you have anyone who can pick you up?” I asked her. “I can call someone if you’d like.”

The cyclist rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a cracked 

“Thank you so much,” She tried to smile. “I can take it from here, I swear. Could you just help me over to a bench?”

I guided the injured woman to a nearby metal bench, just past the curb. Out of the corner of my eye, Pearson disappeared inside the station. 

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“No,” she replied. “You have already done plenty. Now go, child. Trust me, you’d be best off not missing the train. You were rushing there just now, right?”

In that moment, I loved her, like so much. She was just like my late nana, bringing me back to my peaceful childhood. I better check up on her later.

I nodded to her and turned to leave, jetting off into the crowd. I had to sprint if I was to make the train. But I knew a guy. I’d be fine.  

I darted into the crowded station, pushing past commuters and murmuring near-silent sorries and pardons. 

The monorail atrium was flooded with packed lines at a near constant basis, desperate customers waiting to swipe in their passes to machines that were constantly breaking. The grandiose hall was humid and warm from the sheer amount of bodies in the space. It felt just like home. 

When I first arrived on Gamma-8, the first thing that took quite some time to get used to was the absolutely frigid weather. I mean, man, there is like no sunlight here. The pollution from the factories blocks out the sunlight, and gray rains flood the streets on a weekly basis. 

I didn’t bring any rain gear. Heck, I didn’t even bring a coat.

Every day, I would wake up shivering. Every day, I would go down to work sniffling, not yet possessing even enough money to purchase a scarf.

Every day, at the end of every shift, I would walk down to this station and just sit on one of the benches on the periphery, eating my wrapped dinner from the café and waving to strangers as they passed by. It was great people watching. 

That was where I met Flak, the coolest person I have ever talked to. He’d been through everything and seen everything, and now headed up the janitorial staff at the station. 

Now, I was on a mission to track him down. 

Instead of flowing into the lines at the gates like the other commuters, I swerved left, heading to the red employees only doors. They stuck out like a lightbulb amidst the sea of gray tiles, and despite my love of the temperature within the building, I was eager to get to the train as soon as 

I pushed past the doors and entered a dimly lit tunnel, a tunnel I knew would lead to the WellCorp train platform. It was a bit of a risk, I know, but I didn’t have time to take the safe option and wait in line.

I darted into the rusted passageways, trying to remember what Flak had told me all those evenings ago. Right, left, right, was it? The rusty air was getting me, clouding my senses as I pushed against the mildewy handrails. 

It was minutes before I reached the yellow door signifying a platform door. Too late to turn back now, and all for some apple?

It was more than that though. It was a reminder of my homeland. It was a chance to keep my heritage, to finally have flora to work on. It was my lifeblood. 

I hopped onto the platform and checked the overhead sign. Only one minute to go, and Pearson was just three paces away from me. 

I would have to thank Flak later once I got my apple. 

A light began to shine at the end of the monorail tunnel. It grew brighter and brighter by the minute, the noise from the rail only growing louder and louder, becoming unbearable. 

But then it stopped, the train before us. 

“Monorail to WellCorp Offices and Business Quarter now boarding,” I heard a voice crackle over the speakers. 

The doors huffed open, commuters spilling out into the station. I rushed into the train, eager to grab a seat. I know it’s selfish, taking a seat from someone who likely needs it more, but man I was tired. Plus, I had a good view of Pearson across from me.  

I snatched a seat near the end next to an elderly man clutching a massive briefcase and a woman with almost electric hair, it shining blue in the fluorescent light. 

I sat down with a thumph and waved a good morning to my neighbors. The elderly man gave a cheery hello, while the lady next to me offered a similar wave, a small smile painted on her face. 

Pearson looked miserable across from me, his precious apples still clutched tightly to his chest. He didn’t seem to recognize me, even with my work uniform still on. I guess I’m just not that memorable. 

“The doors are now closing,” the voice from above announced. “Please step away from the exits.”

And with that we were off, only three stations away from what I thought would be Pearson’s destination. 

I shifted around in my seat, settling in for the quick ride. The train was spacious but definitely not comfy, built for quantity rather than quantity. But I had a seat! I had never ridden the monorail in a seat anymore, always choosing to stand up instead. I had the sudden urge to spread out my legs, but man, I wouldn’t dare make that nice old man next to me squish further into the bar next to him. It was already a tight fit.

The first station came and went, with more and more passengers boarding the train and obstructing my view of Mr. Apple. Difficult, I’d imagine, as the man was wearing a bright purple hat. 

I watched the cobblestone tunnel walls pass through the window behind me, spacing out from the murmur of conversations saturating the train. 

We arrived at the second station in a rush, with the announcer announcing a flood in the Agriculture Quarter, preventing the station from operating. Terrifying, all that gray water drowning the flora, flora only purchased by the rich and the powerful. 

I could feel it in my veins, the life waning from this planet. It physically hurt me, making me nauseous and light-headed. I only needed a few more years, then I could disappear.  

I needed to focus. Pearson’s stop was next.  

The train shot off from the station, and I got my first glimpse of the man since the first stop. He looked queasy and disgusted, covering his mouth with his off hand. He would need a couple of seconds to get up, so there was no need to hurry. 

As the train sped up, I kept a laser-like focus on Mr. Apple, not letting myself get distracted by the passengers on the train. I needed that apple. I deserved that apple. 

The monorail ride passed in a hurry, and before I knew it, I was at the official WellCorp station, its cold, modern interior distinguishing it from the other stations. Mr. Pearson took a minute to ready himself, shaking his head a bit before standing. 

I moved to get up, but something was holding me back. Something was caught on my ankles.

Or someone. 

I had been handcuffed to the metal bar beneath me.