The Red Room is a short story about a Queen who has to make decisions that will leave a permanent mark on her people.
Genre:
Sci-Fi
Dystopian
Drama
Thriller
The Red Room
They call me "Red Death" under their breath, but "Queen Red" is what they call me to my face. I am what you would call a survivor. Surviving and living. Two terribly different tasks. See, I've never been one for this living thing. It reeks of a constant desire for comfort, leading to boredom and then, ironically, chaos. I was born into a time of war. Survival is in the very sinew that crawls across my body. It is how my hands work, my eyes study, and my brain plans. It has been this way from the time I was a young child. In the world of survival, there are no bounds, no lines inside which one must stay. Many people, the ones who weren’t born into a time like I was, the ones who didn’t grow up with the mentality of whatever it takes, don’t understand this.
World War V began 107 years ago when a toxic chemical compound was unleashed on Earth and spread from Japan, ultimately encompassing the entire globe. The Biological Weapons Convention was no longer in place, as the United Nations had essentially crumbled under the weight of the worldwide devastation. Who started what and where is foggy now, but it isn’t crucial to our survival now that it’s in the past. Everyone has their own theories, but no one can claim the truth anymore, and it doesn’t really matter to me. All that matters is that wars mean bunkers and bunkers means survival. My town was fully prepared for what was to come with enough food to last 80 years for our 2,000+ population. I was born inside these bunkers into a world at war both inside my bunker and out… if there was anyone on the surface still alive.
Our first conflict inside our little bunker was on the 15th day. One of our mechanical machinery personnel, Keene, threw a bit of a "temper tantrum," which I've been told was understandable given his wife's death from the gas. As an act of simultaneous suicide and mass murder, he set fire to our food cellar. It's safe to assume he blamed us for what happened to his wife. The large number of seeds needed for planting to continue our agricultural farm went up in smoke. The people were lucky that the oxygen tanks did not come close to the flames, but the man cost them decades' worth of stored food (MREs) as well as food yet to be planted. They had to reduce their rations drastically.
Of course, suicide rates began increasing as the search continued for any way to add more food to our stockpile. Quite honestly, it's a miracle that I am even here. Although my mother was nearly eight months pregnant before going underground, the chaos that ensued after Keene's act of arson made it a hostile environment for many of our citizens, let alone a pregnant one. Many people believed pregnant women shouldn't be allowed to enter the bunker, claiming it would be a waste to produce another mouth to feed. Thankfully, those people were majorly outnumbered by those who saw children as a way to keep the human race going. We weren't even precisely sure how long we'd have to stay underground.
Things progressed as one would expect over the next twenty years or so, with major and minor attempts at overthrowing the board of advisors, called The Directoriums, set up to govern us inside the bunker and significant numbers of citizens dying off due to starvation. Over time, I gained quite a bit of popularity among the citizens. They seemed to implicitly trust me as this world was the only one I knew. I began to rise through the ranks of The Directoriums, and by my 23rd year in the bunker, I was given the role of Monarch Supremus. My task was to care for the people's basic needs—food, water, shelter, etc.
Stealing was one of the most significant hurdles to success in my position. My predecessor was caught harboring supplies and was ousted by The Directoriums immediately. It never dawned on anyone that the person with the most power could quickly get away with the crimes, but it never really surprised me. Weak-willed people stole. Some stole for sport, others for insurance, but what they failed to understand was that stealing from your neighbor was to steal from us all.
Arresting people as punishment for their crimes only seemed to increase their desire to commit heinous acts. To make matters worse, when they were detained, they gained the assurance of a place to sleep, one meal a day, and enough water to quench their everlasting thirst. Because of these amenities, they knew we couldn't keep them locked up forever, so they'd continue to rebel to ensure their own "safety." These types of people could never seem to ponder the fact that if they wanted us to survive as a whole population, they couldn't be recklessly selfish. They were practically signing each others' death warrants with each of their crimes.
In my first few years as Monarch Supremus, it began to dawn on me that there was only one solution to this issue, one that only a true survivor could stomach. So, I did what survivors do.
The room for weapons and training in the bunker was easily changed up and filled with simple weapons such as knives, clubs, and staffs. The better and more essential weapons like our guns and advanced tech were moved to avoid waste. I decided that today, I would begin sending this week's criminals into the center of the weaponry room. Then I called for an assembly. The room had spectating points all around, as it was made for people to observe training in the first place. I stood on a balcony that looked over the four criminals I placed in the middle of the room and started my announcement through the intercom. People watched from every corner of the hexagonal-shaped room, and I watched as their expressions altered with my words.
"From now on, there will be no permanent cells. I can't keep every last person in this bunker locked up for their crimes. Instead, if you are going to continue to commit crimes against your neighbors and citizens down here in the bunker, rather than finding yourself in a cell, you will fight. You will be taken to this room, invited to choose a weapon of your choice, and whoever wins lives and will be pardoned for their crimes. Think of this as the Coliseum in Rome; you fight, survive. You don't fight; you die. Your choice." I took a deep breath.
I released my air and readied myself for what I knew needed to be done. "As you all know, we have struggled to provide sustainable rations for years because of our food supply shortages since our 15th day underground. This shortage has led us to an unavoidable fate. To make up for these losses, drastic measures are necessary. Those who die in this room contain the nutrients we need to survive, dare I say thrive, in this bunker. Therefore, together, as a community, we will consume those who lose their battle, be it any cause of death where the bodies are still edible." I paused for a moment so they could understand the gravity of the situation. People's eyes widened, tears formed, legs trembled, and yet others showed no reaction whatsoever. I figured those would be our first few meals.
I continued, "Those who refuse to eat will join the fighting pit. No one exceeds the law, especially not when it's vital to our survival. They lose so we can win… they die so we can live. "I raised my arms as I stood over the four men drenched in fear. Pointing in their direction,
"Welcome to the Red Room. Let the fighting begin!"
©Charlize Andrews 2022
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