Osem Jeden

My name is Thomas. I am 20 years old. I have lived in the city of New World all my life. My city is gray and cold. All buildings look the same - tall, concrete, without colors.

New World is not like other cities. Here everything is under control. Each day is the same as the previous one. We have rules for everything. When to wake up. What to eat. How to dress.

In the morning I wake up at six. Always at six, not a minute later. The alarm rings only once. Whoever doesn't get up has a problem. I drink black coffee. We don't have milk. Nobody here has had milk for five years. They said it would return. I don't believe it.

I always eat the same breakfast - dry bread and some fruit. I don't have more. Neighbors have even less. Some have nothing.

I walk to work. The journey takes exactly 30 minutes. We don't have cars. Only the government has cars. Black, shiny, with dark windows. You never know who is inside.

The streets are quiet. People don't talk. They just walk, looking down. Cameras are everywhere. They watch every step.

At work I sit at a computer. I work in building number 7. I do what they tell me. I write codes. I don't know what they're for. I can't ask. I can't talk to other people. There are twenty of us in the room. Everyone is silent.

The break is short. Only 15 minutes. For lunch I eat only vegetables. Meat is rare. Meat is only for rich people. Rich people live in another part of the city. I've never been there.

In the evening I return home. The streets are empty and quiet. Everyone is home. After eight nobody can be outside. Guards check every corner.

My apartment is small. I have only one room. It is clean, but empty. The furniture is old. I have an old television. It shows only one channel. The news is always good. They say we are lucky. That elsewhere it is worse.

For dinner I eat canned food. Sometimes rice. Occasionally we get extra ration cards for sugar or flour. Then it's a holiday.

Before sleeping I read a book. I have only three books. I cannot have more books. Books are dangerous, they say. They bring bad thoughts.

Tomorrow will be like today. Another day in New World. Everyone says it's normal. That I should be content.

But I have a secret. I found an old radio under the floor of my apartment. Someone hid it there before me. At night I listen to news from other places. The signal is weak. Often noisy.

They say that beyond the mountains is freedom. That there people can speak loudly. They can meet. They have colors, music, books. One day I will go there.

I've started saving food. I hide it under the bed. I drew a map according to what I hear on the radio. The journey is long and dangerous. There are guards and dogs at the borders.

Tonight I will decide. I can't bear it any longer. I'm leaving New World. Either I'll find freedom, or I'll die. Both are better than living like this.

I escaped in the night, but the mountains were just another fabrication, like everything else. Now I sit in a small cell, and on the wall I see an inscription from my predecessor: "Freedom is just an illusion they gave us so we would have something to lose."