Chapter 9: Myra

Myra must make it through the checkpoint to reach the Settlement for her first day at Phoenix.

Previously on PHOENIX… Myra has finally received the letter she had been anxiously awaiting: she has a job at Phoenix, under the direction of the legendary Rosalind Richards. Now, she embarks on a journey to the Settlement for the first time, a path fraught with setbacks and uncertainty…

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When Myra saw the checkpoint, she almost turned around. Something about being so close to her future, this impossible dream that was finally materializing, had her feet rooted to the ground. It was strange to be on the precipice of something she’d wanted for so long. She joined the back of a lengthy line that curled all the way to a small white building embedded into the wall.

The border wall extended through the sides of her vision. It was visible from everywhere in the Banks, its looming height casting a shadow over everything. The houses in the Banks extended almost all the way to the wall, separated by the thin alleyways, like where Myra and Zahir had run through just the day before. It felt like ages, a whole different life.

Now, Myra was beginning her real life. No more games with Zahir. The line to get there, however, was very slow-moving. As she crept closer, Myra realized it was due to the influx of citizens pleading their cases with the officers after being denied entry. In fact, most people in the line were denied entry. The only crossings were for the transport of goods or, rarely, for work permits.

A man fell to the ground beside the line as he tried to enter the checkpoint. The officers grabbed his arms, dragging up a plume of dust as they hauled him away. He screamed the whole time, “Just let me cross,” he said, “I’ll do anything,” but they never responded.

As the line thinned, more and more people were given strict denials, their shoulders hunched as they made their way back to the Banks. She wondered why they kept trying, even when they didn’t have the right papers. It was a certainty that they would be turned away by the least lenient officers under the Dome.

Myra touched her pocket again, making sure her work papers were still there. Unlike almost everything else in the Dome, the work permits were not digital; the crisp envelope had contained a signed letter from Rosalind Richards, along with the permit and instructions for reaching Phoenix headquarters. Myra couldn’t remember another time that she’d held paper. She’d run her fingers along it endlessly, entranced by the smoothness, then yanking her hands back, determined not to sully its perfection.

She had determinedly suppressed the urge to tell Zahir. About the paper, about the job, about the fact that she was standing in line alone, when he certainly would’ve come with her, even if he couldn’t cross himself. She tried to avoid the hurt that had threaded around her heart, but it was already tangled, along with the guilt that she didn’t want to explore.

What was there to say? He believed that all she wanted was the job, that she was willing to do anything to anyone to get there, and he wasn’t wrong.

But he didn’t know everything. He’d taken everyone else’s word over hers. If he believed the worst without ever asking her side of the story, she wouldn’t beg him to listen. He clearly could not tolerate her presence, which was all very well since she had her job now.

Regardless, Myra knew he would’ve been excited to see the paper, and so she refused to think about it anymore.

The line moved steadily now; most of those without real business had been escorted away. A man in front of her wore a blue factory worker’s jumpsuit, his hands calloused and stained. That wasn’t her future anymore. Myra tried to suppress the victory she felt over her own countrymen. It made her feel dirty, so she tried to scrub the thought away, instead picturing what the people would look like in the Settlement. She’d heard so many stories she didn’t know what was truth. At school, everyone said that the women and the men injected their faces with plastic to prevent aging, causing Myra to imagine horrifying visions of bloated faces that wouldn’t leave her brain. But that had been merely childish worries fueled by the older kids in the neighborhood.

As she got older, she saw actual pictures of people from the news, but they only covered important people, like the Richards family. She’d seen Regina Richards’ face so many times she could conjure it from memory. The Settlement golden girl, who moved trends with a mere paparazzi picture. All those pictures, and Myra had never seen her smile. At least her face was not puffed up with plastic like her nightmares, but she always looked smugly miserable. Myra couldn’t imagine ever being upset living in the Richards’ family Manor.

The buildings, she had dedicated much imagination to those. Palatial mansions with sprawling gardens. Crystal fountains on every corner. Myra had heard that they had unlimited water in the Settlement, unlike the showers in the Banks that turned off after five minutes, and the faucets that never got warm.

She blinked away her daydreams when she found herself face to face with two officers at the front of the line, who nodded at the paper she showed them with shaking hands. It was hard to focus on their faces and not the enormous guns hanging over their belts, which she tried not to look at. All the officers had those, but there was something about these men, who seemed to tilt their guns into her peripheral vision, so she tried not to ignore them.

They escorted her inside the building, which was blindingly white and much cooler than the dusty line. There were almost no Banks citizens, but officers stood at every corner. At the back of the room was a single counter completely covered with thick glass, with a small microphone embedded in the bottom.

Myra handed over her paper again, trying to suppress the tremors that wouldn’t stop. The officer behind the counter didn’t speak, just grabbed the paper and typed something into a computer. The room filled with a harsh quiet, except for a distant background hum and the clack of the keys. Myra felt the eyes of all the officers on her, knowing that it was only the small piece of paper that prevented her from being dragged away like so many of the others.

Two of the officers seemed to be playing some sort of game in the back. They looked too young, though they were probably her age, just out of school. What was it like to be an officer, not a factory worker by default like everyone else in the Banks? It was a startling realization that she didn’t need to group herself with everyone else. She wasn’t like them anymore. She had gotten out.

She would get more money, and her mom wouldn’t have to wake up at daybreak to work for little pay. They’d always have fruit at the kitchen table, and her mom wouldn’t have to patch over worn patches in her clothes.

The lady passed her papers back. “Are you aware of the rules of entry?” Her voice was slightly muffled through the speaker. Myra shook her head. All the instructions were on that small paper.

“If you are found in the Settlement past sunset, you will face a fine.”

“If you are found wandering or loitering in the Settlement and you are not on the way to your job, or have written permission from your boss to be roaming, you could be arrested.”

“If your employer suspects you of any other wrongdoing, your passage permit will be revoked.”

Myra nodded.

“Do you understand?” The woman’s sudden, harsh tone startled Myra. She nodded again, vigorously.

“Yeah. Of course. Yes.”

The two soldiers from the back of the room approached Myra, their faces blank and emotionless. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she felt her palms sweating where they clasped her bag. She tried to ignore them, thinking they were merely leaving the room, but they got closer and closer, until one of them took her bag right from her hands.

“Hey, that’s my bag!” Myra reached out her hands as if to take it back, only to find her arms entrapped by the other officer.

The woman behind the counter was just as uninterested as she had been when Myra had arrived. She tried to free her arms, but the officer was much stronger than she was. What were they doing with her? She thought she was about to be let into the Settlement, not dumped back in the Banks?

Ever placid, the woman replied, “If you do not struggle, you will be fine. Your bag will be searched as well as your clothing before you are free to pass through to the Settlement.”

Why was she being led around like a criminal? Hadn’t they asked her to come work?

She stilled her arms, which the officer had wrenched behind her back. One of the officers dragged her into a room at the back of the main office. The room was darker than the outside, and the air was thick. It was hard to take a breath now.

Inside was a woman wearing the same uniform as the officers outside. The door slammed closed behind her, and the walls felt like they were moving closer towards her. The room was so white that Myra had to look down.

The woman approached her, placing her hands on Myra’s shoulder. Through the panic in her head, Myra was briefly grateful that this wasn’t one of the men from before.

“This can be easy, or you can make it difficult. Do you understand me?” The woman’s eyes were so close to Myra’s that she could see every little sliver of pale blue within them, like little flashes of lightning.

Myra nodded.

“Place all of your belongings on the table. Including your clothes.”

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On the other side of the border wall, Myra stopped to catch her breath. The contents of her bag were spilling out, and every button on her fanciest shirt was one off. She had to get herself together before the most important first impression of her life.

She tried to shove her hair back into order, unable to suppress the disorder of her whole body. Everything felt unclean, from the clamminess of her palms to her still shaking legs.

They’d treated her like a common criminal. Was this what they did for everyone, or had something flagged her as a threat? Her bag contained nothing dangerous. She had thought of her work permit like a shining golden pass, and at least she’d made it to the other side. For a moment, she’d feared that they would rip her permit into shreds and carry her screaming back to the side where she belonged.

The cold, distant eyes of the inspector flashed through her mind. She supposed she should be grateful she hadn’t searched her gleefully, or done something worse, but the cruel indifference stung. How many strip searches would she endure before it became a fact of life?

Her mom hadn’t prepared her for that part. In fact, Myra was certain that she’d never mentioned this daily indignity.

Myra checked her watch, grateful that only three hours had passed since she had first entered the line. That, at least, her mom had warned her about, insisting she arrive far earlier than Myra had believed necessary.

Only with her bag in order, her buttons in their spots, did she look up at her surroundings. She was dismayed to find that the Settlement still looked quite like the Banks from where she stood. Tilting her head higher, she was able to get a glimpse of the city she had longed to see, and this did disappoint.

Never in the Banks did the buildings tower so high, nor did they glitter with broad planes of gleaming glass. And in the middle of the most important towers stood the Center Square, with every building of importance that Myra recognized from her research. President Royce’s mansion towards the back, the Council office and adjacent housing, the Manor where Russell Richards lived with his daughter, and the famed garden museum, a glistening terraformed construction that was placed right in the center. In it were all sorts of plants and flowers, cultivated specially by scientists for viewing only. The exception, of course, was the sacred orange tree, which legend said that Royce Richards had brought with him to the Settlement as a small branch in his pocket, but was nourished and upheld by a team of twenty, or so Myra had heard. Each year, it produced a small amount of produce that Royce would distribute to his most intimate family and friends.

Now, Myra might get to see it for herself.

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Thank you for reading this latest installment!! The girls are getting closer and closer to meeting :)) I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!