The Blazing and The CoolingTemperature is a funny thing. An annoying thing, too. Why can't it just be warm, not hot or cold. I haven't felt warmth since I was 5. I'm 14, and it's been too long.
"Lynn, will you please close the tubes? The cold air might get in" My mom says, stern. She wants us to be safe, not dying like the many others from the Temperature. The Temperature is just the one word we use to describe both the Blazing and the Cooling. The Blazing is when it's so hot, it literally burns your skin off. The Cooling is when it's so cold, you would freeze the second your skin touches the air.
"Sure." I stand up and walk to the door. I press the blue button beside the door knob. I brush my hand over the knob briefly, but jerk back from how cold it is. I look at my finger, only to see it's a light shade of purple. That's how could just the brush of metal on your skin is.
It's not always cold. Just at night. Not always hot. Just during the day.
"Lynn, I need to go to the City Hall." My mom says when I come back to the sitting room. She is pulling on a hazard suit, a thick jacket, and multiple hats, gloves, socks, anything to keep her warm.
"Why?" I ask, suddenly nervous. The last time my mom went to the City Hall, she had to sign a paper, saying that my dad would be frozen and kept in a room with the other frozen bodies. My dad did freeze when he died, but that eventually wears off. The have to preserve them, in hopes that when the Temperature settles, we can reincarnate them.
"And you can't call the Helpers?" I ask, thinking back to the Helpers. Helpers go around and make sure everyone is as safe as possible. No one wants to die, and quite frankly, the government needs all of us. They have to send us out on Expeditions.
"We are running low on helpers. They are still looking for people willing." My mom says as she puts on her third pair of socks. I walk back to my room and close the door. I walk to my dresser and pick up my golden pocket watch. My dad gave it to me before he died, just when the weather started getting bad. It's cool, but not cold. It doesn't make me cringe, but comforts me. A tear slips down my cheek. I hear the tube slide shut. My mom is gone, so I can cry without worrying if she's going to see me.
Crying is weird. You not only look extremely ugly after it, but it's comforting. It makes you feel better, oddly. When I cry, I have only cried for one reason. I cried for my dad, for the emptiness I feel when I think about him. But now, I am crying because I know what I'm going to do will risk my life, crush my mom, and probably be my only chance.