Chantal’s eagerness leads her to dissect the reseeded-steel crate I set to the side. She reaches for the coat that covers its contents while the last of my sanity works on correcting the skip in my music player. I read in one of his archives that Bono was the only artist nominated for not only a Grammy and Golden Globe, but also a Nobel Peace Prize. Bono’s worldwide support and selfless need to care is an archetype that I dream to achieve. I imagine that perhaps I will be able to change the world by listening to the recordings made by my late grandfather.
“You’re too young to know who Bono was, or me for that matter.” I skip a couple tracks on the music player to find an audible song. “But everyone needs a hero who tries to make the world a better place.”
“A better place?” Chantal focuses on the unlatched silver collar in her hand while my reasoning and imagination meet my gaze and understanding outside the window.
“No better place than the city of Thicket. Nothing needs changing. We can refurbish the old and recycle the new, then transform it into something that can make us live forever.” I point at the thick layer of reassembled-glass that protects me from falling. “See the link-rails that connect each building? We have a silver collar to thank for that idea.”
The city of Thicket is not just another stronghold against the desert winds, but an oasis of luxury. Within the city limits, silver collar pedestrians are majority. Thicket’s people have the protection that some do not desire. I believe that if the people have renewed belief in SCS, a brighter future could be re-imagined.
“We’ll go back to the east sector club and ask if anyone’s seen Jessica.”
“Not with another collar I’m not!” Chantal drops the unlatched silver collar, which echoes a thunderous clang when hitting the floor. I turn in attack mode.