Trash

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear."

"What is trash?"

The notes in the notebook felt like a secret language to me. Trash can. What was it? Why had it to be on the street. We never went outside. I had never walked on the street. Not the one in front of our house or anyone else. I knew there was a street. The house we lived in was built at the site of it. The streets were clean and empty most of the time. Once in a while, I heard the robocops and cleaning bots passing by. Because of them, our windows had blinds. The cops registered and it was not allowed to be outside without a good reason. It was also not allowed to watch them. That's what dad told me every day. The streets need to be safe and kept safe for those who needed to use them. As dad was a little kid he could go outside. He said some neighbourhoods were dangerous. His parents didn't want him to go over there. He had to stay behind the fence and with his parents, he walked the streets. It all had sounded scary to me. I don't think I like to walk outside if I need to watch over my shoulder. Dad said people used knives, some had guns, others axes and each one did the same. They tried to kill you. If you kill someone you are a murderer which is a bad thing. Dad says it hurts if someone stabs you with a knife and it can be hard to stop the bleeding. He showed me his veins and my old pictures of how I look inside. Everything that is coloured red blood comes out. We never had a knife in our house or a fork. At least that's what I thought because I never saw one. Our food is delivered and we can eat it with our hand or drink it. Sometimes there's a spoon. If we finished our meal we have to put everything back into the cabinet.
The pantry has knives and forks, spoons everything you need to cook. I only had a quick look inside the drawer and that was all. Mom said we will not need a knife. What is inside the jars and cans is already cooked or cut into pieces. She tells me what it is and hopes I will remember it. The pictures in the books do not always look the same. Sometimes it looks different. What she calls fruits does. The fruits in the picture look good. I wonder how it feels and smells. The one in the jars look different and it all tastes very sweet. I only tried some small jars and we shared them.
Mom doesn't want it to get spoiled and too much sugar is not allowed. Twice a week my parents stay at the platform. It's for checking the body, weight, temperature and mom says pee is automatically checked too. They who take care of us say it's important. If we are sick we have to stay in our cabin. A voice tells us. It's the HRB who does. Perhaps these are the eyes and ears in the wall?
Sick people are dangerous to all of us. It's good to know someone is watching over mom and dad so they can look after me. 

"Trash is what you don't need. Everything you do not use and want out of your house. If you do not give it to someone else to use you put it in a bin. That container needs to be emptied. If not it smells and you can not put anything into it."

"How do you empty it?"

"You don't. You just take the garbage outside on a certain day a day it's collected by a large truck."

"A truck?"

"It's a huge vehicle and it smells," dad said as he joined us on the sofa. "Believe me it smells terrible and it was a good thing they were no longer needed."

I thought deep and hard. Trash was what we no longer needed. Everything we had was used and could not be given away. The cabins, sofa, screen and table were all attached to the house. The bots could move. I looked at the kitchen bot. The bot no one ever used.

"We don't need the kitchen bot, do we? Is the kitchen bot trash?"

Mom and dad looked at each other and next at the bot and laughed out loud.

"No, dear the kitchen bot isn't trash," mom laughed, "not as long as it isn't in our way or we might need it."

So mom kept the bot in case of need? I wondered why because if we needed something she tipped at the screen and it was delivered.

"It's an old bot but a fine one we just don't need it," dad said as he noticed my puzzled face. "It's better to save than to order. Orders are not an unlimited honey bee, everything has its price."

Mom nodded and we drank our water. One mug for each of us. The only hot drink I had was the tea she let me cook lately. I wasn't used to the taste yet but somehow I liked it better than water. The water had a strange taste. Dad said it was because of what they added to it. As he was my age he couldn't drink the water from the tap but his grandparents did. Now there were tiny things in the water. Things that should keep us healthy. I tried to see them but saw nothing. I'm not sure if dad made a joke because he laughed as he saw me looking. I even kept my mug in the light.

So the kitchen bot isn't trash because mom and dad like to keep it. Everything in the pantry is no trash either. They saved it. The pantry isn't trash because they kept it and how we use it. I wondered what a trash can looks like.

"Is it big or small,' I liked to know.

"What dear?"

"The trash can of course," I said. "Where is ours?"

"We don't need one," dad said. "We do not throw away anything we need a bin for."

"We don't?"

"No, we don't."

"How come? What did people put in it?"

"Everything they no longer needed or couldn't use and fit in. Paper, glass, plastic. Toys, pens, notebooks, clothes, what is broken or torn. Food they don't eat..."

Perplex I stared at my mother.

"Where did that come from?"

"It was made. Produced in factories. People bought it and everything bought was wrapped into something. Plastic, paper, paper and plastic. All sorts of drinks were sold in bottles..."

"We went out to shops to buy everything we needed. Groceries, clothes, soap, blankets, games and television sets," dad put in. "I hated those shopping days with my mother. Bags, bags and more bags. Life is so much easier this way."

I felt confused and for a second I thought mom looked uncomfortable. I snuggled up to her and hoped it wasn't me who made her feel unhappy. It was hard to imagine a world different from the one I was raised in. Dad wanted me to read the notebook for a reason. The first page with three notes only opened an entirely new world for me. It started with the 'trash can' and there was more to ask and who knows to discover.

"Bedtime honey bee," dad said as the screen lighted while a buzz sounded through the air. Mom kissed my hand as dad lifted me and carried me to my cabin.

"Dad, did you ask her?"

"Ask what?"

"About the chimney... can we have a look inside?"

"We will soon. I promise you we will but we should be prepared."

"Prepared? What do you mean?"

"I mean that if we go down there we don't know what we will see. It can be nothing, it can be dark or perhaps there's a long road to walk."

"A road like a street?"

"Something like that. If it's dark we need light. If the road is long we need water, perhaps food and something else."

"What else? The kitchen tools or the bot?"

"I don't know but we figure it out before we go. First comes first. You can have a look in the notebook if you like. He stroked my cheek and closed the cabin. It was time to sleep and sleep was all I needed. Tomorrow I would open the notebook again. With my left hand on the booklet wrapped in the towel, I fell asleep.
Mom was outside and waved at me and I waved back from behind the window. I watched how she dragged the trash can outside and another one and another one and another one. There were four each with a different colour. I heard a terrible noise, reeked a terrible scent. Two hands lifted mom in the air and swung her away in the hole at the back of a truck.
" Mom don't leave me," I screamed, "You stupid men. Mom isn't trash. I still need her and so does dad. You should take the garbage, what stinks so bad!"

Part 1: What's cooking

Part 2: Stretching

Part 3: Monsters

Part 4: Guilty

Part 5: The pantry


#kittywu #nanowrimo #freewrite #story #november