Ramiro's Story: Memory 2
What is Ramiro doing...? Stop him before he does something he regrets.
Now it was winter. This meant that even though the sun shone happily, showering all Aldenians with God's light, citizens still found themselves buried under layers of clothing. The sidewalks in the capital had already been salted twice over and cars crawled along the street, hoping to avoid a crash.
However, these extra hours of sunlight did provide some positives. People were allowed to work later and harder, which was the case for Ramiro's mother. (The hospitals were extra busy during this time of year). She'd be there all night, he reckoned. So, with the sun still high in the sky, the young boy started his walk home, patting his pants pocket every few minutes.
Getting home didn't take too long considering he was coming from a friend's house. 75% of the hybrids in Alden City lived in the same area. Of course, not only hybrids lived in this area but the majority of the residents were, which led to it being nicknamed the "Hybrid District." It was located on the outskirts of the city and had developed its own cultural sphere because of that. You could say that there were two different Alden Cities. One that belonged to the hybrids and one that belonged to... well, everyone else.
Ramiro stopped in front of his apartment door, shaking his head to get the snow off his coat. Reaching inside his satchel, he fumbled around with the objects inside. Textbooks, notes, phone, ah- there it is. The boy pulled out his house key and clumsily inserted it in the lock. Three failed attempts later and he was in!
A few seconds later, he had flopped down on the couch. He had to slither out of his coat, leaving it on the couch as the heater chugged away in the corner. A blue remote sat on the table in front of him. TV would be nice right now but the child had something to do. He pushed himself up and sighed, scratching at his chest. These sweaters were comfortable but the hair they collected through use made them itchy.
When he pulled his hand away, the young hybrid noticed that it was shaking. Instinctively, he balled it into a fist. But, after releasing it, his hand went back to shaking. Ramiro held up his hands and noticed that both of them were. Slowly, he lowered them and told himself that it must have been the weather even though he knew that wasn't the case.
Ramiro walked to his room at the end of the hall. It was probably for the best that he got this over with. If his heart was going to keep pounding in his chest like this, he would never end up doing this. Slipping out of his shoes, Ramiro let the soft carpet carry him over to his desk, where he sat and pulled the blinds behind him down.
Inhale...
Exhale...
He touched his pants pocket again, then, quickly, pulled out a flash drive from them. Booting up his laptop would take awhile, but in the meantime he coddled the little stick of plastic like it could somehow disappear from him. When his laptop finally started, he looked at it with a newfound hatred. A snarl formed at his snout.
It had taken him 11 years to realize that these computers were sold nowhere else in the world. A model made by Aldenians for Aldenians. That was the slogan wasn't it? However, everyone else probably looked down on them for being backwards and wrong.
It had taken him 11 years to realize that he didn't have access to the real internet. That instead it had been a government-made facade made to act as if he had freedom.
It had taken him 11 years to realize that with this little stick of plastic, he would be considered a criminal by the state. He wondered how many people had "disappeared" without him realizing.
Ramiro's hand quivered as it positioned itself in front of the port. But, in a few seconds, Ramiro, an 11 year old hybrid kid stuck living his life in the good-for-nothing Hybrid District, would be considered one of Alden's biggest criminals.
And it wouldn't be the last time.