The Fallen

As dusk settled, the sky overhead turned for an agonizing moment an ordinary pale red. Sufi gently pried his sleeping roll from his hands and extended it side-by-side adjacent to his own place.

Stold noted the closer than strictly socially acceptable position, but it left additional space between them and the strangers bracketing them on all sides. Stold found this compromise admissible, so did not mention it.

The arena darkened. Individuals began to sit, or recline, allowing Stold a better view of the surrounds. How, incredulously, still more filed in. To the north side, red-uniformed humans directed additional individuals into the seats surrounding the arena. Stold did not know if he envied or pitied these; they would have a better vantage over how many lived in this inhospitable location.

"Have they set up the replicators yet?" Sufi asked from the ground.

At each cardinal direction, where the main entrances to the grass-covered field lay, teams of engineers worked with the bustling of an angry hive.

"I do not assume so."

"I wish I had not skipped my breakfast meal," he admitted.

An elder, three beds down, murmured something. He rummaged in a satchel, plucking out several foil wrapped parcels.

"Pass these to the children," he said, shaking hands reaching only as far as the roll next to him.

Stold did not miss the naked longing in the young woman's eyes, but she did as she was bid.

Nine bars of emergency rations reached Sufi's hands.

Stold noted a blue stripe along one side. Medical rations.

"I can not take these, Elder."

"I will not eat when the generation below me goes without. Do as you wish with them."

Sufi handed one to Stold, who quickly skimmed the label. He nodded, handing it back. Not medicated, simply a specific sugar balance and calcium supplement.

"Thank you, Elder."

The man grunted, closed his eyes, and fell into deep meditation.

Sufi raised the bar again to his classmate. He accepted it, silently passing it back to the young woman, who nodded her thanks. Another appeared in his hands.

Each stared at the medical blue stripe.

Stold picked a corner of the foil away, exposing the amalgamated grain, fruit, and minerals.

Sufi and the unknown woman did the same after several long moments. Splitting the foil to expose the nutrient bar without touching it.

Centuries of social expectation screamed within Stold's mind. His eyes wandered left and right. Surely, if he were creative enough, he could find a dish, fork and knife, so that he could eat.

He met Sufi's eyes over his own bar.

"We might not have utensils, but we can still have decorum," the woman said, understanding the complication.

Their eyes went to her, seeking an example. Studied her downcast gaze, carefully curled fingertips tucked under plastic. Both turning away as her mouth reached towards the still very exposed digits.

"Closed eyes," Sufi suggested. Stold nodded agreement.

In the morning, they discovered the Elder passed away.

They never learned his name.