"Coral Raine!" A familiar voice shrieked. I sighed knowing my brief time of freedom was over. "Yes, mother?"

"I need you to walk to city hall and pick up our application paperwork. Get an extra copy for Mrs. Summers across the street. She is getting to old to always be walking around in this heat; it is hazardous to her health."

"Would you like me to stop at the market on the way back?" I called over my shoulder as I opened the door to leave the house.

"No, that isn't necessary. Thank you."

Things didn't always used to be like this or so I've been told. Mrs. Summers, our elderly neighbor, tells stories about her childhood. She says that before the Great War there were many different nations. The Great War was brutal and wiped out entire countries. Most of the world wasn't habitable anymore. Nuclear missiles were used by multiple countries resulting in over three billion deaths. However when the Treaty of Frieden was signed, we all became one nation called Revere. Now those of us that remain live in what used to be the continent of North America.

Overtime two social classes emerged. The scientific elite are the most brilliant minds in Revere. They are advisors to the King and have the best jobs. The other social class consists of anyone not smart enough or rich enough for the elitists. This social class is called the srats. I suppose the elitists thought they were being clever; I once heard one say we were just street rats so they combined the words and got srats.

My family falls into the latter of the two classes. After my father was killed by the plague, my family had to move to a small apartment in the outskirts of town because we could no longer afford our tiny house near the market. Now it was just my mom, my little sister Joy, and I. Lillian, my older sister chose to join the scientific elite and had abandoned her family in favor of money and fame. I hadn't seen her since the day three years ago when she left and swore to never return.

As I neared city hall which is the nicest building in this part of town, it got more crowded. Despite our advanced technology, only the elite ever got the nicest technology and inventions. Towns mostly populated by Srats looked more like a picture from a history textbook during a time called the Great Depression. City Hall is a white building with pristine glass windows. There is a side building made of bricks which is where applications are being distributed.

Everyone wanted a spot in one of the isolation communities. No one knew where they were at or what the criteria was to get in, but everyone wanted a chance at escaping the plague.

I walked up to the application table, and was greeted by a mechanized voice.

"How many applications?" I was asked in a monotone voice. "Four please." The metal arm slowly slid them across the table to me. "Next please."

I left the small crowded building shaking my head in dismay. Typical elitists, having an old robot model do a job a person in need of money could have done better and faster. That's the thing about elitists, they only care about themselves. They don't think about the lower class as people, but rather as a necessary workforce to ensure their continued life of luxury. Before going home, I decided to stop by the market. As always, it was crowded and I was instantly bombarded by offers on all sides.

"Jewelry! Get your handmade jewelry here!"

"Fresh baked goods! Get your homemade bread here!"

Suddenly, the application papers went flying as I ran into another person.

"Watch where you are going." He yelled as he caught me before I hit the ground.

"S-S-Sorry," I muttered as I caught a glimpse of his right hand while picking up the papers. There was a silver ring with an emerald surrounded by two small diamonds on each side. Engraved on the emerald is a beaker with a serpent curled around the base. He was an elitist. More specifically, he was a chemist. As soon as he noticed my eyes on his ring he panicked.

"Don't tell anyone I was here," he yelled over the noise of the crowd causing several inquiring looks to be sent our way. It is then that I noticed his strange attire. Despite appearing to be the same age as me at eighteen years old, he was covered in a hooded cloak. Most elitists his age often wear expensive clothes and parade around like an arrogant prince among his poorest subjects. Before I could assure him I had no reason to care about the whereabouts of someone like him, he turned around and left as quickly as he had appeared.

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