The Red Solo Cup

The red cup was there, in the frayed wire over the bridge. The bridge on main and 6th used to be filled with red cups, spelling out “I love dad” or “Anna will you go to prom with me”. Today, the solo red cup meant something quite different. I had to be careful, seeing it was one thing; acting on it brought dire consequences.

I had first heard about the cup two years ago, or at least I think it was two years ago. When the sun doesn’t fully set or pure darkness overtakes the island, it’s hard to keep track of time. Clocks? Watches? Calendars? When you are given the choice of paying for food rations with your clocks, watches, calendars, planners etc. you pick food for your family and mistakenly think you’ll be able to keep track of time.

But there, in the middle of our current time sequence was that red solo cup. I thought it was just a legend, a story trying to inspire hope. I would not have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.

I used to wish my wife could see the most amazing sunset, or a ravishing waterfall; today I wish she was around to simply see this single red cup. I clung to the small heart locket necklace in my pocket, her locket and silently told her that this cup meant there was hope, justice for what they had done to her.

I put my head down and kept working. I had to clear land. If the guards caught even a glimpse of something out of the ordinary, a stare that lasted too long, sitting down, smiling; all ensured that some form of new torture would be created, just for you.

Legend was that the cup came out once a year. No one knew exactly when or who put it there. Just that it had showed up once before and within 24 hours 25 people were gone, disappeared into thin air. The guards were not happy and made us stand in the snow for hours on end, until too many of us left passed out or lost limbs to frost bite. They didn’t have us stop our of sympathy, but out of necessity. Without us, who would clear the ground? They needed the ground cleared, for what was coming. Those 25 were the lucky ones, they believed the legend and saw the cup, I hadn’t had that luxury a year ago; but today it was my turn to see that beautiful red solo cup.

The road bridging Canada and the island were closed, and all ferries were monitored. We were easy to control, all food had to be brought in by boat or plane. The Colony had brought in their own hunters to clear out any wildlife; to ensure we couldn’t get “resourceful”. They knew that we couldn’t leave.

The Cup. It was a risk, it could be a set-up; no one was certain. But the risk, the thought of leaving this God forsaken place, was worth it. No more clearing land and then being strapped to a chair, having one eye glued open…yes only one. This way when your other eye tries to compensate it produces a migraine so bad that you want to pass out; never actually being able to sleep or find rest. They say we’re “chosen” to help them understand how much a human body can actually happen. Unfortunately, I can handle more than my wife could.

The risk, it was worth it. Somehow, tonight (hopefully I could figure out when that was) I would make my way to the bridge to find Liberty.