27 dropped a formless lump back into her soup with a resigned plop. How many more days will they keep serving the same borscht? The beets, carrots, and cabbage were so mushy she couldn’t tell them apart. Her bowl had some pieces of meat the other day; today, she couldn’t find any.
She gave up her search for meat and looked around at the nearly silent cafeteria. A looming blackboard stood near the kitchen counter, dictating the order that rations were distributed. Once again, Yellow Group was written at the top. The three oldest subjects sat at a distant corner table. They were served first and had healthy portions of borscht, thick slices of black bread with a generous spread of salo, cups of bubbly soda water, and what looked like small pickles. 27 regarded her own tray; the chipped enamel showed the dark tin where she imagined her own pickles could have been. Her dented cup didn’t fizzle like theirs and her black bread was smaller by half.
She picked up her slice of rye and turned it so the thin film of black currant jam glistened in the light. Her tail curled as the tart sweetness rolled across her tongue. The drills were so hard today, but Melnyk didn’t yell at me at all. I can’t believe I actually got the bonus card. Next to her, 26 scooped a large transparent clump from her borscht and chewed it mechanically. A red deferral card sat next to her bowl, replacing what should have been her slice of bread. 26, who had stared fixedly at her own tray since she sat down, looked up at the sudden motion. 27’s face flushed and she quickly swallowed her treat.
A small girl walked past, carefully balancing her tray. 27 turned away from 26’s gaze, instead keeping her eyes on the girl as she approached a crowded table. Before she could sit down, a hand reached over and plucked the bread from her tray. It was quickly passed around the table and picked apart. The largest pieces were only slightly bigger than a pill and were consumed in a flash. The little girl watched silently, not making any move to retrieve it from the others. Their sergeant with his black armband passed behind her, glancing at the group without pausing. The girl eventually sat down and ate her soup, her ears twitching with unspoken thoughts.
27 looked at the last bite of her bread. Eat what you’re served; that’s what they usually say. She had tried to pass her sauerkraut to 25 once. Her stomach lurched as she remembered being made to do push ups in front of the whole cafeteria. She looked back at 26, weighing the remnants of her treat in her hand. Will Melnyk be mad if I share bonus treats?
“You should hurry, 27. You’re on cleaning duty today.” 26 spoke in a resigned voice. She didn’t look at what 27 was holding as she returned to scraping her bowl. 27 popped the bread into her mouth and hastily finished her own soup.