A.P.P.

I’m an App. Really, it’s A.P.P. - stands for aqua partum puero. It’s Latin for water delivery boy. Why Latin, I have no idea. I’m sure there’s a reason buried in our history. And nevermind that I’m a girl. Being an App, I’m barely noticed at all, so no one will notice I’m a girl.

Still, that’s my job. I deliver water to the rich. But not for long. I have a plan. I’m going to leave. Well, run away, really.

The whole thing is messed up though. Somehow, the rich people are really dumb. I’m not trying to be mean, it’s the truth. They aren’t smart. My whole job exists because they think water is dangerous. 

It’s hard to explain, mainly because I don’t totally understand it. But the rich people? They think that if they touch water, bad things happen. Like, first it burns them, then there’s some kind of curse on them and they’ll be cast out and be poor and actually have to work and be a decent human being.

I know I sound a little harsh, but they treat me like garbage. And even though they have the money, like I said, they are not smart. Water doesn’t burn you or curse you. 

But to make their ideas about water even more ridiculous, even though they think it will mar them terribly and force them to be forbidden from their precious social circles, they also know their bodies need it to survive. They know they need to drink at least some water to live.

I guess, for a while, they tried to go entirely without water. Like only drank wines and juices. Which, I know those have water in them too. Again, the theories these people come up with are made only to suit their needs, not to adhere to any truth or laws of science. 

Anyway, when they tried to survive without water, they realized that they couldn’t. Their bodies didn’t function properly and people were dying super young.

The person who spoke some sense into them was a doctor. Doctors aren’t consulted often and aren’t paid well for their services, but they are smart. This doctor was able to help the rich realize that the poor were outliving them because they drank water.

The doctor did also try to explain the the poor smell better than them because they bathe, but that was a step too far. While the rich were willing to accept that they needed to drink some water to live, they couldn’t believe that water on their skin could be a good idea. I guess they think the inside of their bodies are somehow resistant to the burn and curse of water. But on their skin or hair - no way.

Which means the rich part of town stinks. I’m not even kidding. There’s a distinct smell that lingers in their homes and all around their properties because these people refuse to bathe with water. The smell is a pungent mix of body odor and sweat combined with sweet florals and earthy undertones. It’s horrible. I try to only breathe through my mouth when I’m there. I don’t know how they stand it.

Plus, no running water in their homes means outhouses for bathrooms, which adds a whole other layer of stink.

And no running water means they don’t cook their own meals. I mean, sure they have microwaves for some stuff, and they’ll eat snacks foods that don’t need to be cooked. Everything else, they have delivered or eat at a restaurant. Sometimes I wonder how they can afford such luxury, then I remember: they’re rich.

Where was I? Oh, right. So once they realized they need water to live but still didn’t want to touch it, they designed a new job for kids like me: App.

Each App is assigned certain households and we bring them water to drink every day. 

I have a total of 12 houses on my route. That’s a pretty standard route for most Apps. I deliver to 4 before school and the other 8 after school. I wish I could get it all done in one swoop, rather than have to visit Stinkville twice every day. But, of course, it’s not so simple.

I said we deliver the water to them, but it’s not really a delivery where you just drop the water for the day and leave. They are so superstitious about water that they put a straw into the water bottle and I have to stand there holding the bottle while they drink from them through a straw.

Most adults chug the water down as quickly as they can, so the visit still goes quickly. They groan when they see me, or roll their eyes, or both. But they know I can’t leave until each bottle I’ve brought for their home has been emptied. The reusable bottles are marked for each individual and have sensors that send data via Wi-Fi. The sensors know if the water is emptied too quickly, like if I were to dump it out and not visit a home. The sensors also have location tracking so they can confirm the water was consumed in the correct household.

Even though my job is ridiculous and the rich people I serve are the worst - it’s rare I get a look my way, even less often any words spoken to me and I can count on one hand the number of times any have smiled at me - it’s pretty easy. It would be a lot worse if the bottles didn’t have the sensors. I’ve heard horror stories from those days.

But one of my afternoon stops, is not so easy. They have two little kids. Charley, she actually loves drinking her water. Her mother always looks at her in disgust, like her child is a monster for enjoying a fresh drink of water. Whenever her mother isn’t looking, I smile at Charley and whisper, “It’s good, right?” And Charley will nod with the straw in her mouth as she slurps.

Charley’s little brother Dirk is another story. More than one he’s slapped the water out of my hand, causing some to spill. I always hustle to pick the bottle up so the sensors aren’t alerted or the data thrown off too muc, but the mother always scowls and yells at me. Somehow, she makes it my fault that her brat knocked over the water and made it spill. I don’t know why she’s so upset: the reprimand she’ll get is nothing compared to the punishment I’ll get if my data trends negatively.

Remember how I said I’m leaving? Today is the day. And Charley is coming with me. She’s asked me more than once if I have more water and I felt terrible having to tell her no. She’s even tried to follow me out the door, telling me she likes me and I smell nice. I can’t stand for her to be living in such filth, without access to water because her parents are so ignorant.

So today, I’m hitting the road and I’m taking Charley with me. Her house is my final stop of the day, so it will be easy.

I knock on the door and Charley’s mom swings it open, Dirk on her hip.

I give a curt nod and reach into my bag for Dirk’s water. I hold it for him and he drinks slowly, with some impatient coaxing from his mom, but without major incident.

Then I hold out the bottle for the mom and she drinks primly from the straw, taking her sweet time while she pages through a magazine.

“Charley!” She shouts when she’s finished her bottle of water.

Charley skips into the room and waves at me. Her mother rolls her eyes, hoists Dirk back onto her hip and heads to the back of the house. I hear the screen door slam shut behind them as they go out into the back yard.

“Charley?” I whisper. “Want to come with me today?”

Charley’s eyes light up. She nods, still slurping water through the straw.

“You can’t come back though, ok?”

She gives me a concerned look. 

“I’ll be with you though. And there will be so much water.” She smiles, the excitement back in her eyes. “You can drink it and take a bath and splash in it and cook with it!”

Charley finishes her bottles of water and wipes her mouth on her forearm. She smiles at me expectantly.

“Wanna go?” I whisper.

“Yes.” She whispers back, picking her stuffed bunny up off the floor.

I take her hand and we walk out the front door.