The Human Race

 Running water and clanking of plates cut through the morning tension. “Finish your oatmeal Martim. All of it!” Martim's mother, Camilla, said from the kitchen.

 She walked to the calendar on the fridge and circled the 15th, trailed by red X's. The clacking of dress shoes shuffling down the steps made Martim look up from his bowl. 

“Kate is almost ready, what’s with the sad face Camila?” His father, Antonio, said. “This is a cakewalk for him, you know this. Stop worrying, Martim getting last place is impossible.” 

“Any parent would be concerned, let me be,” she said while putting a plate in the sink. 

Antonio rested his hand on Martim's shoulder, “Just do you kiddo; forget about me, your mother, and the other runners, go out and be great like always. Rumor is that some council members are showing up, so this would be the year to beat your record. But just worry about not finishing last.”

Martim gave his father a thumbs-up as he worked down a mouth full of oatmeal. The Santos family raised a national treasure, their son Martim was a ‘diamond in the rough’. By the age of seven, he was outrunning older kids. Now, at fifteen no one could stop him or look him in the eyes. 

The weather was oozing victory along with clear skies. It never rained on the day of the event. Rain fell the day before or the day after. Birds chirped while squirrels pounced about. Men got off work the day before, after training, and tending to wrecked AI bots all day. Women closed their laptops after a grueling week of programming for the advancement of AI camps. Kids had the day off yesterday and gossiped about today’s event and the state of the war. 

  The war did a number on the quality of life and the existence of the human race. Broken families, death, and more death. But after this year's count, the colony finally reached 204 members. According to older folks, when the war eased up, a group known as the runaways plotted for years before executing their escape. Mars was the destination after a fleet of humans had already set up there. But not everyone had luck on their side, bots captured some that tried to escape. It’s rumored that a foreign species aids humans on Mars, which is why the colony members have worked harder and longer in recent years. But not everyone on earth cared for the war and danced with joy at the thought of freedom. Many loved the yearly “Human Race”. Some loved it so much that they offered to fight against, “those traitors on Mars.” 

 The Human Race required every family to submit their boys from 13 to 17, for a 100m race around a high school track. It weeded out the weaklings of the colony and made sure the boys were in shape to join the war, just in case those on Mars gained an upper hand. Using the boys to fight was the bot’s trump card. It was a sadistic chess move. Younger kids appeared at the event first; the excitement of a day without nagging teachers and decrepit textbooks brought them delight. Martim's sister, Kate, rushed out of the house without saying a word. She knew her brother was a yearly winner, getting to the event early and taunting the other kids was a treat sweeter than victory. Her minions, Lisa, and Bridgette accompanied her.

The year before, Kate teased the Parkers after their son got last place. The poor kid blew snot bubbles for a minute straight after the race. This year she had her eyes on Angus Reid; The lanky kid with a ginger fro and hunched back. You could blow on him and he would fall over. “Don’t you come in last place Angus,” she giggled from the bleachers. Angus was early to the event; his parents hugged him and wiped tears from his eyes. They knew their son stood no chance, so they wanted to get it over with. No God could help Angus win this race. 

 More kids flooded the entrance; Some with little snacks and signs. The majority of the signs were in support of Martim. Most arrived for him. Martim stepped onto the dirt road and leaned back, protruding his hip forward. A nice stretch before he massacred his opponents. His parents walked alongside him, trying to pep him up. He tuned them out as usual and waved at the swarming fans on the dirt road. 

“Another year, another win Martim,” shouted Mr. Randle on the other side of the road. Mr. Randle was the census enumerator. House to house he went; on the first day of the new year to count each household member,  making sure ALL boys were accounted for. Happiness radiated from his eyes while strolling down the street in his wheelchair. Mr. Randle did not care to be freed and join the other humans on Mars, this race was everything he needed for however much time he had left. His older brother, Dennis Randle, was one of the founders of the Human Race. Dennis died fifteen years ago from a heat stroke. Ever since then, everyone from the colony lathered up with cooling gel. Someone tapped on Martim's shoulder. “I think you beat your record today,” a teen girl said. Jess, the daughter of the colony’s president, had a crush on Martim, but he didn’t care for love or silly games. His attraction was getting that 1st place medallion. The president of the colony fell ill, so Jess represented him. Pam the baker handed Martim's mother a muffin. “This is for the beautiful soul that birthed a star.” She said, Camila gave her a side hug and fabricated a smile so Pam could walk away. Camila knew how great of an athlete her son was, but that still didn’t stop her from thinking of the worst. He could twist an ankle, pull a hamstring, or throw up mid-race. She thought of all the worst outcomes that would land him in last place. A spot no one wanted to be. The Santos’s arrived at the entrance where two bots dressed in suits waited. 

“Heel check.” A bot said as it scanned Camila’s foot. The bots stepped to the side, “Runners to the left, family and staff to the right,” they said in unison. The bot with the dent in its face glitched every other word. The war had its way with that one. Camila and Antonio embraced Martim before following the arrows that led to the bleachers. The stadium was almost full; sugar rushes finally wore down and kids took a seat. Families conversed amongst each other and a staff of bots handed out refreshments. Meanwhile, Martim laced up his new running sneakers. He made sure to break-them-in a few days in advance. Some of the runners joked and poked, while others sat alone in sorrow. Like Angus Reid. “Why do we even have to race, we know who is losing in ten minutes.” Bradley Cosner said, eyeing Angus. Bradley was the second fastest boy in the colony, he and Martim were friendly rivals. Bradley was fast, but Martim always had him beat. “I’m going for my record today Bradley, so start thinking about next year,” Martim said. Bradley lifted his middle finger and walked away. Over the intercom, a robotic voice said, “All participants, you have 9 minutes.” 

A robotic magic show entertained the crowd, as the runners got ready in the tents. 

“Your son never ceases to amaze,” said William Hunter, “the bots sent over a few reps to check out the event. If your son can secure another win your family will be moved into the fancy housing units up North. As much as the colony loves your son, we'd rather him get out of this hell hole.” said William, while shaking Antonio’s hand.

Antonio didn’t know how to respond for the first few seconds, urgency seeped into his system. Better food, a pristine home with a robotic maid, is all Antonio could think about. “Thank you for letting me know Mr. Hunter, Ron won’t disappoint.” Mr. Hunter traveled up the bleachers where a row of council members sat in white suits. “Everyone stand for this year’s participants!” a voice from the intercom blared out of the surrounding speakers. The bleachers went into mayhem with cheers and the waving of signs. The runners made their way onto the track. Six boys stood no chance against Martim. He was the last to jog onto the field, screams got louder and the heels of all the women in attendance rattled the galvanized steel. Antonio and Camila smiled while waving like the President and first lady. Even the families of those participating accepted defeat early and cheered for Martim. On the field, the boys toyed with Angus. One of the runners shoved Angus into Martim “You stepped on my new sneakers, idiot!” Martim said. He shoulder-checked Angus and lined up in his lane. “As you all know, only one boy will be the loser of today's race, pray it’s not your son…” 

“Skip the intros and get straight to the race…we know who our loser is this year.” shouted a council member. “Racers please stand behind your blocks and, when I give the command 'On your mark,' come forward and get settled into your blocks without any delays.” The participants jogged in place and laughed at Angus, who was fixing his compression shorts. 

“They won’t need to dig too big of a hole,” Bradley snarked at Angus. “On your mark,” said the starter. Martim and the others stepped forward. Camila held her hands to her mouth, while Antonio pumped the crowd up. Martim fastened his feet on the starting blocks and knelt.

 “Ready” 

The boys rose up and the crowd went silent. A single revolver shot echoed through the air, and the runners took off. One by one they cut through the air like a knife, but Martim broke away. His pace was uncanny, he was going for a new record. The crowd popped with joy. Until. Martim found himself eating dirt. His shoelaces tripped him up. The crowd gasped as runners overtook Martim and shot through the finish line. Martim scurried to his feet and darted with urgency, he looked to his side and saw Angus. Both boys sprinted through the finish line. The wind whispered in the silence. “I made it right…I made it right!” Martim repeated. Camila’s mouth collected air as she awaited a decision. Three council members stepped onto the field and entered a red tent. The crowd mumbled amongst themselves. Antonio felt all the eyes peering at him and his family, he held his breath. Kate crashed into his arms and soaked his dress pants with tears.

“You loosened my shoelaces when you stepped on them, you…cheated,” said Martim. Bradley and the other boys stopped Martim from charging at Angus. Poor Angus vomited on the side, while his parents wept. “I see what’s going on, you're in on this. All of you are in on this. Bradley you sick asshole. You…” Static from the speaker made Martim shut up. “After reviewing the video, Angus broke through the line first. The video was reviewed by many eyes. Martim Santos, you are this year's loser.” 

“No! You guys need to check again.” Camila shrieked as tears strolled down her face. The chipper crowd from earlier was now somber and lifeless. Angus’s family rushed onto the field to embrace their lucky son. Martim grabbed the shirt of an official, “He cheated, he stepped on my shoes before the race started, that’s why my laces were loose. Angus Reid is the loser; not me!” “I know everyone here loves Martim, but the rules are the rules. We can’t change them for our favorites. When we started the colony, honesty and fairness were at the forefront. 6 winners 1 loser, nothing more nothing less. Martim we are sorry, it’s unfortunate.” Said an official.  Mr. Randle covered his eyes with his hat; A few others followed. Two bots grabbed Martim's arms and carried him to the center of the field. A rumble from the bleachers garnered the attention of the runners. A horde of women stormed the field. Heels stabbed the turf as they approached Martim. Antonio shielded Kate and Camila’s eyes from the horror, as Martim squealed from all the heels piercing his skin.