The Hottest Day of the Summer

CW: Includes strong language, themes of death and grief.

MC opened their eyes groggily as the world slowly faded in and his dreams faded out. With a groan, he closed his eyes again, rolled over, and covered his head with the pillow. He closed his eyes tighter, wishing he could fall asleep and skip the day. After another ten minutes of trying to hide from the sunlight that was already bathing the the room in a hot glow - a sign that it was already mid-day - MC peeled the thin sheet off and rolled to the edge of his bed.

Sweat was already dripping down his head; his shoulders gleamed due to the heat that had not let up in over a week. Truthfully, the heat had been unbearable for almost 10 years, since the Earth Restoration Agency officially lost funding and declared the environment past the point of saving, but this last week had been relentless. MC stood, stumbling slightly as his balance woke up with him, and kicked the small metal box along the floor. A metallic crunching screeched through the room as it sputtered back to life, and a barely cooler breeze lightly wafted into the room. He sighed and kicked it again as he wiped the sweat from his brow and dragged his hand down his face.

He left his room, waving a hand in front of the door to open it, then waving it closed behind him. The small shack he called home was little more than a large metal square, split into 5 small rooms. The kitchen was tucked into the far corner, with a thin chrome fridge and rusted single-slot cooker. Two metal, shoulder-high panels cornered the kitchen in, separating it from the living and eating spaces. Each of those rooms were no more than 6ft on any side. A small table took most of the space in the eating area, leaving hardly any room for the single chair tucked along the side. The living room was cluttered with broken and recycled tech - holoprojectors that no longer light up, bio-scan locks with corrupt scanners, and spare scrap from cybernetic augments MC "salvaged" from HOPE Corp trucks. He long ago stopped sneering at the scrap, and now disregarded them entirely as he tapped the digital panel set into the wall. Dim lights flickered on from the ceiling.

*bzzzzz*

MC's attention turned to his phone, buzzing atop one of the chrome panel walls. Blue translucent light flashed a few times before a spotty holographic figure appeared under a metal dome plugged into the ceiling.

"You have seven missed calls and more than a dozen new texts," spoke the vague, featureless woman. She inclined her head slightly and gestured with her arms as she spoke. The holo flickered and she was standing straight again.

There was a pause, then, "It seems that, mostly, your friends, and some community members, are concerned about your appearance at the event today."

"That's nice," MC responded dryly, not even affording the AI a glance. He was pouring himself a bowl of oats, then hooked up his water purifier to the faucet and ran it. The purifier filled with a brownish liquid that resembled rum, but the water that came out the other side was a mark clearer.

"Would you like me to send out an-rzzt--" The hologram blinked out.

MC scoffed. "Duster."

It glimmered back, this time without its lower half. "Would you like me to send out any replies?"

"No." His voice was terse, his lips returning to a tight, flat line after he spoke.

"Are you sure? They might wor--"

"I said NO!" He slammed his bowl and a small glob of thick oats jumped the brim, splattering on the counter. His head fell between his shoulders, which rose and fell slowly as he took a calming breath. "Off, please."

"Are you sure? I'm able to help wi--"

"OFF!"

The hologram winked out, this time staying out.

MC cleaned the oats off the counter, then scarfed down the rest. With a pained grimace, he dragged himself to get ready.

As he swept his front door shut and pocketed his purifier, MC was met with the same explosive blast of heat and barren landscape he'd become used to. He lived in the furthest housing row, which meant a longer walk for everything, but a view no one else had: broken concrete roughly outlined a road that was only ever used for corporate cargo that came through. Beyond that were fields of brown, hard grass that extended for miles with patches of desert, scattered where the soil had lost its last nutrients long ago. There were still trees, but they were slumped or hollow, scorched by the sun. Worse, though - by far - was the view of New Genesis. Separated as much by distance as by way of life, the city's tall buildings could be seen on the horizon, their bright lights wavering through the heat. Those would be impressive, if not for the much larger tube that spired into the sky, lined by glowing rings that followed the transport as it ascended to Armstrong Orbital Gate.

Those who had high enough positions in the city, and those who graduated from the Future Foundation, were carried to the satellite station where they would live whilst awaiting the announcement that Human Outer Planet Exploration Corp finished the deep-space cruiser that would carry them into far parts of the galaxy, towards a hopeful new home.

It was nearly 6 years ago that HOPE Corp announced a relief program that would bring gallons of water to the outpost towns via portable silos. Theirs arrived in the second wave, flown in by two choppers with tethers carrying the silo below them. At first, it was more than any of them had expected: clean, fresh drinking water, clean showers, and the idea to start a garden had raised morale in the town noticeably. Only one person, Vector, an old mechanic, was resistant to the idea. He preached to anyone who could hear that the silo was unsafe, that the bolts weren't tight enough and that the welds wouldn't hold against the weight of all that water.

When HOPE Corp brought a second silo, and removed the first, Vector pressed the subject to them directly.

"We're not the engineers, so we can't answer any in depth questions, but rest assured that these have been built by our best and passed all of our security tests."

Vector waved away the rehearsed response, and kept pressing. Irritation grew on the faces of the HOPE Corp team, and even neighbors started trying to defuse the situation, pleading with Vector to let it go and accept a good thing. As the corp-choppers took to the air though, one of the suits tapped under their ear, where their comm-interface implant was housed, their eyes glazing over in white as they joined a call.

A few days passed, and Vector went missing, though his belongings remained untouched in his home. He would become the first victim of this "relief."

Not long after, the silos broke, exploding as the exterior first cracked along a weld line, then blasted apart. The water rushed in powerful waves, crashing against the nearest row of cubicle homes and destroying them. The next two rows of housing suffered similarly, while the rest of the town lost food and other belongings to flooding. HOPE Corp said it was due to the rising, unpredictable and unprecedented temperatures; it did happen, after all, on the hottest day of the year. But they didn't send a crew to help with the bodies, nor did they send another silo to replace the damaged one. They only came when it was time to collect the now-spare metal materials left behind by the homes to bring back to New Genesis.

The community came together during those following weeks. People started learning each other's names, just as they were learning the names of those lost, and neighbor stood by neighbor as they dug into the hard earth. When it was all done, everyone came together for a community funeral, and they mourned together. That was the first Hottest Day of the Summer remembrance.

MC spit, then turned his eyes away from the glowing city. Now that he could see the sun, he saw that it was actually well past mid-day, yet even with all but his face covered, he could feel the oppressive sear of the sun. He turned quickly to head to the end of his housing row, where her could head towards the center of town, where the misters would make the outdoors bearable.

Other's were coming out, too, all of them forming a line in front of the repeated cubicles they lived in. Most hustled together, quickly recognizing neighbor, friend, and family. Everyone was in high spirits today; some carried small dishes, while others carried photos and gifts that they were eager to share. MC followed the crowd, but kept himself a step separated from any of the groups coming together.

"Hey pendejo, might answer a call here and there." MC was shoved hard from behind. Despite how concealed he was, it took almost no time for Dox to find him. "Almost asked Demi to borrow the rig, 'n head to 'Genny to make sure you didn't get in trouble."

"If I went to 'Genny, it'd be because they were in trouble, not me." MC replied grimly.

"Fuckin' chulo, saying shit like that is why I worry. You never lived there, you don't know." Dox - which wasn't his real name, but what he wanted to be called - was shaking his head.

"I know enough."

Dox grasped MC's shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. "You don't know shit, and that's okay. Everyone here loves you, and that means something. You ever go to that city looking for trouble, you're a duster. Comprende?"

MC's eyes are daggers, the same anger in them as when he leers at Genesis City. His jaw clenches off and on, you can see his temples and jawline twitch. He doesn't look away though, and finally lets out a long exhale through his nose and looks down. "Yeah, I know."

"Good." Dox frees MC and looks at his empty arms. He pursed his lips. "Aye, you really gotta bring something this time. Last year you only got away with it because Maria let you. I'm not so sure that'll go this year. We're all struggling, but everyone else is pitching in."

A twinge of guilt panged in his face, but he shrugged it away. "It's fine, I don't plan on being around long enough to eat with anyone."

Dox rolled his eyes, but let it pass. With Dox with him now, more people came and said hello. Mostly, Dox handled the interactions, smiling at everyone who passed and initiating an excited hello with anyone who made eye contact. After the misters had some time to cool him, even MC started relaxing and chatting lightly with neighbors those he knew.

"Oh, hey, it's Camila." Dox leads them to where Camila stood, her own dark hair also covered in a scarf. "Please tell me you made your family's flan recipe."

She soured at him. "Oh yeah? Did you bring the ingredients to me with your own hands, eh? Did you drive to the city and somehow buy me groceries without getting thrown out or arrested? No?"

"Ayy, ayy," Dox groaned "It was just a joke chica. No need to call me a criminal."

"Don't act like a criminal, and I won't call you a criminal."

Dox turned to MC, eyes wide, pleading for help. A small smirk pulled at MC's mouth, and before he could straighten it, Dox saw. "Heyy, maybe you should call me a criminal, eh? MC seems to like it."

"Yes yes," she says in a quick, choppy tone. She looked at MC now. "A smile for the first time in forever."

MC felt his cheeks almost pull into another smile, but he forced them still.

"No, why do you hide it like you did something wrong?" She opened her mouth to continue, but stopped as she saw the look on his face. She turned back to Dox. "Don't ask stupid questions."

They walked the rest of the short distance to where everyone was gathered, to the corner of their housing grid that had broken of, where the silo had burst and people had died. Chairs were set up parallel to the misters, with tables just on the other side. Food was shared openly, despite the fact that even collectively, this would hardly be considered a feast. Still, people smiled and laughed as they traded dishes.

Dox and Camila led the way into the fray, but MC hung back. His eyes were stuck looking behind the gathering, to the field of small signs sticking out of the ground. After 6 years, finding her exact sign was automatic. Any trace of the smile he had was gone now. He was no longer acknowledging the passing-by hellos and ignored his friends when they asked what he wanted to eat.

"Hey, hey!" Camila snapped, then looked at him with deep empathy in her eyes. He only looked back for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"Nah, I'm not hungry... Actually, guys," he said quietly, suddenly realizing that more people had joined their circle. "I'm gonna go. I'll talk to you later." He stood up, but rather than heading back towards his cubicle, he walked past everyone, taking a canister of water with him towards the signs.

He wasn't the first one there; two others sat on the ground by the signs of their lost loved ones, too. From his back pocket, he pulled out a purifier and attached it to the canister. As he did every year since the night he lost her, he poured the container out, then sat hugging his knees, hanging his head.

He was there until it got dark, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, expecting Dox or Camila. He let out a slow breath when he saw Maria. She leaned on him, using him for balance while she unfolded a chair with the other hand and sat down with him.

"How's it goin' ol' boy?" Her voice was gentle, but keen.

MC sighed. "Well, ya know."

She nodded. "I do."

MC laughed, and his voice broke simultaneously. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know," he took another deep breath and wiped his face on his shoulder. "It's not just me who lost someone. Sorry."

Maria waved it away. "It's okay. Grief is some pretty blinding pain, makes itself the only thing you can see."

He nodded. "Yeah, well... It'd be easier if there wasn't a glowing reminder of it literally outside my door."

She clicked her tongue. "Mhmm. Well. Nothin' you can do about that, though." She peered over at him, fixing her gaze very directly on him. "So you can't let that stop you from gettin' on. You got a whole life to get to."

He scoffed, and threw his arms up, gesturing around them. "This? This is life? Look at that!" He sprung to his feet, one hand extended towards the beacon on the horizon. With the sky dark, you could see that the transport was nearly at it's destination, and with the night's clear sky, you could see Armstrong Orbital Station itself, lit up from space. He looked up, as if he was looking at someone through the Station's glass, as if they could feel his glare. "That is a constant reminder of how THIS," he spun, gesturing to the barren landscape and pitiful cubicles, and to the graveyard. "This is nothing." He looked at the sky again. "It's a smug fucking grin after they've already won, after they've killed our people, taken our work, taken our resources, and left us to die."

Faces had turned towards him, and now MC noticed them in the dim light of dust-coated, blinking fluorescent lights and scattered campfires. What he hadn't noticed was how close they were now. Most people had ventured to the graveyard as the night went on, finding their own signs to remember.

"I know I'm not supposed to hate..." MC continued, quieter. "That I'm supposed to forgive, so I can move on. But--"

"QUE OS JODAN, PEDAZOS DE MIERDA!" Dox marched out of the crowd, eyes towards the sky. He brushed past MC and walked to the edge of the graveyard, extending two middle fingers into the air. "Fuck that," he said, turning back towards MC. "Those putas don't deserve shit." He stepped closer to MC, breathing heavy with his own anger. "But that's my point!" He shoves MC in the chest as emphasis. "We ALL hate them." MC saw tears welling in his eyes. "All of US. Huh?!" He yelled at the people behind them. A roar broke out, and suddenly everyone was yelling. MC jumped from the sound, then turned around. Everyone, even Maria, was on their feet, yelling obscenities at the sky, their fingers raised as high as they could go.

MC smiled as a tear fell down his face. Maria paused her yelling, and patted his cheek, smiling as she watched the realization hit him. "Hate is part of life, too. So hate them. We all know they deserve it," she nods her head. "But when you hate, hate with us. We know and feel your hate." She smiled. "But don't forget there's still more to love."

She let go and stepped back carefully, before yelling at the sky. MC turned, and he yelled too. They sang a chorus of hate and anger, and also of grief and pain, and of community and love. There was whooping and raw screaming as the energy inflated, and they yelled until their voices were hoarse. That night, MC stayed in the graveyard until he fell asleep, along with the others around him.