20 Milligrams of Pain

1

Apollo reclined into his chair, stretching his spine. It was eight hours after midday. He was alone in the office as he stood out of his chair, sighed, and snatched a prescription bottle off his desk. The little orange container held more evil than Apollo could ever imagine, but he wasn’t thinking about that–he just wanted to get home. He stepped onto the cold pavement, backpack over one shoulder, and his trembling left hand clutching the bottle. The pills rattled with each mindless step Apollo took. Right foot in front of the left other, then the left in front of the right. He wasn’t thinking about where he was going. He wasn’t thinking about what time it was. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. The human body of Apollo was a slave to the 20mg orbs in his left hand. He was almost home, just one block away, but he stopped. A soft voice drifted from the shadows.

“I have something for you.”

Apollo looked to his left and saw a shadowy figure pulled close to a wall. He approached slowly, revealing a man crouched in the darkness with a large bottle in his hands. He wore tattered clothes and had the crazy smile of a drug addict spread across of face. He was the kind of person Apollo despised–the street filth venturing over the concrete wall between sectors 5 and 6. These rats preyed on civilized men like Apollo. Despite all of this, Apollo’s eyes were fixated on what the man was selling. The junkie held a bottle of dark brown liquid, unlike anything Apollo had ever seen. It was fastened tightly by a cork and had no markings anywhere. The stranger took note of Apollo's interest and held up the bottle out in the light.

“Ah, you’re interested? This stuff… is magic.”

Apollo’s head tilted slightly as he inspected the liquid more closely.

“Alcohol. Banned a long while ago,” he paused, “they say it makes you feel like you can fly.”

Apollo was pulled out of his trance and made eye contact with the stranger.

“How’d someone like you get you’re greasy hands on something so elusive?”

A smile spread across the man’s face and he took a small step forward, meeting Apollo’s gaze.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that it could be yours, for the right price.”

“How much?”

“50 credits.”

Apollo took out his wallet and began thumbing through bills, mumbling as he counted out loud. He paused for a moment and looked at the paper in his hands. He was almost out of food and he was four days away from his next paycheck. He knew he should put the money away, call the police on the stranger, and go home, but his curiosity got the best of him. 

“You said it’ll make me feel like I can fly?”

The man nodded slowly, “so I’ve heard.”

Apollo handed the wad of bills to the man. He took the bottle and began to walk away briskly in one swift motion, but the stranger called out to him, “you didn’t tell me these were marked.”

Apollo stopped walking but was silent.

“That complicates things. It’s 100 now.”

Apollo turned back to face the man.

“You already sold it. You said 50.”

“No, I said 100 credits.”

Apollo spat on the ground in front of the stranger’s feet.

“That’s not how business works.”

The stranger started walking slowly out of the shadows. As he kept advancing, a streetlight reflected off something silver in his hand.

“You corpos don’t understand how business works down here on the street. Your marked bills aren’t worth much to me.”

The blade of a knife became more visible as the stranger stepped closer and extended his arm. Apollo took a step back, and pulled out his wallet again, quickly thumbing out another 50 credits. He shoved the wad of cash into the stranger’s palm and stepped back quickly. The stranger flashed a smile full of copper and stopped moving forward.

“Pleasure.”

Apollo turned and walked away quicker this time, but the voice called out softly again, “say a word about this… I’ll kill you.” 

Apollo broke into a jog and turned a sharp corner at the end of the block.

2

Apollo burst through the door of the apartment with his pills in one hand and the unmarked bottle in the other. Julius was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching the reel of nightly propaganda from the New Republic of America Media Corporation. Apollo slid his backpack off and walked to the kitchen. He set his pills and the bottle down on the counter with a soft clink. Julius snapped out of his television daze and looked at Apollo with a greeting smile, but it quickly faded into confusion.

“What’s that?”

Apollo bent down and stared at Julius through the translucent liquor. 

“Bought it from someone on the street.”

“But what is it?”

Apollo stood up straight and tapped his thumbs together, trying to recall the name, “uhh, the guy said it was…” he thought for a moment before snapping his fingers excitedly as it came to him, “alcohol! He said it’ll make you feel like you’re flying.”

Julius stood up suddenly, fear filling his eyes as he looked back and forth between Apollo and liquor, “Apollo… did you just say you bought a bottle of alcohol?”

“Yeah.”

Julius put his hands on the counter opposite Apollo and leaned forward.

“Apollo, what have you done?”

Apollo was silent.

“They banned this 150 years ago in this country.”

“Yeah, that’s what the guy told me.”

“You know why?”

Apollo shook his head slowly.

“People used to drink it and they’d feel things–like what that guy told you about flying… but then when they started giving out these,” Julius picked up Apollo's prescription bottle and shook it softly, rattling the contents, “they noticed the alcohol stopped them from working.”

He paused.

“So they outlawed it and started killing anyone caught with it–called it ‘Prohibition.’”

“How do you know all this?”

Julius looked up at Apollo, “I heard stories from my dad. He said he used to smuggle it here from Cuba in the 70s.”

“The one day…” Julius slid his thumb across his throat.

Silence fell in the apartment as the two roommates stared at the dark brown liquor. 

Apollo grabbed the bottle off the counter, “let’s drink it.”

Julius looked at Apollo in disbelief, “are you out of your mind? Did you not listen to a word I just said?”

“We’ve each got what, 100 years left on this planet? When are we ever gonna get this chance again?” 

“Won’t be 100 if we’re dead tomorrow”

Apollo shook his head.

“How will they ever know? Patrols are off next hour; we drink it tonight, ditch the bottle in the sewer, and no one will ever know what happened.”

Julius dropped his head into his hands.

“It’s not that simple. They’ll find out somehow, and they’ll kill us. I know you remember what happened last week.”

Julius was referring to six nights ago. Their next-door neighbor had smuggled in a dime bag of cocaine from the city outskirts. Apollo and Julius were asleep when they heard the cops kick down the neighbor’s door. There was a brief period of silence, followed by tortured screams while they interrogated the neighbor. No one in the apartment block slept the entire night.

Another moment of silence fell between Apollo and Julius. Apollo popped the cork off the bottle and brought it to his nose. The alcohol stung his nostrils as he put the bottle down on the counter and winced out of discomfort. Intrigued, Julius leaned forward until his face hovered over the bottle’s opening. He inhaled and the liquor met him with a foul, jet-fuel-like odor. He pulled his head back and examined the liquid closely. Now his curiosity got the better of him too. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a 1-credit coin.

“Heads, we throw it in the sewer, tails, we drink.”

Apollo thought for a moment before nodding his head and responding, “deal.”

Julius positioned the coin on the outside of his index finger, steadied his hand, and flicked. The coin went sailing into the air, spinning smoothly for a few moments before crashing back down and rattling across the countertop. The engraved seal of the New Republic of America pointed toward the ceiling. Tails. Apollo and Julius looked at the coin, at each other, and then at the bottle standing ominously on the table. Apollo pulled two glasses from the cabinet, set them down, and filled each one halfway with liquor. The roommates clinked their glasses together and tilted their heads back, draining the glasses in one motion, then wincing as the alcohol burned its way into their stomachs. 

Within a few seconds, the world around them started to change. The constant, droning headaches they had grown used to faded away completely, and the room was filled with new colors they didn’t know existed. It was like they were being lifted into a new dimension of reality. They were both pulled off their feet as the world began to spin. It was exactly what the stranger on the street had said. Vibrance, freedom, relaxation, and weightlessness–just like they were flying. 

3

About 15 fifteen minutes later, an alarm went off in the control room and lit up a small panel with a red glow–Sector 5, Apartment Block 6, Unit 328–the residence of Apollo and Julius. 

Housing in the city was numbered by wealth; sector one included the city center and harbor, had a higher police presence, and housed the city’s wealthiest–aristocrats, military personnel, and the president himself. Apollo and Julius lived in sector 5 of the 15 total sectors, informally known as the “final frontier.” As the sector numbers increased, the quality of living was supposed to gradually decline, but there was a clear drop-off between 5 and 6. Sector 5 was the last with frequent patrols, and there was a 40-foot concrete wall at the end of it. The last 10 neglected sectors housed most of the city’s population in crowded slums. Crumbling buildings, crime, drugs, and disease were some of the most notable qualities of the final 10 sectors.

The alarm was shut off, followed by a string of orders through a communication system.

“S5, A6, U328, code 623 violation.”

4

Apollo and Julius were in a surreal state as they each finished off a third glass of liquor. Their minds were free, no longer caged by their prescriptions. 

“What do you think’s out there, man?” Apollo asked, pressing his face against the window to look at the city skyline.

“What are you talking about?”

“Past the city, what do you think’s out there?”

Julius looked out the window from the kitchen and shook his head.

“No idea. Never even thought of it.”

Apollo turned to Julius.

“You think there are other places like this?”

“I’ve heard rumors about a world with thousands of free cities. They always told us it was a myth, but I don’t believe it.”

“I’d like to see for myself.”

Apollo paused for a moment to think before continuing, “last time I thought about leaving this place I was 12. Started taking my pills when I turned 13 and the thought never crossed my mind again.”

He stood up on wobbly legs and walked to the kitchen counter, inspecting the remaining liquor.

“I don’t ever want this to end.”

Julius leaned against the wall and looked at the ceiling, “Me neither.”

Apollo nodded as he poured out the rest of the bottle evenly between the two glasses. Once again, they raised their glasses and brought them together.

“I want to be free forever,” Apollo said before swallowing the last of his liquor.

At that moment, the apartment shuddered and the front door collapsed inward. A team of soldiers stormed, rifles raised to eye level. Apollo’s glass slipped out of his hands as put them high in the air. It hit the ground and shattered into tiny fragments all over the floor. The chaos faded into a brief moment of silence as Apollo and Julius stared down four rifle barrels. Two of the soldiers kicked the roommates onto their knees and handcuffed them. No one in the apartment block slept the entire night.