The Mourning Law

Chapter 1 - 0 Hours Owed: Naya

I never noticed the light that shimmers off the dome before; The dome that has been there for my whole life I’m now dissecting. It seems like I didn’t notice a lot of things until today. It’s like my mind was woken up for some reason.

Earlier that Morning

The path to the bus stop was dry dirt, stomped down by years of footsteps, the grass wild and tall, showing how it has been touched forever. Straight ahead, I spotted the bus stop with a “Stop the Crime” sign hanging from the top, both the front and back stating the warning that no one seems to listen to anymore. My mother told me when she was young that crime was nonexistent to the point of doors being left open, but now, not even grills or security systems will stop these criminals. Living in a country that is as small as Vespera and has such advanced technology, you would think with so much knowledge we would be civil, but those minds are now being used to kill, rape, and rob us.

Across the street, the car wash was filled with men laughing while music was blasting; you would never think that it’s early in the morning. Some in rubber suits and others directing the cars on where to park to wait on their turn, others with wet booths, rubber suits, spraying down cars and cleaning engines.

As I looked up the street, a car driving at high speed pulled up. Bap! Bap!

My heart leaped in my chest; I ducked. Hesitant to move or to look up, I saw everyone at the bus stop also ducked; people across the street in the car wash ducked; gunshots cracked through the air. For a moment, my body froze, my knee feeling weak and a chill running through my body. The air felt thick, like someone was holding a pillow over my face; it felt like time stood still, trees stood immobile, their leaves barely rustling, the sign above the bus stop wasn’t swaying, every instinct in my body urging me to run, but fear kept my body planted, making it impossible to move.

Then the screaming started. The scream jerked my body awake, and with that I realized the scream was coming from me, my own voice. I watch as the car tires screech against the pavement and sped off, leaving dust behind. As I looked up, there he was: a man lay on the ground, not even 5 feet from me, one arm twisted beneath him, and the other hand hold is briefcase, fingers tightly formed around the handle; he didn’t even get time to think to let go to move. Papers from the briefcase spilled across the pavement: invoices, forms, and printed spreadsheets. Among all the documents was a child’s drawing with bright crayon lines across the white paper depicting a stick family; even though it was uneven, it radiated warmth, innocence, home. He is someone’s home; he was someone’s home, a child. In one corner of the paper, a small sun glowed with the word “Daddy” written below in a crooked but heartwarming way.

He was a father, probably a husband too, and someone’s beloved child. His absence will leave a void in their lives that will never be filled. This man who just lay there against the pavement, lifeless, is now gone forever.

People started walking past me to gather around him, and then the phones came out, cameras lifted; no one tried to help, no one seemed shocked; it was more like they were focusing on capturing footage for likes and views. They did nothing. “ Somebody help him, call 119, please,” I shouted with tears flooding my eyes. Heads turned toward me, blank faces, some annoyed expressions. Then, one by one, these bastards turned back like programmed machines and went back to recording.

The owner of the car wash muttered. “I’m calling an ambulance now…but mi nuh tink im alive”

I couldn’t move; tears welled in my eyes as a wave of helplessness washed over me. I thought of the small hands that scribble the drawing, and I sank into despair, knowing that life just changes in an instant; there are no certainties. One minute we are here, and the next gone.

My legs felt planted into the pavement, my hands trembling uncontrollably, not knowing if it was seeing this man unalived or the thought that the shooters may come back, even though this looked targeted. “The Stop the Crime banner above the bus stop flapped in the breeze like a cruel joke. Like a sick freaking joke.

My phone startled me out of the state that I was in. I hesitated to answer the call; I proceeded to answer, “Yes Sup”, “Yeah, mi a run a likkle late; there was a shooting, someone is dead, and I’m… I’m...”

“Are you shot?” My supervisor, Mr. Johnson, interrupted. “Hmm, no,” I muttered. He paused for a second. “I know this might be shocking for you, seeing that you still somewhat knew the area, but with that said, these things happen every day, and it's no excuse to be late. Get yourself together and get your ass to work now.” The line went dead. I stood there with my phone pressed to my ears in shock at his heartlessness. Was I shocked? Or was I angry at how accustomed we were to death? Are people being killed? He didn’t even ask if you were okay? Is anyone else hurt? Did the person die? Do you feel like you can emotionally manage today? Nothing but lack of empathy.

My head swelled, and my heart ached. Was this the real world? Was this why mommy was so strict, following me to school, picking me up? Was this the real world? And why did it take so long for me to see it? Devastation washed over me; anger, hot and raw, surged through my veins, skin prickled, and my thoughts spiraled out of control, not just at the shooter or Mr Johnson but at everyone. The people who choose to film rather than help, at the normalcy of death. What kind of society watches a man bleed out and lifts their phone to record instead of a hand?

“Hey Naya, I heard you had a rough experience this morning, girl”

A voice snapped me back to reality, Nalani. As an Administrative Assistant at Producify, one of the largest manufacturing companies in the city, I handled documentation for the department. I was good at my job, reliable, efficient, never late- well, until this morning. The environment was just like every other corporate job: toxic and draining, but the pay was good, and I liked the work. Plus, I had my best friend Nalani as my workplace safe space. “Yeah,” I exhaled. I don’t even know how I got to work; I was just so dazed.

We met at Producify on the first day; it started as just coworkers and small talk, then it turned into late-night vent sessions and sleepovers, shared trauma, especially from the job. Producify didn’t just give me a stable job but a close friend as well.

“So what happened, wah gwan?”Nalani leaned over the cuticle wall, her freshly done nails carefully styled with details from her current favourite K-pop group as she asked quietly.

“Someone got shot right across from the bus stop; nobody helped, honestly, not even I helped.” My voice cracked. “I’m here filing papers while he’s…dead”

Nalani frowned. “ That’s heavy, babe.” Her bright dark-brown eyes softened, filling with empathy. “But are you okay, though? I know this is your first time experiencing something like this,” She added.

She wasn’t lying. It was my first time, and I knew the place was violent, but experiencing it firsthand was different. I was confined most of my life. Raised in the countryside and homeschooled until the government announced that, when I was supposed to be in the 11th grade, it became mandatory for everyone to attend public or private school. So I spent a year in public school, then six months ago I started working at Producify. My 18-year-old self didn’t know this world for a while; I wanted to be angry with mommy for isolating me, but now I’m kind of grateful.

“Yeah, I’m okay…I think,” I paused. “After the shooting, it got me thinking about ways to lessen the crime within the country, and I think I came up with something. You wanna hear it? I said. Nalani’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yeah, man, you know I love hearing your crazy thoughts.” I stood up to face her over the cubicle. “Okay, hear me out: one life equals one hour of stillness.” Confusion flushed Nalani’s face. I continued, “ If someone is killed, everyone has to stop- not freeze like a statue- just stillness, no talking, no interacting, no business, just silence and meditation on the person who died, mourning the life lost. Everyone will be standing for 1 hour for that one person.”

Nalani’s face looked amused but confused at the same time when she replied,“Interesting…go on”. “ The face of the person who got killed would be everywhere: billboards, phones, TV; that way nobody could ignore it. Emergency services would get grace time; kids wouldn’t need to comply with the law. Mothers with babies would have a grace period to settle them and move them to safety. Hospitals would get exemptions as needed. And the dome and polices drones they use to monitor the streets could be used to make sure people comply, they will be the watchful eye, the use to dome to monitor outside for impending attacked the dome could be used for monitor its people in here as well” I hesitated and then precede “ and if someone refused to observe the stillness…” My jaw tighten. “There should be consequences”. Nalani now look concerned “what kind of consequences?” she said. My voice dropped “Permanent ones” Nalani straightened up “Like death, yuh caan serious? I sat back in my chair. “I wish I wasn’t, but maybe fear is the only thing this country understands”

“Nalani! Get back to your desk!” Mr. Sup shouted from across the office. “Yes, sir,” Nalani muttered while standing upright with a salute like a soldier would. “You see this fool?” she whispered to me. I chuckled. “I heard that!” Mr. Sup shouted. “I told Mr. CEO not to hire so many young people, but he didn’t listen. Unnu generation too emotional,” He added.

The sun was already low as I left work. The bus stop looked the same. The “Stop the Crime” banner still flapped overhead. Across the street, the car wash was busy. Men laughed. Water sprayed. Music played from a small speaker. The same spot on the pavement had been washed clean. No tape. No flowers. No sign that a man had bled out there this morning. Cars pulled in and out. Customers chatted while waiting. Life had continued without hesitation.I stood there longer than necessary. It was like nothing had happened. Like he had never existed. A tightness built in my chest. This disgusting place, I thought. Helplessness wrapped around my heart. Maybe the shooter pulled the trigger, but this indifference… this silence… this was a different kind of violence. My week went by in a daze. I honestly don’t remember much. All I remember is the numbness. How could I feel so numb and helpless toward someone I didn’t even know? They didn’t even do a news broadcast for him. Nothing. No updates on his family. No uproar. Just silence. I kept thinking: If this were my mom, or someone close to me like Nalani, would it be the same way?