angadsingh1626

[angadsingh1626]

Chapter 1 of my novel please like it and also leave suggestions for it

“The Shithole”

The first sound Aric heard that morning was the steady drip… drip… drip of water falling from the leaking ceiling onto the warped floorboards. He groaned, rolling over in his small, cramped bed, and tried to ignore it. The faint stench of dampness and rot filled his nostrils, making him cough. The air in the room was heavy, tainted by the acrid odor of cigarette smoke and the unmistakable tang of garbage left too long to fester.

He sat up reluctantly, his movements sluggish, and swung his feet onto the cold floor. Around him, the chaos of his home came into focus: piles of trash littered the room, crumpled fast-food wrappers, discarded cans, and countless cigarette butts scattered haphazardly. The once-white walls were stained yellow, streaked with the grime of neglect.

Aric reached for the half-empty pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, shaking one loose. Lighting it with a flick of his battered lighter, he took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that mingled with the haze already hanging in the room. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the fatigue clinging to him like a second skin.

“Another day in paradise,” he muttered sarcastically, his voice hoarse from years of smoking.

He shuffled to the tiny kitchenette that occupied one corner of his apartment. Opening the fridge, he grimaced at the sight inside: a carton of expired milk, a half-eaten sandwich, and a plastic container of something unidentifiable. He pulled out a box of instant noodles, boiled some water, and dumped the contents into a stained bowl.

As the noodles steeped, he took another drag from his cigarette and glanced out the single grimy window. The view wasn’t much to look at—just the crumbling buildings of his neighborhood, their walls covered in graffiti and their windows dark with grime. A stray dog rummaged through a pile of garbage on the street below. Aric’s stomach churned, though whether from hunger or disgust, he couldn’t tell.

He took a bite of his breakfast and immediately regretted it. The noodles were bland and rubbery, the broth salty enough to make him wince. “Shitty food for a shitty life,” he muttered, tossing the bowl onto the counter. The clang of ceramic against metal echoed briefly before being swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room.

Aric got dressed quickly, throwing on a wrinkled shirt and a pair of scuffed boots. He grabbed his bag and headed out, lighting another cigarette as he walked to work. The streets were busy with people trudging to their own dead-end jobs, their faces blank and weary. Some walked in silence, while others muttered into outdated comm devices or listened to tinny music through cheap headphones. The air was thick with the scent of exhaust and decay, a permanent marker of their bleak surroundings.

Work was a dull, soul-crushing affair. Aric worked at a factory that processed scrap metal, the kind of job where each day blended into the next. The air inside was hot and stifling, filled with the constant clang of machinery and the acrid smell of burning metal. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, unflattering glow on everything. Aric clocked in late, as usual, and felt the eyes of his supervisor, Mr. Torrens, boring into him from across the room.

“Aric!” Torrens barked, storming toward him with a clipboard in hand. The man was tall and broad, his face permanently set in a scowl. “You’re late. Again.”

Aric didn’t bother making an excuse. He just shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

Torrens wasn’t having it. “Don’t you dare shrug at me, you lazy piece of shit. Do you even care about this job? Or are you just here to waste my time?”

Aric bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay calm. He knew exactly what Torrens was doing—pushing him, trying to provoke a reaction. The man had been on his case for weeks now, criticizing every little thing he did, berating him in front of the other workers. Aric knew Torrens wanted him to quit, and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“I’m here to work,” Aric said evenly, meeting Torrens’ glare.

“Then start acting like it,” Torrens snapped. “You doze off on the job, you show up late, and your output’s pathetic. You’re a goddamn liability, Aric. Get your shit together, or I’ll make sure you’re out of here faster than you can light one of those damn cigarettes.”

Aric nodded silently, biting back the urge to lash out. Instead, he turned and headed to his station, the heat of Torrens’ glare following him the whole way. He picked up his tools and got to work, focusing on the repetitive tasks in front of him. Welding, cutting, sorting—it was mind-numbing labor, but at least it kept his hands busy. The rhythm of the machines drowned out his thoughts, offering a temporary reprieve from the weight of his existence.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Aric headed to the break room with a battered lunchbox in hand. He found an empty seat at one of the tables and sat down, pulling out a sandwich that was more bread than filling. He wasn’t hungry, but he forced himself to eat, knowing he needed the energy to get through the rest of the day. Around him, the room buzzed with low conversations and the occasional clatter of utensils. The other workers talked about their lives, their families, their struggles—but Aric stayed quiet, detached from the small camaraderies that others seemed to find solace in.

“Aric,” a familiar voice said, breaking into his thoughts. He looked up to see Jake standing across from him, a tray in hand. Jake’s face had aged since their days at the facility, lines of exhaustion etched into his features, but his eyes still held a flicker of the warmth Aric remembered.

“Mind if I sit?” Jake asked. Without waiting for a response, he slid into the seat across from Aric.

Aric nodded absently, taking another bite of his sandwich. Jake started talking, his words coming in a steady stream as he recounted his own struggles, his frustrations with life in the lower ranks of society. Aric listened half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere. He stared past Jake, his gaze unfocused, as memories of the facility crept into his thoughts—cold steel walls, sterile corridors, the ever-present hum of machinery. He forced the memories back, but they lingered at the edges of his mind, like shadows he couldn’t quite escape.

“…and it’s just so damn hard, you know? Every day feels like a grind, like I’m stuck in this endless loop,” Jake was saying. He paused, glancing at Aric, who hadn’t reacted to anything he’d said. “Are you even listening to me?”

Aric blinked, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention. “Yeah,” he lied. “I’m listening.”

Jake frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve changed, Aric. I can’t believe you, of all people, ended up in this shithole.”

The words hit Aric like a punch to the gut. He stiffened, his jaw tightening as he stared down at his uneaten sandwich. Without a word, he stood up, grabbed his pack of cigarettes, and walked out of the break room.

“Where are you going?” Jake called after him. “At least finish your lunch!”

Aric didn’t respond. He lit a cigarette as he stepped outside, the sharp bite of the cold air hitting his face. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around him like a protective shield. He walked to a quiet corner of the yard, leaning against the wall as he stared at the ground, lost in thought.

“This so-called shithole,” he muttered to himself, “is better than what those monsters would have done to me.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and before he could stop himself, tears started streaming down his face. He leaned against the wall, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed quietly. The memories of the facility, of the cold, unfeeling system that had judged and discarded so many, pressed down on him like a weight he couldn’t escape. He remembered the cold eyes of the evaluators, the way they had stripped him of his dignity, reduced him to a number on a page. He remembered the friends who hadn’t made it out, their faces haunting him in the quiet moments when his defenses were down.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, the cigarette burning down to a stub between his fingers. The sky overhead shifted from gray to a pale, washed-out blue, the sun peeking weakly through the clouds. When he finally straightened up, his face was streaked with tears, but his expression was resolute. He wiped his eyes and flicked the cigarette away, watching as the wind carried the ashes into the distance.

Jake might think Aric had fallen, but he knew the truth. He had survived. And as broken as his life felt now, it was still his—something no one could take away from him again. He inhaled deeply, feeling the sting of the cold air in his lungs, and pushed himself away from the wall. The day wasn’t over yet, and there was still work to be done. For now, that was enough to keep him moving forward.

[angadsingh1626]

Hi guys this is the prologue of a novel that i am writing it is a dystopian novel and its name right now is not decided but hope you like it

Prologue

The facility loomed large, its gray, utilitarian walls unyielding against the horizon. The structure seemed to stretch endlessly, a fortress of function devoid of beauty. Inside, the air smelled faintly sterile, laced with a chill that seeped into your bones. This was not a place of comfort—it was a crucible, a testing ground to determine one's worth in a society meticulously divided by class. Here, children were stripped of individuality and molded into roles dictated by aptitude. From birth, the facility became their world, their entire existence revolving around tests, rankings, and evaluations. To excel was to secure a future; to fail was to descend into darkness.

Among these children was Aric, a boy of twelve with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing and a mind that worked faster than the machines surrounding him. Aric wasn’t just good at the facility’s tests; he was the best. Time after time, his name appeared at the top of the rankings, earning him the whispered admiration of his peers and the cold, calculating approval of the instructors.

Lunch break was the only reprieve they were granted from the relentless battery of evaluations. In the sterile cafeteria, the chatter of children buzzed like static, low and cautious. Even in their brief moments of freedom, the weight of the facility’s purpose hung over them. Aric sat with his tray of protein cubes and nutrient paste, his posture relaxed but his gaze alert. Across from him sat Jake, his closest friend—if friendships could even exist in a place like this.

“You’re gonna be an Elder,” Jake said, his voice filled with unreserved awe. He leaned forward, his brown eyes wide. “I’m serious, Aric. They’re gonna take one look at your scores and put you right at the top.”

Aric’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. “I hope so. The system works, Jake. It’s fair. If you do your best, you get what you deserve. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Jake’s face tightened, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his tray. “Yeah, but… what if your best isn’t enough? What if…” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What if I end up as Vermin?”

Aric’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned in slightly. “You won’t. You just have to push yourself harder. The facility knows what it’s doing. If you work for it, the system will place you where you belong.”

Jake nodded quickly, but his expression remained strained. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just… You make it look so easy, Aric. You’re perfect at everything. I… I don’t want to be left behind.”

Aric straightened, his tone firm but not unkind. “Then don’t be. Work harder. Think smarter. If you want something, you have to earn it. That’s what the facility teaches us. And it’s right.”

Jake swallowed, his admiration for Aric mingling with a gnawing fear. “You’re gonna be great, Aric. I just… I hope I can keep up.”

Aric offered a brief nod, his confidence unshaken. “You will. Just trust the system.”

Before their conversation could continue, a sharp tone echoed through the cafeteria, signaling the end of the break. Children rose from their seats in unison, their movements mechanical as they filed out in neat lines. Aric and Jake followed, their words trailing off as the relentless routine resumed.

The rest of the day was a blur of tests and evaluations. Aric excelled as always, his mind cutting through problems with precision and speed. Every challenge was another opportunity to prove himself, another step toward his rightful place at the top. He thrived under the pressure, his belief in the system unwavering. To him, the facility wasn’t just a place—it was a beacon of order in a chaotic world, a mechanism that ensured only the worthy rose to power.

Jake, on the other hand, struggled. His answers were slower, his confidence faltering with each mistake. As the day wore on, his anxiety grew, his fear of failure gnawing at him. He looked to Aric with a mixture of admiration and desperation, clinging to the hope that his friend’s brilliance might somehow inspire him to do better.

That night, as the children lay in their bunks, the room was filled with the soft sound of breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets. Jake turned to Aric, his voice a whisper in the dark. “Do you ever get scared?”

Aric’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, his expression calm. “No. Fear doesn’t help. All it does is hold you back. Focus on what you can control, and trust the system to handle the rest.”

Jake nodded, though his unease didn’t fade. “I wish I could be like you. You make it all look so easy.”

“It’s not easy,” Aric said, his voice steady. “It’s work. And if you work hard enough, you’ll make it too.”

Jake didn’t respond, his thoughts swirling as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. But for Aric, the path ahead was clear. The facility would decide his class, and he would embrace it. He believed in the system, in its fairness and its purpose. And he knew, without a doubt, that he was destined for greatness.

The following morning began like any other, the children awakened by the piercing sound of the facility’s alarm. They dressed in identical uniforms, a sea of gray that mirrored the building’s unyielding walls. Breakfast was brief, a rushed affair of nutrient paste and water, before they were herded into the testing halls.

The halls were vast and silent, the only sound the faint hum of machinery. Each child was assigned a station, their names displayed on cold, glowing screens. Aric settled into his seat, his fingers poised over the console as the first test began. The questions were complex, designed to push their minds to the limit. Logic puzzles, mathematical equations, spatial reasoning—each task demanded precision and speed.

Aric moved through the questions with practiced efficiency, his mind a well-oiled machine. He thrived in this environment, where success was measured in numbers and there was no room for doubt. But as he worked, a faint murmur of unease tugged at the edge of his thoughts. Jake’s whispered fears lingered, a shadow that refused to fade.

Glancing to his side, Aric caught a glimpse of Jake. His friend’s face was pale, his brow furrowed in concentration. The strain was evident in the tightness of his jaw, the way his fingers trembled as they worked the controls. For a moment, Aric hesitated, the certainty of his beliefs wavering. Was the system truly fair? Could effort alone determine one’s worth?

The moment passed as quickly as it had come. Aric turned his attention back to the screen, dismissing the doubt as a weakness he couldn’t afford. The system was fair. It had to be. Without it, there was chaos. And Aric refused to believe that the world could be any other way.

By the end of the day, the rankings were updated, displayed for all to see. Aric’s name was at the top, as always. Jake’s was near the bottom, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by their peers. Whispers followed Jake as they filed out of the testing hall, their hushed voices a mix of pity and disdain.

That evening, as they sat in their bunk, Jake’s shoulders were slumped, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m trying, Aric. I really am. But it’s like no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough.”

Aric hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “Maybe you’re not working the right way. Think about your mistakes, figure out what’s holding you back, and fix it. That’s what I do.”

Jake looked up, his expression a mixture of hope and despair. “What if I can’t?”

“You can,” Aric said firmly. “You just have to believe it. The facility gives us everything we need to succeed. You have to trust it.”

Jake nodded, but his eyes betrayed his doubt. As the lights dimmed and the room fell into silence, Aric found himself staring at the ceiling, his thoughts restless. For the first time, he wondered if the system he had always trusted was as infallible as he believed.

Weeks passed, the relentless cycle of tests and evaluations continuing without pause. Jake’s struggles deepened, his rankings slipping further despite his efforts. The gap between him and Aric grew, a chasm that neither could bridge. Their conversations became strained, the bond they shared fraying under the weight of the facility’s demands.

One day, the announcement came. Jake was removed from the facility. The declaration was stark and final: he was now Vermin. The words echoed through the halls, a cold reminder of the stakes they all faced. Jake didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. One moment, he was there; the next, he was gone.

Aric stared at the empty bunk that night, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. Jake’s absence left a void that no amount of success could fill. For the first time, doubt crept into his heart—not just about the system, but about himself. Had he done enough to help his friend? Was the system truly as fair as he had always believed?

The following day, Aric excelled in the next round of tests, as expected. His name remained at the top, a symbol of perfection in the eyes of the instructors. But the victory felt hollow. As he stood alone in the cafeteria, the chatter of his peers a distant hum, he couldn’t shake the image of Jake’s haunted eyes, the fear that had consumed him in his final days.

The system had decided. Jake was gone, deemed unworthy, discarded like so many others. And Aric was left to carry the weight of that truth. For the first time, he questioned whether the system he had always trusted was truly just—or if it was merely a machine, blind to the humanity of those it judged.

Aric clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He would succeed, not just for himself, but for Jake and all the others who had been cast aside. If the system was flawed, he would rise to a position where he could change it. Because if there was one thing he had learned, it was that greatness wasn’t just about winning. It was about making a difference.