All the guests were clapping again, shouting “President Damien Holt” at the top of their lungs. The bridegroom was no exception. They all seemed a little crazy. Then the president raised his hand, and the crowd immediately fell silent again.
“I know there have been rumours, my friends. Rumours that our food is running out and that it’s time we moved out of the Dome and back onto our lands.” He paused again, this time pointedly looking at some individuals in the room. A few men shifted uncomfortably. “Who here thinks that I would let my people starve? Who here thinks that I do not know whether our land is arable yet?” Another uncomfortable pause as he waited for anyone fool enough to answer him. No one did. “I have always been honest with you. And I have always been open about the samples the drones bring back to us, and they are still radioactive! Going out there is not an option!”
The president was yelling so loud that it hurt my ears. The bridegroom continued to stand beside his future father-in-law, vigorously nodding his head in agreement. Holt straightened his tie and then smoothed back his hair in what looked like an attempt to regain his composure. He took a few deep breaths.
“These vicious rumours are causing unnecessary apprehension, and they must cease before hysteria results. Already there has been unrest in the Pit because these falsehoods are leading our friends down there to believe they are being treated unfairly!” The president drew his lips into a tight line and balled his hands into fists. “Did we not open our doors to all those civilians who came to us seeking shelter from the bombs?”
The crowd nodded their heads and a few yelled, “Yes!”
“And do we not continue to provide shelter, despite their growing population and despite their growing demands on our food and water supplies? The Dome is capable of providing enough for everyone if we continue to live sustainably. So I say to our neighbours in the Pit that we must all do our part to maintain harmony and balance within the confines of our refuge!” As he spoke, his voice became steadily louder until he was yelling again. The guests shouted their agreement, giving the president their full support. He held up his hand to silence them once more.
“We can continue to grow strong, but it is up to each and every one of us to make that happen. And the marriage of my daughter to this man, Jack Kenner”—he patted the bridegroom on the back—“demonstrates that our life here can be every bit as good and beautiful as human existence was before the bombs. I can’t think of anything more inspiring than to see two young people in love joined in holy matrimony with all the possibilities the future holds before them. They are the embodiment of hope. And it is with these sentiments that I invite all of my people to take a day off from work and celebrate Leisel’s day. I have authorized the wedding to be televised. And for all those who think we are on the brink of starvation, I give a feast. It will be a day of celebration! A day to rejoice in all that we have to be thankful for!”
He reached for Jack Kenner’s hand and held it high in the air. The guests were going crazy. Shouts of “Long live President Holt!” went up. I heard a few people giving their praises and congratulations to the groom. I could only imagine the reaction in the Pit now that the rumour of a feast was confirmed.
It seemed like an eternity before the two men finished patting each other on the back and the president took his seat. Everyone else followed suit. The camera crew packed up and left. Our supervisor ushered us back to the kitchen and ordered us to start taking the food out to the guests.
The girl in front of us turned to look at Summer and me. “Since you’re new, I’ll help you out.” She was the same girl I’d spoken with downstairs. “You’ll be assigned a number when they give you a tray. Go out through those doors and find the table with your number on it. When you serve, you put the plates down gently between the cutlery in front of the person at the table. Usually you serve ladies first, but this is a bachelor party for the groom so there are no ladies here tonight. When everyone at the table is finished eating, clear the plates away. Then you can serve the next course.”
“Thank you,” I said. I had no idea it would be so complicated. “I’m Sunny, and this is Summer.”
“I’m Wynd,” she said, and gave us a halfhearted smile.
We were each given a tray holding four plates. We had to balance the tray on one hand so the other was free to set plates down. I was afraid I would drop it, but when I focused on just putting one foot in front of the other, I made it to the dining room with no trouble. I’d been assigned table nine. I searched out that table and headed toward it.
There were twelve men sitting there, all oblivious to my arrival. I set the plates down at each place setting just as Wynd had told me. No one complained, so I assumed I was doing it right. I expected them to start eating right away. I would. The food looked and smelled delicious. But they just continued talking among themselves, ignoring both the food and their server. My tray empty, I made my way back to the kitchen for more. My tray was refilled with four more plates, and I returned to table nine. Still no one had eaten. How could they ignore all that food? It was taking every bit of my will power not to eat it myself. I delivered the plates and went back for more. When I’d served all the plates, the men finally began to eat. I joined the other servers standing at the back of the room as we waited for our tables to finish.
While I was waiting, Wynd told Summer and me that the bourge ate their meals in courses. Tonight the first course was salad, the second soup, the third a plate of meat and vegetables, and the fourth—and final—dessert. It was going to be a very long night.
With each course I served, it became harder and harder to ignore the smells wafting up from the food. I was practically drooling. I was certain that the sound of my stomach growling was loud enough to be heard over the din of conversation and music. But on and on they ate. I delivered a full plate and took it away only half empty. Finally I served the last course—dessert. It looked scrumptious.
“Listen up girls!” our supervisor called out. “After you finish cleaning off your assigned table, wait by those doors for further instructions.” She pointed to the doors we’d come in through earlier. “Once you’ve been given something more appropriate to wear for the evening, you’ll be brought back to the dining room. Under no circumstances should you approach any of the men. If someone wants your company, he’ll let you know.”
Nausea rose up inside me. I’d been hoping this part of the evening would never arrive. Summer looked worried too, although she tried to hide it when she caught me looking at her. Glumly we picked up our trays and went back into the dining room to clear tables. This time I kept a close eye on Summer. I didn’t want us separated again, so I matched my speed to hers. When we were finished clearing, I walked just fast enough to get behind her.
Summer walked through the doors, stopping to place her tray on the racks provided for dirty dishes. The small alcove leading to the kitchen gave us a precious moment of privacy.
“Don’t leave my side tonight, Summer.”
She turned to look at me. “I’ll try, Sunny. But I’m scared.”
“So am I.”
She stepped aside to allow me to set my tray down, and as I did she plucked a tidbit of leftover dessert from one of the plates.
“Summer, what are you doing?” Stealing food was never tolerated. She knew that. I almost dropped my tray onto the rack.