Night gave way to the dull, amber glow of morning, the toxic haze of the sky casting strange shadows across the enclave walls. Beyond the towering concrete defensive walls and the weapon emplacement of the perimeter defence, the hulking figures of the Night Shift machines, their distorted, arachnid-like forms visible skittering up and down the sketal megastructures rising into the sky in the concrete, retreated into their burrows. Their screeching and clattering subsided, leaving the enclave in an eerie, mechanical silence. Inside the housing unit, a mother stirred in the dim light shining through a plastic sheet window, her body waking automatically as the system tones began to chime through their housing unit.
"Wake up, children. Europa is watching," she murmured, her voice soft but firm.
One by one, her children blinked into consciousness, the youngest, Maren, tugging at her blanket and rubbing her eyes. Her older brothers, Caleb and Tomas, already awake, were sitting up quietly on their narrow cots. The room was cramped and bare, the metal bedframes lined against the wall, but there was a certain warmth to the space, a faded picture of their father hanging over the door. The mother, Amara, pulled Maren close, stroking her hair as they began their daily ritual.
"Blessed Europa, greatest of nations, guardian of peace, we thank you for the nourishment you give, for the work you assign, for the shelter you provide. We are loyal, we are grateful. We serve. We will work diligently today.."
The children echoed her words, their voices soft but clear: "We will work diligently today."
She opened the cupboard with the biometric lock, its familiar click revealing their breakfast rations, measured to the gram for each of them personally. Four packets of gray nutrient gel sat on the shelf. Amara unfolded each packet with careful hands, placing them in front of her children. They ate silently, but there was no tension, only routine.
As Maren poked at her gel with a spoon, Amara smiled softly and leaned in to whisper, "Eat up, little one. We need to show Europa that we're grateful today, remember?"
Maren nodded, taking a small bite as her brothers exchanged glances Caleb, the eldest, nudged his sister, making a face at the bland paste to coax a smile out of her. Tomas, ever the serious one, chewed methodically, but the brief smile on his face betrayed him.
After breakfast, they dressed in faded gray overalls, the same ones they'd worn yesterday and the day before, their fabric thinning at the seams. Amara stood by the doorway, adjusting Maren's collar with care, smoothing it down with motherly precision. "There," she said, her eyes meeting Maren's with a soft smile. "Perfect. We need to show Europa our devotion to our work."
Then they gathered in front of the housing unit's screen, the green light at one side always blinking, proving that Europa was always watching, as did every family in their sector. The black screen flickered, lighting up with a list of work assignments. Amara stood with her hands clasped tightly, the children mirroring her posture. Europa was listening. The work was hard, exhausting, but it was essential. And they knew, somehow, that Europa knew whether they were loyal, obedient, or defiant. They would serve Europa, and Europa would keep them save. If they were loyal, Europa would bring Jack back.
Jack, Amara's husband, their father, had been conscripted months ago. His absence, though painful, granted them extra rations. The rations were better with him gone, but no one spoke of the cost. They even had a piece of synthetic sugar last night, a luxury beyond imagination. Conscription meant sacrifice, but it also meant reward.
The assignments flashed on the screen. Amara's heart skipped as she read the lines: she would be working in the water filtration plant, and the boys were sent to the airfilter maintenance crew. Maren, though only seven, was assigned to sorting scrap in the recycling yard. Amara's stomach twisted at the thought of her youngest among the twisted metal and rusting machines, but she whispered a prayer to Europa under her breath.
"We'll manage," she said softly, squeezing Maren's hand. "Europa provides."
As they left their housing unit, a neighbor, a grizzled man named Jarel, offered Amara a weak smile. "I'll keep an eye on Maren for you, if she's near the yard where I am."
"Thank you, Jarel," Amara said, her voice warm with gratitude. "Europa watches over us all."
"Europa protects, Europa provides", he replied, before hobbling on.
The narrow streets between housing prefabs were filled with the sound of boots on concrete, families moving in sync toward their work stations, their faces blank and their bodies moving automatically. Above them, surveillance drones buzzed in the murky sky, watching with cold, unblinking eyes. The massive gun turrets along the perimeter walls remained motionless but always ready, pointed outward to the wasteland beyond. There, the twisted remnants of the city loomed, the grotesque shapes built by the Night Shift fading into the poisoned horizon.
But inside the enclave, there were moments that felt almost normal. Caleb swung his arm around Tomas as they walked, his voice a low murmur as he whispered jokes only brothers would understand. Maren skipped along the cracked pavement, holding her mother's hand. Amara exchanged nods with neighbors, small glances and smiles being exchanged.
They reached the work gates, where they would part for the day. Amara crouched down to meet Maren's eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Work hard, my love. Europa sees our efforts," she whispered, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. Maren nodded solemnly, clutching her mother's hand.
"Will Papa come home soon?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper, a flicker of hope in her gaze.
Amara throat tightened, but she smiled softly, brushing Maren's hair back. "I don't know, sweetheart. But we'll keep waiting, won't we? Europa takes care of us."
Ana nodded, satisfied with the answer, and hurried off, joining the line of children.
Caleb gave Amara a quick hug, Tomas following his brother's lead. "We'll see you tonight, Mama," Caleb said with a rare smile, though it was tight with the knowledge of the hours ahead.
Amara watched them go, her heart heavy but steady. As she entered the filtration plant, the metallic hiss of machinery filling the air, Amara glanced up at the screen mounted on the wall. It flickered, and for a fleeting moment, she felt as though Europa was watching her. An everpresent guardian. Perhaps that was why, despite everything, she whispered her thanks under her breath before picking up her tools.