Hey, everyone! I wrote a scenario for my Future Problem Solving Competition. My topic is Food Distribution and it's set about sixty years in the future. Please take a look at it and tell me what you think! Thanks!
A Red Lunchbox
The year was 2078, and the children in Mali were desperate for food.
When Amelia returned, everyone stared. It wasn’t just the crisp, white-and-blue uniform that she wore, the black hair washed and combed tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck, or the sharp, polished dress shoes on her feet that drew attention, but the gaudy red plastic lunchbox that was clutched in her smooth hands.
In their minds, they compared this girl to the one who had left Mali, her nicest blouse washed over and over to try and regain the white that had been replaced by a dusty gray, her skirt made out of her mother’s best cloth, sewn through endless nights as the fire burned low, and the new sandals bought using the donated money of everyone in the village.
They compared the two and could not find any resemblance.
Amelia gave a hesitant smile to her friends from a year past as she sat down at an empty spot. She opened her lunchbox, acutely aware of fifty eyes focused on her.
She thought of the day she had left, when their faces glittered with tears to see her go, their hands reaching for hers as she boarded the plane.
She looked at her friends, who sat stiffly at another table, purposely not looking at her.
Amelia glanced down at the sandwich held in her hands and began to eat it quietly, but her chewing was still the only sound heard in the silence.
Then, a tap on her shoulder. She whirled around, frightened, but calmed down at the sight of a young girl, around age four or five, with her hands out. She had forgotten how noiselessly the villagers could move.
Amelia brought out a small brownie from her lunchbox and dropped it into the girl’s hands. The dusty, dirt-caked face broke into a wide grin, showing off gaping teeth. “Thank you, Amina.”
Amelia flinched at the name. Amina was her old name, the name she had before going to America. It meant ‘new beginning’, and it had been given to her by her mother in the hope that her life would be the start of something new. Well, maybe it had just been luck, but Amelia had experienced a new beginning in America, and she didn’t want to start all over again back in Mali. There was no need. Who was there to impress, after all? After all, these dirty, filthy children were her friends. She belonged here.
But, looking around, Amelia couldn’t help but wish she was in another place—a place where her uniform would not have been something to stare at, a place where the cafeteria was not the ground outside of a one-room school…a place that the other children here imagined as paradise, and what she imagined as home.
She was jolted out of her revere with a high, ringing voice of the teacher. “Welcome back, Amina. We are all so happy that you have returned. And…if you wouldn’t mind me asking...when will the transporter arrive with our food?”
Amelia sighed. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Let me ask my father.” He would know, being the Food Distribution Head for this village. She pressed the microchip located at her wrist, and, after a few moments, a projection popped up. “Father? When is the food arriving?”
His image appeared nervous. “Amelia…I have some bad news.” He switched from his native tongue of Bambara to English—a language only the two of them could understand. “The government of Mali has cancelled the Food Distribution Network for this village. They say that we are too small to need all the food that the FDN supplies us monthly.” Amelia’s mouth dropped. No more food?
Her father hurried to reassure her. “But, since they know that they are taking away my job, and therefore the money I use to support us, the government sent me a package containing two month’s worth of food. If we ration it, there will be enough to live off of until I can get a new job.”
In the background, Amelia heard a voice calling her father’s name, and he glanced down at his watch. “Goodbye, Amelia. I must go now.”
Before she could utter a word, the projection sputtered out, leaving her in shock. She stared at her hands, her eyes vacant and cloudy, until the teacher prodded her gently. “Amina? When will we receive our food?”
Without thinking, Amelia answered in a voice as brittle as ice. “Never.” Instant commotion ensured.
“What?”
“What are you saying?”
“Amina?”
“How can this be?”
“Are you joking?”
The teacher hushed the students. “Amina, can you explain?”
She did. Her words were met with silence, and then more questions started.
“But…why? Why would they do this to us? We are so hungry…” There was a murmur of agreement.
Gradually, though, the disbelief died out, replaced by a weary acceptance. So many bad things had already happened that this new blow was almost expected. Their only consolation was that things could not get any worse.
◌ ◌ ◌
The next day at school, Amelia arrived wearing a simple white shirt and plain brown pants, but the bright crimson lunchbox still dangled from her hand.
As Amelia walked outside for lunch, she mustered up the courage to sit down by her former friends. One by one they looked at her, and one by one they got up and moved. She was devastated.
Blinking twice to clear her eyes of tears, she opened her lunchbox and took out a mushy banana and a sandwich made up of two halves of a piece of wheat bread, with a thin slice of slimy ham slid between them. Amelia took a deep, shuddering breath and began to eat her lunch. Alone.
As she ate, her friends stole glances at her, anger filling their eyes. While they were starving to death, she came to school flaunting the fact that she had food and they didn’t. She always received the best things. First the trip to America, then the food. And when she returned, she expected them to flock around her, worshipping her, like they always did.
But this time, things were different.
◌ ◌ ◌
The pattern repeat itself.
Amelia came to school with a slice of cake in her hand, a peace offering. When she sat down, once again attempting to speak with her friends, she held it out. “Please?” she asked.
They looked at her stonily even as their stomachs rumbled at the sight of food. Then, watching Amelia carefully, one of them took it. Amelia’s body flooded with relief. As she took it from Amelia, her hand opened, and Amelia watched in horror as the cake fell to the ground. Glancing at Amelia’s expression, a foot stretched out, and the piece of cake was ground into crumbs too small to be seen.
She could not hold back a sob, and salty tears ran into the dry earth while the hot sun shone in the bright blue sky.
◌ ◌ ◌
The next day, Amelia came to school with a watery smile. As usual, all eyes were drawn to her, but for a different reason. The painted scarlet lunchbox was gone. Her hands were empty, as well as everyone else’s in the school.
Lunchtime came, and Amelia walked over to her friends. They slid over to make room for her, and they all began to talk. Finally, one girl asked her timidly, “What happened?”
Amelia replied quietly, “We ran out.”
◌ ◌ ◌
A mile from the school, a bright red lunchbox lay on the side of the road, flies swarming around the uneaten food.