It ended eighteen goals to nil, and no one shuddered. It was always how every game was – astronomical scores, but all the goals scored by a single side. After the game, everyone just sauntered off the field; it was more of a ceremony than fiercely contested matches like those that happened off the island country.
The two teams were mostly comprised of the same players – well-built, muscular players – but there was a noticeable difference. It was in their eyes; they were remarkably blue for one part of the town and every other shade for every other person in the district. The blue-eyed were always on the winning side of the games, and their privilege was out of control on the island. Everyone knew the game was rigged; every other shade was beneath the blue-eyed people, and the referees knew it.
However fierce the contest was, it was always the same result. Inequality was normal, mostly seen in the disparities between the haves and the have-nots. The blue-eyed had everything, and the people with every other shade of eyes had just enough to survive. The inequality even extended to petty things like friendly matches; they weren't meant to be better than the blue-eyed people in any way. If it weren't for the hard labor needed in mining or the services industry, the blue-eyed would have booted everyone off the island and had it for themselves.
Because of these injustices that happened on the island, no non-islander wanted to visit. Reports could be heard of outrageous atrocities that went on the island without repercussions, but they didn't warrant even mild reprimand. The thing was, the island was so rich that it could provide all the occupants with what they needed to live happily, but it was these riches that were the problem. None of the outside nations dared to tamper with or question their relationship with the island, or even call them to order, for fear of losing them as trading partners.
They were second-class citizens on the island, mostly frail-looking and working odd jobs, even as they made up a substantial percentage of the population. The last census put them at thirty percent of the population, and that had been five years ago. There wasn't a concern that their birthrate had risen considerably, so they might be a few points above the last thirty percent. Birth control plans were extensive, and healthcare was top-class when it came to reproductive health – this was when the Flaks received the best attention from the authorities. The authorities were intent on their numbers more than any other aspect of their health.
The game was played once a year to commemorate the day when the law was made to halt hostility towards the Flaks. Before the law was put in place, physical violence was the way things worked on the island. The Flaks revolted against the torture, and this encouraged more torture. After the death of many of them in the revolts, the Supreme thought it wise to end the battles because, during the revolts, the mines were left unattended, the farms were not ploughed, and there was no one else to do every other odd job.
When the Council of the Supreme convened in a meeting to count their losses, the conclusion was that it was better if all hostilities ended. The physical violence stopped, but what didn't stop was the economic torture. The Flaks were still disenfranchised, but at least they were no longer being physically battered. Physical assault was a criminal offense that only attracted a mild reprimand of a fine for the Supreme. Any physical hostility from the Flaks was more heavily punished.
The law had settled hostilities, at least for most of the incidents, and it was on this day that a football match was played to remember the day the law was signed to be implemented.
Jamie was a Supreme, but he loved hanging around the Flaks. The Flaks lived on the side where most of the island visitors docked, their communities behind very high walls to cover up their deplorable conditions from outsiders. It was clear in the adverts that none of the areas where the Flaks stayed were shown to the outside world. It was behind those walls that the scum of the earth lived, smoking substances, drinking strong drinks. Anyone who left the walls had to have a sound reason why; it was always for work that was only found in the Supremes' community.
Jamie hated the Supreme life; it was comfortable but controlled. Everything was placed to near perfection; he found them pretentious, and they didn't risk enough and didn't get to feel the compassion needed to understand the human condition as the Flaks did. So, he was a regular with Flaks. Some had suggested adopting him, as he spent most of his time behind the walls where they lived.
His most favorite spot was on the rooftop of one of the houses; it was the highest point of the Flak community that oversaw the ocean and the nearest island that didn’t have any inhabitants. It was labeled Death Island because of the snakes; no one dared to cross except a few Supremes who went there for what they called research or adventures. The last Flak to step on the island must have been a decade ago.
Jamie was occasionally robbed behind these walls but never made mention of it. Every time he told his parents that he was leaving for the beach, where he had a job helping sailors dock, he would spend most of his time behind the walls at the vantage point, where he would see if a ship was approaching the island. The Supreme preferred that it was one of them who welcomed the sailors and visitors, while the other Flaks did the heavy lifting; this was how Jamie was employed at the docking section.
The job was incredibly easy; it only got busier on Friday through Sunday, and he spent his days behind the wall on most of the other days. During the first days when he started loitering about behind the walls, the police found it peculiar that a Supreme would be occasionally seen walking among the Flaks. There were questions, such as “Are you in danger?” but the questions had stopped, except for rookies who made patrols.
For the veterans, every time a Supreme was reported to have been seen behind the walls by the Flak police, their first question was if his name was Jamie. And most often than not, it was him. There were times he would just lay at the vantage point and marvel at the sight ahead. With him always was a Flak he had named Andy; he named him Andy because, to Jamie, the Flak name was too long and too difficult to pronounce.
All he could remember was that it began with a “K”, but as for the rest, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Over time, “Andy” had gotten used to his new name and would respond to it like it was originally his own. He was Andy when he was with Jamie, but at times forgot that little detail when he was with other people. He loved hanging around Jamie; it made economic sense to him, but also, Jamie was the only kind Supreme he knew; the rest were not good people, as far as he was concerned.
They would occasionally spend hours at the vantage point, and when someone approached the docking section at the beach, they would receive him. Jamie handled the paperwork, and Andy did the heavy lifting; then Jamie would discuss terms for payment and receive a hefty tip for both of them. The Flaks were never tipped; as far as the Supreme were concerned, as long as they had enough to live on, any extra money would be a distortion to the social order; they wouldn’t know what to do with it.
“Has it always been like this?” asked Andy as they sat at the vantage point, drinking a local juice made from tea leaves and pineapple peelings. It was their favorite drink. “What do you mean?” asked Jamie, looking quite perplexed at what he meant by the question.
“Before you arrived for work today, I witnessed a Supreme mercilessly beating a Flak. When I tried to interject to see if we could amicably resolve the situation, our own Flak police took us in for being hostile to a Supreme. The reason why the Flak was taking the beating was that he stared at the Supreme for too long, and the Supreme got suspicious of his intention. But what takes me aback was the discussion I had with the Flak policeman while we were in the cells. He told us that he would only let us go if the Supreme agreed not to press any other charges; otherwise, his job was always on the line, and one complaint of maltreatment from a Supreme spelled doom for his office, and he had a family to feed. Your people have taught us to hate each other. Has it always been like this?” Andy asked again.
“When we are brought up at the estate, no mention is made of the Flaks who share an island with us, but when we reach grade ten, we are fed with these stories of a group of second-class citizens on the island who only exist to do our bidding. And this goes on and on until the latter stages of our lives; only a few of us snap out of it. The literature, the songs – everything in the estates has been engineered to assert our dominance over the Flaks. I spend a lot of time behind the walls because I got tired of it, and any dissent shown towards it invites heavy punishment.”
“The books we have at the estate show that it has always been this way, but many of the things have been altered, so I’m sure it hasn’t always been like this. I don’t know who knows the truth, but I know it is somewhere; we just have to keep looking. There were voices of dissent among the Flaks that disliked the status quo, but none dared to speak out because the punishment would be too severe to bear. There was talk of the law being applied equally to both the Flaks and Supremes, but the population of the prison told a different story.
Occasionally, an activist would be whisked away, never to be seen again; none of them did it long enough to be a hero. There was a rumor that most of those were being thrown to the Snake Island, where they died in the wilderness. Every first Monday of the month in the Flak community, there was a highly secretive meeting that was conducted in a place that was a basement of a bar. Andy attended the meeting but was never invited to it. He spent most of his time listening through a small hole he had made on the wall.
He had stumbled upon this meeting on one of those days he moved about playing in the tunnels; he got wind of their schedule and managed to attend most of the meetings. But the statements made at times scared him; they talked of anarchy, murder, and many other things he found disturbing to hear. They sounded determined to do anything to end the tyranny of the Supreme on the island.
On this particular Monday, he crawled through the tunnels as he usually did; these were tunnels that were said to have been built in the war times. There was an opening every turn of the tunnel, but these didn’t have any locks. Andy found a lock on one turn, and in the previous meeting, they had discussed a plan whose final draft would be presented on the day and be voted on.
