Make Your Bet So The City Will Thrive

He lay in my arms, weak and barely moving, while I choked on the scent of old oil and dirty humans in the thick air. He hadn’t cried yet. I didn’t cry for help; I knew the odds. So I held him close and tried to get him to nurse, to scream, to put his little mark on this world before he left it.

“I can take it for you,” someone muttered, pausing in the door. I’dve closed it, if the thing wasn’t hanging on its hinges. “For free. Hand it over.”

I shook my head, biting back the furious words that pummeled my throat. Yelling wouldn’t be my baby’s last sounds.

“Fine.” The stranger shrugged. “Better get moving. Chance of a blackout tonight is 63%.”

“I know that.” Everyone knew. It flashed above all the city buildings, you couldn’t get away from it or any other statistic the planning department considered critical. This one wasn’t; we had blackouts every other night, felt like, but if they didn’t announce it, people wouldn't bet on it, and the city wouldn’t get its take. Couldn’t have that.

Soon as the stranger left, I struggled to my feet. Not safe to stay here any longer. Looked around, but my pants were missing. Someone musta taken them, even all bloody and wet like they were.

Oh well. I pulled the sheet from the cot, folded over the dirtiest parts, and wrapped it around myself, holding him close as I hobbled down the hall. Walking did not feel good, but we had to get out of here and we didn’t have much time.

Outside it was already night, with people rushing past in both directions, everyone looking nervously up at the darkening sky, then at the brightly lit buildings with their flashing statistics. Blackouts were dangerous, and not just because you couldn’t see an inch in any direction. The city doubled all bets during blackouts, and that changed people. The chance at money like that could get you out of here. Get you somewhere high up, off the muck-covered surface.

Nobody ever won, but the dream kept people playing.

Not me. Betting was too violent, too dangerous. Didn’t need to when I held the most important bet in my arms right now. I drew a breath of sour night air, stubbing my foot on a piece of jagged concrete and biting back a curse.

Keep walking. Straight on, eyes down, nobody’s business while the lights were still on.

My entire body ached. I could hardly believe I’d birthed a child tonight.

All these months hiding myself under baggy rags in case someone tried to make a quick dollar, never thinking I’d actually make it, but here I was, with my tiny child in my arms. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t made a sound. He was still breathing.

Was he? I glanced down. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. I leaned my face close to feel his breath.

Still there. Still alive.

84% chance he’ll die tonight

The statistic flickered above me, as if I needed the reminder. I gave it the middle finger and walked faster.

84% chance he’d die. 16% chance he wouldn’t.

Holding tight to that thought, I kept moving. Had to get away from the busy streets.

Finally, I reached the park. I ducked through the broken gap in the gate, bending forward to protect my son’s head from the sharp metal. The air smelled different in here, a slight sweetness over top of the city’s rancid baseline.

Fast and quiet, glad for the first time for his silence, I beelined toward a grove of trees that grew so tightly together, I could barely squeeze into their center. I’d hidden there before. I spent a lot of my nights in this park.

As I twisted myself into my hiding place and settled us into the still-warm dirt, I heard something. The faintest mewl, like a newborn kitten.

Or a baby.

My heart skittered. I almost didn’t dare to look at him, terrified I’d imagined it. But of course I did.

His eyes were open. He made the noise again. Was he—could he be hungry?

Quickly, I freed a breast and got a drop of milk onto his lips. He choked for one terrifying second, then swallowed. A shiver of joy ran down my arms and, shaking, I gave him another drop. Again, he swallowed.

My son was eating. His eyes were open and he was eating.

All around the park, lights flickered off. The city went black. In the distance, someone screamed.

Doubled bets started now.

168% chance he’d die.

32% chance he wouldn’t.

I’d make that bet.