Abandoned World: The Awakening

Because they all went to sleep and woke up not remembering anything, not even their own names, which they then proceeded to pick out from fashion magazine catalogs and movies and whatever else they could find. And when she was then asked what name she wanted for herself, she said "Natalie." She loved that song, with that name, where someone sang in what she now knew to be Spanish that name, as if gently embracing her. She wanted so much to be hugged then, too, and repeated that word all the time. It seemed so light, airy and charming… But when she grew up, she noticed that they didn't treat her so romantically… And some relief came when she tried to drink. She was tired from work and regolith research during the day, so she took a bottle of whiskey she was entitled to, and drank a little of it. Then she wanted to sleep almost immediately, so she lay down and listened to the song "Natalie" in her mind, dreaming of being held in the arms of a nice man.

— What did you try? — Morgan turned around and asked.

— Whiskey. It's still in my closet… It's probably dried up by now.

— Good thing my staff can't hear that," Morgan grinned, took out a bottle and poured two glasses from the bottle, then took out another and poured the same amount into each glass, then tossed ice cubes into them and took them both and returned to the couch.

— Is this cocktail just like in the movies? — sniffing the liquid, the girl asked.

— Well almost… I think they were doing things differently though. What we make here is obviously more synthetic than real. We're more imitating the flavor than producing it. Just like alcohol itself, actually. With the ancients it was therefore quite harmful, and with us it's safe, while giving the same effects… Well, if you don't overdo it, of course. If you do, I guess our disadvantages are even worse than those of real whiskey.

Everyone knew the story. One of the chiefs of the security section, Reagan Cross, was suffering from what the ancients called alcoholism. Everyone, in general, didn't mind it, because he performed his duties the same as before. He did not miss anything, did everything according to the rules, and what he did in his free time, no one really cared. Maybe that's why his passions crossed the line. The very line when one day he didn't show up at his post in the morning. They sent for him and when they entered his room, they saw that everything was turned upside down and he had cut himself with a broken bottle neck. Those photos were shown to everyone to show them what excessive alcohol consumption can lead to. And they were not even afraid to criticize the fact that only the highest administration had access to alcohol in such quantities — they pretended that he had stolen those bottles secretly. In short, the decisions of the elders, as always, turned out to be correct

— alcohol should be dosed with coupons, and violations lead only to death.

— With memories like that, I wouldn't be thirsty. — Natalie moved the glass away from her, but didn't put it back on the table.

— But I don't think you're going to be able to taste what I just made anytime soon. It's very mild, just a little stupefying. — Morgan himself took a little taste and showed me how to taste it with his tongue. It was very infectious.

Natalie took a small sip, and the initially icy liquid began to warm inside after a couple seconds — he was right. It was a very mild flavor indeed, and just relaxing. She'd always thought whiskey was very tart and more of a man's drink.

— And how often do you stir such things? — the girl asked.

— Not really… When I see that the conversation is difficult to get into.

— So you think we're having a difficult conversation? I thought you were gonna tell me about Tosca? Or am I? Was I wrong?

— You can… After all, there are no witnesses here. And there's something I can tell you that doesn't violate any secrecy in any case… The cells there are really all as they are described: a sink, a toilet and a bed. And they're kept there most of the time. But, firstly, from there they take you out for a walk in a separate room — there are no windows, but there is a glass-covered ceiling, through which you can watch the starry sky, like in our dining room, only smaller. Secondly, it is not quite dreary there, because they turn on the radio in the morning when you get up, in the afternoon and in the evening before you go to sleep. And, finally, thirdly, those who don't go out of there don't really continue to sit there either… This, of course, can already be called a secret, but if you tell anyone, they won't believe you anyway. Although I don't think you'd want to tell anyone.