𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+] ✔

3

One Year Later

"Babe, are you done with my work clothes?" Robbie yells out in frustration, pacing in the bedroom. I roll my eyes, turning off the iron, and checking that I've flattened out all the creases. As I carry them in on a hanger, he huffs and snatches them from my hand. "Thanks," he says in a blunt tone, nearly shouldering past me to go to the bathroom.

We've been living together for the past eight months. My dad eventually gave in and let us have one of the VIP houses along from his.

I'm still adjusting to everything. In the beginning, I didn't have a clue how we could all survive. But after a long meeting that my dad had with the entire town, I have felt more at ease.

He addressed several issues, several changes, and what he's doing to benefit everyone.

Being an inventor of anything energy, which controls the entirety of the dome, his ideas sounded bizarre, but he pulled most of them off.

His current work in progress is finding a way to prolong the oxygen we have in the bunkers underground, alongside the generators that keep the dome operating via the solar panels. He calculated that with a population of three hundred odd people, the supply we have would last ten years —nine now.

He's working on a filtration system with a team of scientists, testing ways to bring the outside air in, but with it being highly contaminated and deadly from the unearthly entities left behind, all tests so far have failed.

It took him months to create a suit that could withstand the outside environment for a maximum of five minutes before it started to dissolve, meaning scientists could walk around outside with rods to test the toxicity levels, searching for any sign of life.

Apparently, there's an area between Mars and Jupiter called the asteroid's belt, where thousands of them had broken off and headed straight for us. According to research my dad had been doing for years, the large meteorites that withstood the blazing journey completely wiped out the entirety of Europe. We have no contact with the outside world to see if there are any survivors elsewhere, concealed within the glass house with no hope.

The deadly levels still haven't dropped, and with my dad becoming worried about life expectancy, he ordered that no one procreate as a growing population would only diminish supplies faster. He promised that he's working on it and as soon as it's successful, the population can increase in a healthy, non-threatening way.

Satellites vanished too, so there's no signals or Wi-Fi. Mobiles were crushed and recycled into wrist bands that basically control everything. The small thin straps of metal can't be removed, not unless you want to be locked out of your house, lose out on food deliveries, and be taken off the census reports done every three months.

Our house is pretty strange, too. I'm still trying to figure out how everything works. Each one in the VIP zone is large, has more advanced technology than the others. The front is all plain metal, no windows, just an electric door that only opens with the wristband, and locks as soon as you enter. The sides and back of the house are all panoramic, open to the neighbour beside you to see in, which is awesome when I need to do the naked run when I forget a towel.

The wristbands are also a way of communication. With pre-recorded and live holographic images that stream from the band or the projectors built-in to the corners of each room, they create a living three-dimensional form in front of you.

Not long ago, I was using the bathroom when Eric popped up, pre-recorded thankfully, talking about security breaches while I casually took a dump.

With just my luck, Eric is my neighbour, the head of security who has hated me from the moment he was taken on by my dad. I don't know why he looks me up and down with disgust whenever he sees me or regards me with a crappy tone, but if he intrudes on my privacy one more time, I might hurt him.