Dümped

When Sandra got home, Kevin was packing. A suitcase and two duffel bags sat in the living room.

She hesitated at the doorway before stepping inside.

In the bedroom, Kevin was folding a shirt, his movements steady, practiced.

"Is this because of your SVI score?" Sandra asked. She sat on the bed, watching him.

Kevin didn't look at her. "That's not why we're breaking up. This has been coming for a long time. I tried—we both tried. But the resentment you felt for me is what brought us here."

Sandra swallowed hard. "I don't—"

When he finally turned to face her, his expression was unreadable. But when he saw the tears in her eyes, something in him softened.

Hesitantly, he sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She let her head rest against his chest and cried until exhaustion pulled her under.

By the time she woke up, Kevin was gone.

And she cried again.

The next day, Sandra went to work. She was behind the counter, scanning barcodes and forcing herself not to check her phone, when a woman approached.

She had never seen her before. Sleek black dress, clipboard in hand.

"Iris," the woman said. "Harmony's assistant."

Sandra's stomach sank. Harmony—her boss. Being summoned to her office was never good.

Still, she followed.

The office smelled like disinfectant. Harmony's desk was pristine, not a single thing out of place.

Sandra barely had time to sit before Harmony turned a tablet toward her. A video was playing.

Her breakup, Kevin walking out on her in the restaurant. Her dirty laundry was public and any and everyone could see.

Sandra's breath hitched.

Harmony leaned back in her chair. "I think you should be in the aisles for a while."

Sandra stared at her.

"We don't want the attention," Harmony continued. "And I don't think you do either."

Sandra did as she was told and spent the rest of her shift in the back. She kept her head down, finished her work, and left without a word.

When she got home, she barely had the energy to turn on the lights. As she stepped inside, her foot landed on something.

An envelope.

She picked it up and tore it open.

NOTICE OF RENT INCREASE

Her $800-a-month apartment was now $1,200.

Sandra exhaled sharply. She wasn't happy about it, but maybe this was an opportunity. She didn't need a two-bedroom place anymore.

She grabbed her laptop and started searching for a new apartment. Most of the places she liked were out of her budget, but then she found one—a perfect one-bedroom, not far from work. She called immediately and booked a showing.

The next day, Sandra met the leasing agent in front of the building.

"Hey, I'm Mercy. I'll be showing you the apartment," the woman said, shaking her hand.

The place was perfect—cozy, clean, and affordable.

"I'll take it," Sandra said.

"Great! That'll be a thousand dollars for the security deposit."

Sandra frowned. "The ad said rent is $800. Why is the deposit more?"

Mercy hesitated. That was when Sandra noticed the fine print. The increased deposit was because of her score.

The SVI score.

Sandra's stomach twisted. She really wanted this apartment, but something about this felt… off.

"I'll think about it," she said.

Instead, she ended up renting a hostel nearby.

The hostel was filled with college students. Loud, messy, constantly buzzing with energy. She hated dealing with them at work—now she had to live with them too.

Had she made a mistake turning down the apartment?

"It could be worse," she muttered to herself.

A few days later, on her way to work, she ran into someone she hadn't seen in years.

"Herman?" she called out, smiling. "It's been a long time! It's me—Sandra, from Georgetown."

Herman turned, eyes bloodshot. He reeked of alcohol.

"Sandra?" He blinked, then let out a dry chuckle. "What are you doing here?"

"I just moved in," she said.

He snorted. "I guess even Sandra Benson gets dumped."

Before she could respond, he walked away.

Sandra stood there, stunned.

By the time she got to work, she had heard the word twice more. Dumped.

She finally asked some college students what it meant. Their explanation left her cold.

The dumped.

A label given to people deemed invaluable by the system. The ones who fell through the cracks. Cast out. Overlooked. Eventually ending up broke, homeless, forgotten.

Sandra's stomach turned. She kept reading.

Her search led her to a site called Nullify. A forum.

She registered.

Inside, there were millions of people. Discussions. Stories. Warnings.

Her pulse quickened.

"How didn't I know about this?"

As Sandra read through the stories on Nullify, a chilling thought settled in her mind.

"Is this going to be my life?"

She refused to accept that.

If Nullify was a blueprint for being Dumped, then maybe it could also be a blueprint to get Undumped.

A few days later, she learned about a Nullify meeting. She decided to go.

It was being held in a neighborhood called Shaken—a place the government had deemed unworthy of repair. Earthquakes had shattered buildings, splitting streets in half. What remained was a fractured, skeletal city, half-buried in its own ruins. Those who had nowhere else to go lived among the wreckage.

Every now and then, the authorities raided the area, arresting and imprisoning residents.

Sandra had never set foot in Shaken before.

When she arrived, she stopped in front of a rusted gate leading into a partially collapsed building. A man stood by the entrance, arms crossed.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

Sandra took a steadying breath. "Large coffee. Four sugars. Two creams. Shaken, not stirred."

The man studied her for a moment, then pulled the gate open.

She stepped inside.

It was like entering another world. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of cheap food. People huddled in small groups, speaking in low voices. Some sat on crates, others leaned against broken walls covered in graffiti.

Sandra immediately felt out of place.

She had dressed casually—jeans, a white shirt, a denim jacket—but it was clear she didn't belong. People glanced at her, and she could feel their unspoken judgment.

Had she done something wrong?

"I bet you're wondering what you did wrong."

Sandra turned. A man stood beside her, dressed… exactly like her.

She blinked, looking him over, then glancing down at herself.

He smirked. "How much did your shirt cost?"

"I got it on sale. Two ninety-nine." She checked the fabric as if something was wrong.

"Fifty bucks," he said, tugging the collar of his own shirt.

Sandra frowned. "What?"

"That's why you stand out." He grinned. His smile was infectious.

Despite herself, she smiled back.

"I'm Ray"

"Sandra"

They introduced themselves.