Response to RegularJOE's suggestion about a girl's life in the future. The years don't match and this is a very extreme example of school life in the far future
This is a story I wrote late last year. Inspiration for it came from George Orwell's novel '1984'. This story shows a very totalitarian future that strives on control and an lack of independence. There is no individuality or free will. But with every government or political power, there are those who are against it. And even less often, there are those who rise in opposition. It is a very bleak idea of the future but one can't help but ask ... What if?
You would think that the end of the school day was a joyous affair. Proles at Dalton Grange know different. None of us wanted to be born in this world. The Regime's imposition of their policies put Nazism to shame. We were no longer UK citizens but marionettes, every moved controlled by the Regime.
I made my way to my dorm on the third floor, footsteps exactly 3.75 inches apart like they want it. Pace no faster than 2.25mph, hands out of pockets, chin parallel to the floor. Exactly like they want it. Unimaginable horrors are inflicted on your being if one fails to comply. The Regime's military force, Vanguard, sends their youngest recruits, nicknamed Centurions, to patrol Dalton Grange. We are trained to be like them. We are trained to fight alongside Vanguard. To fight the wars of the Regime. Centurions are always armed, their bodies plated with titanium alloys, patrol the corridors, keeping a scrutinising watch on us, the proletariat. All movement within this institution is like clockwork, precise and synchronised. The slightest disturbance in routine will cause Centurions flocking around the prole, beating the independent thought out of him until he complies or dies. I once witnessed a Cent dropping a large brick on a prole's head because he searched his pockets for his Cell. No one could bear to lift that cuboid of stone to reveal the horrors beneath it. The next day, everything was cleared and his existence was wiped off from the Registry and therefore, wiped off from society.
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it and sighing with relief. Everyday, I was lucky to be alive. There was nothing more I wanted than to lie down. I rolled up my grey cotton sleeves. Bruises already began to form after today's lesson in AP Martial Arts. Shaking my head, I approached the bed inside my small prison ce- I mean, dorm. A sheet of paper rested on the scratchy sheets. The entire bed still glowed with a dangerous fiery hue. Slowly, I lifted the paper up and jerked my hand away when it came in contact with the sheets. A sharp electrical jolt of pain pierced my fingertips. It is not bedtime. The proles are have Lights Out at 10:34, accurate to the minute. The heat field around the bed was never turned off beforehand. Similarly, the heat field snaps back on to wake us up. My back has many burn marks from attempting to sleep in a minute earlier. Dalton Grange students have learned to awaken earlier than the 7:26 to avoid being hurt. I backed away, holding the paper close to my dull grey shirt. Still really warm from the electrical bed. I leaned against a wall and unfolded the sheet of paper. The top of it was stamped with a red circular insignia. It was filled in with criss-crosses of small curving tendrils. The letters KA were inked on top of it. I read the writing beneath the insignia aloud. My eyes travelled further down the page and scanned every word. "Kilien Academy." I said aloud.
As soon as that last syllable left my lips, two startling thuds on my door made me jump. A Cent burst through my door, armed and armoured as always. My eyes narrowed as I ran a hand through my tightly bound mahogany hair. Feeling strangely calm, I spoke in a level voice. "You're the one they sent to kill me? What did I do this time?" He said nothing, lifting his arms and bent them to reach for the rifle clipped to his back. I closed my eyes and wanted for him to press the cold metal barrel to my forehead. I heard the click of what I recognised as the clips holding his gun unfastening. My fists clenched tightly until my knuckles whitened. Faces filled the darkness in my head. Regrets. Things I said. Things I never said. Things I should have done. I squeezed my eyes even more. This Cent was really dragging it out, indubitably enjoying the sight of my vulnerability. After a while, I opened my eyes tentatively. The Centurion stood there with his helmet tucked under his arm. My eyes widened. He was the first Cent to have ever revealed his appearance to a props. Doing so is social suicide. I relaxed a bit.
"Kilien Academy." he said with a young velvety voice. "You were accepted. I nodded hesitantly, bearing in mind that he could still kill me. Curiously, I took in his appearance. His lightly sun-tanned skin was tarnished with fading battle scars, slightly deforming his face. His chestnut hair was military cut, of course and his-
"Ms. Benoit!" the Cent snapped impatiently.
"Sorry, what?" I asked innocently.
"Do you know what this school offers?" he asked with intimidating seriousness.
"Erm …" I looked at the letter. "Quality education, comfortable living spa-"
"Do you see a Regime or Vanguard seal on it?" he cut in.
"Interrupting is rude" I snapped. He shot a condescending look my way.
"Sorry." I said with an exasperated sigh. "I didn't."
"Kilien Academy isn't supported by the Regime. Or approved."
He moved his hands, beckoning me to keep going. My eyes darted around the room as I thought about it. Then a jolt of realisation struck me. "Freedom." I said, lifting my moss green eyes to meet his dark hazel ones. I continued, not giving him a chance to reply. "No training for a war no one understands. No constant fear."
"It's 3057, Ms. Benoit. Freedom is illegal."
"Luciella." I interjected. "Ms. Benoit makes me feel old." He gave me a pointed look.
"Sorry. I see your point." I said, nodding my head slowly. "So how do I get to Kilien Academy without being killed?"
"I'll take you there." he said simply. I looked at him with bewilderment.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked, my voice laced with shock. He looked towards the electrical bed, saying nothing for a long time.
"Don't bother packing. They provide everything you need there." he finally said as he brought the helmet down on his head.
"So what do I call you?"
"Braxton. Take your hair out of the bun." he ordered sharply, fixing the gloves on his hands.
"Do you want to leave or not?" he interrupted impatiently.
Hesitantly, I lifted my hands to the back of my head, removing the band that held my hair up. "I'm not allowed to do this." I said softly as my dark brown hair fell in waves to my waist.
"I know. Follow my lead." he lunged for me, grabbing a fistful of my hair. "Hey!" I yelled, attempting to swat away his hands as I made exclamations of protest.
"Good." he said softly. "Let's get out of here." he pulled on my hair lightly and I took that as a sign to follow him. He "dragged" me out of my took and I continued to scream, the Kilien letter bunched up in my right hands. I looked around. None of the other primes gave so much as a second glance. Cents looked at Braxton and I, most likely snickering behind the glass of their helmets.
"Hey Brax!" one of them yelled out and be lightly pushed my head. I dropped to my knees, clutching the letter to my chest as my hair formed a curtain over my face. "What did she do?" I bean to make soft weeping sounds for effect.
"Defied dress code and wrote journals badmouthing us all."
"Is that the page she's carrying?" the Cent asked, his voice muffled slightly by the helmet.
"One of them. Let me deal with her now." Braxton emphasised "her" with a tone of sheer contempt.
"Sure. Good job, man." He grabbed my hair again.
"Get up." Braxton spat.
"No, please!" I yelled as he pulled me to my feet.
"In." he commanded. I looked up and saw elevator doors opening. I stumbled in and the doors shut as soon as Braxton stepped through. I straightened up with a smirk. He hit the ground floor button.
"Nice job." he said.
"I should be an actress." I grinned, laughing brightly. I heard him chuckle a bit too. It was a nice sound. "I've never used the elevator before." I said with a bit of wonder in my voice. The elevator began to slow to halt. "Push my back." I said with a quick smile before lowering my head and letting my hair fall over my face. The doors opened with a ping and Braxton did as I said. I fell out of the elevator, crashing to my knees again
"Up." he growled as he grabbed my shirt.
"Stop! Please. I'm sorry!" I said, whimpering a little just to sell the scene. He hauled me to my feet as we make out way to the front doors. Freedom.
"There they are! Get them!" a gruff voice yelled. Or not. I whirled around and saw multiple Cents, reaching for their guns.
"How did they-"
"Run!" He grabbed my wrist with the leather gloves coating his hands and we sprinted through the doors. "The elevators were bugged!" he hissed.
Shots were fired.
I ducked my head as we ran. Blue flashes of light whipped past us, burning holes into the ground. A black vehicle hovered outside of the school grounds.
"There! Go!" Braxton shouted as I pushed my legs to go faster. I felt a suck of heat skim past my knee. I looked down, seeing my grey trouser leg with a gaping hole, embedding at the edges. The car was less than six feet away. The blue glow on the underside of the vehicle ebbed away, letting it drop to the ground. The Kilien Academy insignia was stamped to the corner of the window. "Almost th-" A small thud cut Braxton from talking. His grip on my wrist loosened.
"Braxton?" I asked worriedly. I heard a soft sigh emanate from his helmet. His hand left my wrist altogether. He fell to his knees, the titanium pads colliding with the tarmac with a soft thud. The rest of his body followed suit, Braxton landing flat on his stomach.
"Hide us! Please!" I yelled to the car in desperation. I could hear the mechanical whirring of the black vehicle as it rose into the air and moved around Braxton and I, parking in front of us and shielding us from the incoming plasma. I pulled the helmet from Braxton's head. I noticed the hole burned into the back. I tossed it to the side and pushes Braxton onto his back. A pool of blood began forming from the back of head. His sightless eyes stared heavenward and I sighed, putting my head in my James.
"I'm sorry, Braxton." I said, my voice breaking as tears threatened to leak out. With a soft click; the door of the vehicle flew open.
The interior of the car was also black. I could see no one in it. I grabbed Braxton's arms, lifting him up slightly as I walked backwards into the car. With a great amount of effort, I pulled Braxton onto the seats of the car. I lifted his head, siting down and resting it on my lap. It would be cruel to leave him there. My eyes lifted to the driver's seat, only being able to make out a silhouette. I could feel his warm crimson blood staining my clothes. I forbade myself from crying, stating at the back of the driver's seat. The thuds of the plasma hitting the side of the car seemed incredibly distant.
"Let's go." I whispered in a cracked voice. The door of the car shut quietly and the car lurched forward.
"What is your plan for the boy?" asked a cold metallic female voice, like the kind one would hear a when a woman speaks through an amplifier during protects. Women like that never live to see the end of the day.
I gave no answer and just turned my head to look out of the tinted window. There was no more green except for the belts we were awarded in AP Martial Arts. Tall, white buildings whipped past us. Cars similar to the one I sat inside followed behind us. Pace no faster than 43mph, windows rolled up. Exactly like they want it.
Independent thought is forbidden.
Freedom is illegal.
As the car took me to a place that epitomised "life changing", I think about the people I left behind. Could they have been saved from the Regime? My eyes fell to Braxton's lifeless figure. I closed his eyes with my alabaster fingers.
I guess, in this world, only the dead are truly free
Created: Apr 19, 2014MissyLuntao97 Document Media