Food Run – Work in Progress

This is a work in progress from my one buddy. Still thinking of a good pseudonym for him so he’ll stay anonymous for now.

Preface

The year is 2048 and famine ravages the continental United States grip due to untreated climate change and the reemergence of pandemic level diseases. Massive droughts have ravaged the central and western part of the country resembling the Dust Bowl of the 1930s destroying its most valuable resources like gain, Tyson Foods and General Motors. After the Second American Civil War, the overextended superpower lies in ruins. Crumbling infrastructure, lack of funding towards proper education and the corporate consolidation of both the government and the military push her citizens towards power hungry political action committees. Due to the massive influx of new members these committees form influential Unions to further cement their strength and continuously raise urgent financial support. Fanatical religious organizations also manifest seemingly overnight as people retreat back into their ancient laws and both groups unify the middle and lower classes. These goal driven organizations attract millions seemingly overnight. As some powerful groups quickly radicalize their constituents, domestic acts of terror sweep the nation spreading fear among citizens and officials alike. Due to the rapid balance of power and threatened by national insecurity the United States steps down as the leader of the United Nations and slowly becomes an isolated country to consolidate its resources. Recognizing that the United States is vulnerable, China and Russia take action. From its economic successes of its own industrial revolution, China uses its recently acquired wealth and sheer manpower to build a massive navy in secret. Years earlier while American forces abroad were being brought home to fight in the Second American Civil War, Russia wrestled control of the oil fields away from Saudi Arabia through political savviness and occasionally brute force while building a stronger relationship with OPEC. With this new-found wealth and with the help of China, the Russian Imperial Navy was reborn. The opportunity could be ignored and both countries agree to a joint strike of the United States. In a simultaneous attack, China launches its fleet across the Pacific Ocean while the Russian Imperial Navy weaves its way through the melted ice of the Arctic Ocean. Under rushed deliberation, the U.S. chooses to use nuclear weapons against the rapidly advancing Chinese fleet yet refuses to use them against the Russians in fear of melting all of the ice in the Artic seas. American fleets are sent to counter the Russians in the North and the Chinese in the Pacific yet are still outnumbered 5 to 1 in both sectors. Once thought to be a safe and secure path in the military, recruitment to the United States Navy is now a death sentence. American morale is at a historic low while acts of vandalism are commonplace and widespread. Promised that their country was to be rebuilt after the Second American Civil War, food rations and indoctrinated labor further divide its people. After the advance of China and Russia are made public the evacuation of coastal cities like New York, Washington D.C., Los Angeles, and Seattle are underway in a panic.

Johnathan

“We get in and we get out. Stay together” his hands were white as he gripped the steering wheel

Everyone had been relocated five days ago but since our grandparents lived in Staten Island the process of getting them out had been excruciatingly difficult. The parkway had turned into parking lot and in certain sections large fights broke out furthering delays. You would think that with the general takeover of the automotive industry Tesla Highways would have been able to direct the flow of traffic in a more organized manner.

It was eerily quiet as we quickly parked outside of the Stop and Shop. More were doing the same in a rush to pick the super store clean. There were far more cars than we expected but we needed the food. When I was younger, I used to joke with my friends about how hungry I felt at certain points but nothing compared to how we felt now. We would never be able to make the journey in our condition and our rations were running low even before our house was broken into. Against my mom and my grandparent’s wishes, my father finally made the decision to pick up food from the closest and least looted super store. It was not a decision he made willingly but it was the only one we had left.

My father used to be a part of a Union. He never wanted to be, but like tonight he didn’t have a choice. With the rise of Corporate Consolidated America, his construction company was absorbed into one of the largest firms on the planet. With this new acquisition, CCA’s policies attempted to cut most workers paychecks in half and justified the action by promising future benefits. Within days the workers of my father’s former company rallied to a Union called Working Americans or WA, whose motto was, ‘If you have hands you can work, if you have minds you can unite”. My father reluctantly followed suit with his colleagues only to find that the Union itself was too politicized and most of the administrators were only looking out for themselves. So, he quit and was unceremoniously cut from the herd. Returning to the wages dictated by CCA, our rations were already the lowest they had ever been. When we found out that America was once again going to war my mother cried.

We briskly got out of the car and plunged into the cold March night. Our father turned to us

“Cathy stay right next to your brother and both of you stay right behind me.” My sister gave me a silent nod. I returned it and fell in behind our father weaving though the scattered cars. People with armfuls of groceries rushed by us with nervous glances. We walked faster.

Catherin was two years younger than me even though that rarely mattered anymore. She was always someone that could handle herself. Her brown hair was covered by a black skullcap to make herself look more like a boy, but she didn’t need much to give herself a masculine demeanor. Cathy was well aware of the dangers of coming with us. I always looked at her as my little sister but at the same time I couldn’t help but look at her as someone that I could follow. Captain of her volleyball team and an incredible ballet dancer, she never had a shortage of friends or missed an opportunity to take charge. I still never relented in telling her she couldn’t drive anything on four wheels safely though. She hated that but we got along really well. As I excelled in chess and stayed after school to tutor for money, she hit the gym

every day. Cathy’s competitive nature in high school promised a great future, a real future, but each day that fantasy felt like nothing more than a short-lived dream.

The inside of the Stop and Shop felt like a nightmare. Flickering florescent lights revealed panicked stragglers and families dashing from aisle to aisle. Ignoring the pile of shopping carts, we quickly walked towards the frozen food section. Two women were screaming at one another over a case of water while attempting to protect their meager shopping carts of paper towels, bread, and stale vegetables. A fat man sitting on the ground covered with stains near the bakery was surrounded by half eaten pastries and pies grotesquely stuffing his face. Most of the aisles that we passed were barren other than a few items that went unnoticed. A couple shelves had even fallen on top of one another or were leaning on each other, forcing people to search underneath them. None of us stopped as we continued towards our destination. We knew what we needed; any kind of pasta, any kind of frozen food, and any kind of canned food. We weren’t there to grab anything and everything. We were only there to take what we needed.

When we finally made it to the frozen food aisle there were only a few items left in the meat section. Zipping open Cathy’s backpack my father quickly tossed them in.

“I’m going to check the butcher’s shop for anything we can take. Check the refrigerators for any frozen food. We can reheat everything so take anything you can find” He went to leave but quickly came back and lowered his voice, “DO NOT go anywhere but here. I will be right back.” Then he was gone and the doors that led to the butcher’s shop slowly swayed behind him

Rushing over to the refrigerators we began scanning for food. “Chicken pot pies are good, right?” Cathy said as I picked up a lonely Hungry Man dinner from the bottom of a fridge and put it in my backpack

“He said anything” I quickly replied. From the corner of my eye I saw someone staring at me farther down the aisle, but I ignored the figure and continued to scan for food. I wasn’t sure how long we had already been inside of the Stop and Shop, but I felt more anxious than ever. Shouting could be heard near the registers of the store and a loud crash signified that another shelf had toppled over. A young man and a woman sprinted down the aisle carrying jugs of water and cans of food. As they flew past, the woman had dropped a few cans and didn’t return to pick them up. Without hesitation I ran to grab the cans of soup, beans and chicken broth and started rapidly putting them into my bag just in case the woman decided to come back. Suddenly a pair of beaten timberlands came into view on the floor.

“Don’t get up” said the owner of the boots “Give us your backpack and get the fuck out of here”

A second shorter man walked alongside him holding a hammer. One of the florescent lights down the hallway started to flicker

“Come on kid we don’t have all day” the taller man in the timberlands slowly revealed a knife “Let’s make it easy” Certain parts of his jacket had stains on it. I looked towards the butcher’s shop for my Dad, but the doors stayed still

Suddenly there was a sharp bang that made my gut tighten and sent my hands to my ears. The man holding the hammer stumbled to the right and crashed through one of the glass refrigerator doors. Unseen by the two men, Cathy was holding one of my father’s revolvers and aimed at the wiry assailant.

“Easy girl,” the lean man slowly put down the knife. “I’m not movin girl, you don’t have to do this, I just wanted some soup is all” he held out his hands in front of him and slowly started to backpedal. Shouting could still be heard near the front of the store as people frantically continued to run from aisle to aisle. No words were spoken as the man continued to slowly distance himself from us. The shorter man who was shot through both of his shoulders started to moan as he laid lifelessly in the glass doorway. I turned towards Cathy who looked back at me with shaken eyes, and in that moment the tall attacker sprinted away.

“Are you ok?” Cathy came to me on the floor and started to help me refill my backpack

“Where did you get that? Dad said we were supposed to keep those at home with Mom and Grandpa” It was true, on our way out our father made specifically sure not to bring anything to incriminate us but I couldn’t be more relieved that my sister didn’t listen.

“I thought we might need it” she responded quickly and helped me to my feet “I know the combination, so I just took one. Everything else is back home”

As New York burned during the Second Civil War, my father bought the family several firearms and kept them in a safe in our basement. The simple thought of having them in the house reassured our well-being but I never thought we were going to have to use them. My father did everything he could to make sure we didn’t.

“Where is he?” finding myself, I scanned the store hoping he had returned to us and hoping he had our second revolver as well, “We need to find him, we’ve got to go” It felt as though he had been gone for hours

“Let’s go to the back. It’d be easier to call him but after the service towers were shut down it’s almost impossible to—” All of the lights in the super store abruptly turned off, derailing Cathy and leaving us in darkness.

“It’s TNH! TNH!” suddenly bodies started to pour out of the butcher’s shop shouting in a panic, “TNH is in the back! Head to the front! TNH!”

In an act to consolidate funds after the war, The National Homefront was formed as a military arm of the government which comprised of the National Guard, the police, ICE and the FBI. Their broad responsibilities were stopping riots, providing aid to communities destroyed by storms, deporting illegal immigrants, silencing criminal activity, and eliminating all domestic threats to the nation. At the end of the Civil War they were presented as a beacon of hope yet their tactics proved otherwise. Their presence was not welcome.

“Dad? Dad!?” Cathy was thrown to the ground as the vigilantes charged through us. In the darkness it was impossible to catch a glimpse of anyone’s face. In a heartbeat they were past us and bright spotlights lit up the back windows. All over the store people were shouting as more dropped everything they came for and ran towards the front.

“We’ve got to go!” I shouted to Cathy as I frantically helped her up

“We can’t leave without Dad! We can’t leave him!” Tears started running down her face as she started to cry, “We can’t leave him!”

“We’ll come back!” Overcome with emotion I started to cry too, “They’re going to be all over here soon but we’ll come back! I promise!” It hurt so much knowing that it was a lie. I held out my hand in the dark and waited for her own. “Come on!”

Together we ran to the front. Nothing else was on my mind other than getting the hell out of there. My father was one of the most resourceful people I knew and I convinced myself that he was going to meet up with us again. Somehow, someway we were going to be together again. The promise I made Cathy might have been her only motivation to keep her moving forward, but keeping us together was my own. Finally reaching our destination, stagnant spotlights flooded the front, forcing us to crouch and stay hidden like the rest of the Stop and Shop marauders.

“What do we do?”

“God help us”

“We can’t go out there”

“They’ll hunt us down”

Terrified murmurs spread through the crowd like a virus. People desperately looked towards one another for answers only to find confusion. The painfully bright lights and the silence of TNH heavily emphasized the anxiousness that eroded us. Suddenly a voice broke through with a microphone.

“Citizens of the United States of America. You are in open violation of Article 32 of the New Constitution and are completely surrounded. Cease your actions and exit with your hands placed firmly behind your head. No bodily harm shall come to you and we only wish to ensure the safety of your fellow citizens. No one is under arrest until processed and we intend to return you to your homes or to the evacuation center of your choice. If you do not choose to comply, we will forcibly remove you in the condition that we see fit. This is your first and last warning. You have 45 seconds to comply. Thank you”

“45 fuckin seconds…?”

“What choice do we have?”

“No way am I going out there”

The declaration did nothing to soothe the hysteria inside. Sobbing could be heard throughout the group as all of our internal clocks ticked away. Wide eyed I turned towards Cathy but she didn’t say a word. She clung to my arm and I returned the gesture with a hug. Crouched in the darkness, our decision was made for us.

“DEUS VULT!” A man stood up with a shotgun and fired through the glass doors at the lights outside

Gunfire engulfed the Stop and Shop. More immediately stood their ground with an assortment of handguns and rifles to open up against the lights outside who then, in turn, responded with a wall of steel. Bullets tore through brick and mortar as if they were made of styrofoam. Dust and shrapnel were everywhere as projectiles hissed all around us. Before any of us had a chance to move from the crowded store front people were getting hit. Holding Cathy by the hand we both took cover behind a vending machine which proved to be a useless barrier. A line of bullets ripped through its front nearly hitting us

in the head. A man in a puffy winter jacket crawled by us holding his side as thick trails of blood marked his path. He was then suddenly hit by another bullet through the neck. A young woman attempted to run farther into the store but was shot by something so powerful that it took her arm off at the shoulder and hurled her into a shelf. Bodies laid motionless, twitching in agony or rolling around wounded as dust and smoke continued to fill the store. Taking cover behind a makeshift pile of shelves, dead and wounded, a middle-aged man emptied the clip of his rifle as he screamed only to be blown in half. Deeper in the store flashlights could be seen traveling towards the front, followed by bright yellow gunshots. I covered my eyes and begged it to stop. The world was overcome with red.

“LET’S GO! COME ON!” grabbing my hand Cathy pushed us to move. As the gunfight continued pockets of people began to make a run for it outside and we followed. Three directly in front of us went limp in a spray of pink mist as we hooked to the left to hopefully escape their fate. The small sliver of survivors kept quickly filing out behind us while one or two more were shot to pieces. Suddenly two huge explosions sent all of us to our knees. It felt as though I was hit in the head with a steel bat and all sound except a distinct ringing disappeared. The taste of blood started to realign my senses and a forceful hand attempted to help me to my feet. A sharp snap released me from its grasp and a body crumbled next to me. Gasping for air, I crawled as pain quickly returned. Hell continued to erupt behind me, and I started to feel welts forming all over my face and the rest of my body. Cathy was nowhere to be found as fear pushed me further away from the lights. I needed to get away. All was lost and I needed to get as far away as I could. In front of me two people were sprinting towards a row of houses to escape and I thought that one of them might be Cathy. One of them had to be Cathy. Pushing myself to my feet with a moan of despair I began to limp in the direction that they were running. As sound returned excruciating pain coursed through the rest of my body, but I couldn’t feel my left leg from the knee down. I needed to get away.

“STOP WHERE YOU ARE” an authoritative voice rang out behind me as flashlights lit up my back and revealed a broken shadow “ON YOUR KNEES!”

Obeying the soldiers, I capitulated. My outstretched hands went to my head and instinctively covered my ears in vain to stop the ringing

“HANDS ON YOUR HEAD. HANDS ON THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD MOTHER FUCKER!”

Suddenly a massive metallic body slammed me to the ground and forced an iron knee into my lower back.

“AMOS-588, CHECK FOR WEAPONS” as the soldiers surrounded me the robot quickly zip-tied my hands behind my back. Forcefully searching my entire body for anything that might be dangerous the machine found nothing of importance.

“SUSPECT IS UNARMED. SUSPECT NOW IN CUSTODY” responded the automated military operating system

“AMOS-588, escort suspect to the rest of the prisoners for documentation and questioning” the soldiers lowered their weapons

“AFFIRMITIVE”

Briskly pulling me to my feet, the metal soldier led me back towards the parking lot of the Stop and Shop. Adjusting to the light I caught a glimpse of what awaited us outside. Six armored cars and a light support tank had formed a horseshoe formation outside of the front of the Stop and Shop with all of their fury aimed towards the doors. Although most of the gunfire had finally stopped, spurts of small arms fire could still be heard inside of the building. TNH soldiers were all over the lot with dozens of them still behind their vehicles awaiting new orders. A sniper and his spotter sat on the hood of one of the armored vehicles with a cigarette in one hand and his massive rifle in the other. For a brief second, I felt as though his eyes were on me, but in a fearful instant it was gone. As the machine continued to drag me towards the back of the parking lot, two military trucks with their lights aglow revealed three lines of sitting refugees. Finally reaching the back of the line I was sat down beside them. Bleeding and utterly broken I scanned their faces for my sister. A man attempted to console his injured wife yet their zip-tied hands prevented any embrace. Another man with a shaved head and a bloody black eye kept cursing at the passing soldiers until one of them decided to hit him and continued to mercilessly beat him with no reaction from anyone else. Pools of blood were slowly forming around some of the prisoners but there was no medical personal in sight.

“He needs help!” screamed a girl through the moans of agony “If he doesn’t get help, he’s going to die! Somebody! Please!”

I turned in the direction of the cries and finally saw her. Cathy was towards the middle of the line directly across from me and was insisting that the man next to her receive medical attention. I immediately thought of my father but was too frightened to say anything.

“He saved my life! He saved my life and he’s going to die! Somebody please help him!” her cries could not have been more insignificant to the passing soldiers

“MEDICAL ASSISTANCE WILL BE PROVIDED AFTER PROPER IDETINIFICATION IS PRODUCED AND PROCESSED.” A passing AMOS coldly responded as it stood over her and silenced her cries for help

“AMOS-547 ignore all prisoners until commanded to do otherwise” the officer didn’t look up as he lazily typed notes into his tablet. Two more soldiers and another AMOS were in front of him picking apart their prey.

“AFFIRMITIVE” responded the AMOS and it fell in line alongside its metallic brother. After the machine had left her, Cathy’s eyes had finally met mine. Her beanie had fallen off showing her brunette hair. It didn’t hide the streak of road rash that covered the right side of her face or the stream of tears that came with it. My eyes started to swell too but as the interrogating officer drew closer, I forced myself to listen.

“Driver’s license, identification number and proof of address” asked the officer in a board tone. The two soldiers held the prisoner in place as the AMOS found what it needed. After locating his wallet, the machine’s metallic hands danced through his credit cards and papers for insurance until finding his proper identification to scan.

“AFFIRMITIVE. SUSPECT’S NAME IS CLAUD HUDSON. AGE 41. IDENTIFICATION NUMBER 3918270496. PLACE OF RESIDENCE IS 153 RADBURN ROAD FAIRLAWN NJ. CITIZENSHIP IS CONFIRMED” The AMOS then returned all of the cards back to their proper place inside of the wallet, put the wallet back inside of Claud’s jacket pocket and came to rest alongside the other AMOS in front of the officer.

“Very good.” Sarcastically responded the officer as he continued to take notes. Then he turned towards his prisoner, “Claud, you have been found guilty of violating Article 32 of the New Constitution and traditionally the punishment for your crimes of endangering the welfare of your fellow citizens and impeding their pursuit of happiness would be 8 years of indoctrinated labor yet due to the leniency of the United States government you will be brought to the closest recruitment center to be enlisted into the United States Navy. Do you have any questions?” The man he was questioning struggled to stand on one of his leg which was clearly broken

“Very good” responded the officer after a brief moment of silence, “Congratulations on your new position sailor.” Seeing that their interrogation had ended the two soldiers holding the man ungracefully dropped him to the ground and moved on to their next prisoner. Another soldier had come up to the officer.

“Carpenter, continue the questioning” demanded the officer to one of the interrogating sentries. He then turned towards the newly arrived soldier. “Give it to me Ramírez, what’s the damage”

“Sir we’re still mopping up the rest but the I-570s took out most of them at the front. At this time, we have 1 confirmed KIA, 6 wounded and 1 inoperable AMOS.” Responded the soldier while reading off of a smaller wrist bound tablet.

“Fucking hell, those damn machines are expensive. Alright, start drafting that report now. I want this cleaned up by tomorrow morning” replied the officer

“Yes sir.” the soldier with the tablet started to furiously type on his screen as he walked away. Taking a deep breath, the officer took off his helmet, wiped his brow and then returned to his duties

“…to be enlisted in the United States Navy. Do you have any questions?”

“I doubt it” responded the officer as he took away the cards from the AMOS and flipped through them. “Just move on to the next one” The interrogating soldier returned to picking up prisoners as the officer and his two machines moved on to their next victim.

“Driver’s license, identification number and proof of address” the officer folded his arms and waited for the AMOS to find his requested items

“AFFIRMITIVE. SUSPECT’S NAME IS ANDREW BARRON. AGE 34. IDENTIFICATION NUMBER 4171240545. PLACE OF RESIDENCE IS 297 EAST GRAMERCY PLACE GLEN ROCK NJ. FINGERPRINT MATCH FOUND ON HOSTILE WEAPON LOCATED AT CURRENT CRIME SCENE. CITIZENSHIP REVOKED.”

“Noooo!” Cathy cried out in sheer desperation as she fought to free herself from the zip-ties. “He did nothing wrong! He was trying to protect me! Please don’t hurt him!”

Noticing my sister, the officer turned in her direction. Silence overcame them as the soldiers and their war machines awaited his next move. Finally, the officer made his decision.

“Andrew is as good as dead. He won’t recover from those wounds, save a bolt and move on to her.” The two soldiers dropped the blood-soaked man and pulled my sister to her feet. “AMOS-547, Divers license, identification number and—”

“The gun was mine!” my sister cried as the AMOS continued to search through her wallet, “The gun was mine and he took it to protect me. Please help him, let him go!” Andrew was slumped over on his side, but his now audible wheezing indicated that he was very much alive.

“AFFIRMITIVE. SUSPECT’S NAME IS CATHERINE LEWINSKI. AGE 16. IDENTIFIACTION NUMBER 7240918258. PLACE OF RESIDANCE IS– ”

“AMOS-586 check for weapons” inquired the officer to his second robot as the identification process continued.

“–11-39 SADDLE RIVER ROAD FAIRLAWN NJ. FINGERPRINT MATCH FOUND ON HOSTILE WEAPON LOCATED AT CURRENT CRIME SCENE. CITIZNENSHIP REVOKED.”

The AMOS that was searching her ripped off her jacket as it continued. Blood dotted the outside of her white shirt which was crudely lifted to see if there was anything incriminating around her waist. A long streak of road rash covered her stomach and side matching the wound on her face. Finding nothing but blood and torn skin the AMOS relinquished and fell back in line. Taking one last look at her papers the officer came face-to-face with my sister who continued to struggle with her zip-ties.

“The following questions are to be analyzed by our operating systems. Your pulse, blood pressure, heart rate, facial expressions, response time, and body temperature will be monitored. If you lie, we will know. If you exaggerate or distort any information we will know. All scan results will be instantaneous. Do you understand?” I couldn’t see the officer’s face, but his tone was inhumane. The soldiers holding Cathy stiffened.

“Are you or have you ever been a part of any government agency designed to undermine the security of the American people and their way of life?”

Silently and slowly my sister answered, “No”

“Are you or have you ever been a part of the Union who calls itself The Reprisal of Rights?”

Again, my sister answered, “No”

“Are you or have you ever been a part of the fanatical religious organization who calls itself Sons of Solomon?” Tension filled the air

“No…please no” terrified she broke into tears once more

The officer took a step back and took off his helmet to run a hand over his bald head. The soldiers holding Cathy loosened their grip in relief. Turning towards his machines he issued his commands.

“Alright everything checks out. AMOS-586, terminate criminal.”

“AFFIRMITAVE”

In one motion the AMOS placed its wrist attached captive bolt pistol against her head and fired.

“NOOOOOO!” I screamed in anguish. The officer’s head snapped in my direction. As he turned the machines followed, both pivoting simultaneously after analyzing their target.

Ignoring the other prisoners, the officer strode towards me with purpose. My world instantly became much smaller. With each step he took I felt my life escaping my body and was instantly reminded of the meagre lives we had before this. The two soldiers holding what used to be my sister ungraciously dropped her to the ground and fell in behind their commander. No prisoner looked up nor responded to my cries; only him. Like a never-ending nightmare, he continued his approach.

“Divers license, identification number and proof of address” I was instantly lifted to my feet as the officer asked the question. Pain shot throughout my body as I was instantly reminded of the welts caused by the I-570 stingmore riot mines. My moans of agony and despair were ignored.

“AFFIRMITIVE. SUSPECTS NAME IS JOHNATHAN LEWINSKI. AGE 18. IDENTIFICATION NUMBER 7240893073. PLACE OF RESIDENCE IS 11-39 SADDLE RIVER ROAD FAIRLAWN NJ. BLOOD RELATIVE OF TERMINATED CRIMINAL CATHERINE LEWINSKI. CITIZENSHIP CONFIRMED.”

The officer took a moment to process the information. He then chose his words carefully.

“I’m sorry that your sister did this to the two of you tonight. Not all of us can be strong in times like these.” He spoke loud enough for the rest of the prisoners to hear. “Not everyone can withstand the cleansing tide and your crimes violating Article 32 is enough evidence to show that.”

Turning back towards me he spoke with cold indignation

“Men ought either to be indulged or utterly destroyed, for if you merely offend them, they take vengeance, but if you injure them greatly, they are unable to retaliate, so that the injury done to a man ought to be such that vengeance cannot be feared.”

Removing his handgun from his holster he continued speaking. My fate had been sealed.

“In accordance with Article 31 of the New Constitution and being of the proper rank and class I revoke your citizenship to the United States of America. You are charged with—”

A searing hot flash ignited the sky quickly silencing the officer. Night became day as the parking lot was brilliantly lit with an intensely hot light stemming from the east. Everything that held color was instantly drained from its hue. I attempted to cover my face from the insufferable heat but even as I closed my eyes, I could see the outlines of my bones in my arm. Nothing could withstand the scorching light as my skin started to quickly blister. An earth-shattering explosion shook the ground beneath us.

Jason

He couldn’t draw his eyes away. With each pulse of the reverberating music her fluid hips swayed. Did he even have a choice? The thought of breaking from her grasp felt like an amusing comfort movie, dreamt by a child with a heart larger than his own sense of survival. There was no place for innocence. She turned her slender body to face him slowly, advancing with each graceful step. The neon lights rose and fell over her micro-fibered skintight dress.

“Getting comfortable Jason?”

Despite the music pounding outside of the walls of their private room, her voice seemed to carry through the scented air. Jason nodded his head, transfixed in silence as she twisted and turned her way onto his lap. Smoothly bringing him close with her hands, she ran her fingers through his scalp firmly but gentle. Her body moved simultaneously with each pull and stroke of his hair.

Man is inevitably slave to his desires. It is unavoidable. Try holding your breath for as long as you can. How long can you last? A minute or two? You’ll finally allow yourself that desperate release but the truth is that you were already breathing through your nose 10 seconds ago. Your body wills itself to live independently from your knowledge of it. Man’s survival has only come this far because of it. There is no other way. Jason looked towards the ceiling of the small room and grasped the arms of the cushioned chair that consumed him. Where have I seen a ceiling like this before? The bronze inlaid squares climbed to the center of the circular cove and gave off a dominant hue that seemed to drain the life from him.

He closed his eyes and let her do her worst. Every smooth stroke, velvet kiss, and soft whisper soothed his body yet tortured his mind. Outside of their room the pace of the music surged and the pulse of the beat began to increase in speed. She danced herself off of him to the middle of the room with a smile.

“I think you’re going to like this Ja-“

“Hestia cease activity and end session” suddenly the dazzling beauty froze in place.

“Activity Ceased. You will be charged with an early termination fee according to your station. Thank you”

Standing up Jason circled the Mark VIII, examining her luxurious cervices with pained interest. It was the peak of human innovation and it was nothing human. From the freckles that bridged her nose to the rose petal touch of her hands, they were calculated characteristics made in an assembly line to please an endorphin driven lifeform. It was madness, yet here he was again analyzing, chastising, and attempting to convince himself he was above it all. During his inquisition the music continued to pound. Screams of delight roared to the sounds of a bellowing DJ beyond the walls of their room. The Mark VIII didn’t seem to notice. The Mark VIII didn’t seem to notice anything. Ashton stared into her loving green eyes with disdain.

“You are not alive” his tone was soft and insincere

As Jason finally left, he made his payments through his wrist cell. From the double doors of the privacy room the nightclub greeted him like an unforgiving acquaintance. The dark purple black lights of the warehouse brought out ghastly skin tones, blood red lipstick, and neon-tattoos in the maneuverable crowd. Men and women hung from the ceiling and contorted themselves in cages and on platforms to

the pulse of the music in positions once thought unimaginable. Atop the stage danced LED clad courtesans that circled through cold smoke and shot fire from their mouths and hands. A half-naked neon-clad escort carrying slender drinks on a tray drew his attention and without looking Jason acquired one as she passed by.

Animals playing pretend he thought to himself

He sauntered through them uninspired by the astounding sites that surrounded him. On one table a Mark VIII was removing certain limbs and connecting them once more in an aerobatic display of sexual prowess while another pair moved in a choreographed dance with snakes. No one said a word, yet everyone communicated like a synchronized engine. The constant music, the rhythm of their world, lead them through the loosely connected gathering, bonding them through their unashamed euphoria. After all, each of them had chosen to leave the apocalypse that tortured them behind. No one thought that the oil tycoons would be able to assimilate as easily as they did, nor did they think that the tech giants of the United States would bend to aerospace policy. Each massive mogul’s ego was larger than the next and it was only the threat of total annihilation that made each one of them reluctantly negotiate what they would receive. Some would say, more importantly, contribute.

El Dorado was merely just an idea for the longest time; a concept of last resort. Its inception finally became a reality as the foundations of the Second American Civil War bled itself into history. If there is anything that can be said about the world’s wealthiest 0.1% it’s that they are patient. When the insect populations that maintained our food supply died out, they did not waiver. When wildfires were burning through vegetation faster than we could ever have replaced them they remained unmoved. Even as entire land masses were consumed by the oceans, their callused indifference was a deafening silence. In all of this time, while people held onto their livelihoods and looked towards the heavens for answers, our “saviors” were doing the same, only their eyes were set beyond God.

The self-sustaining interplanetary station was set to be finished by 2041 but rumors and conspiracy theories of El Dorado ran as wild as the doomed populace that never stood a chance of getting onboard. Unbeknownst to most passengers the expedited schedule meant that continued construction of the station was required while in use, but whatever susceptible danger threatened them up there paled in comparison to whatever threatened them on Earth. Most of the passengers never worried about the dangers of a hull breach. Why should they? They had just taken part in the most secretive and ambitious interstellar projects that man had ever created, housing the most intelligent beings that ever existed in a fraction of the time that it took for any major superpower to put a satellite into orbit.

With the globalization of the market came combined incomes of once unimaginable fortunes and naturally, a show of affluence followed. Jason had done much of his own exploring of the Creators District and from what he could tell it was close to being entirely made from white marble and touch-surface glass. It was meant to make you feel emotionally cleansed as you traversed the peak of human technological achievement. The inlaid wrist cells of the Creators District were slightly outdated compared to the retina cells of the Founders but you could still access dinner menus, opera schedules, or club venues simply by touching any part of the marble that graced the floors and furniture. He briskly retreated from The Factory though the pair of iron double doors as blue flames danced smoothly on either side of his exit.

The Creators District was well known for its extravagant parties, impressive wonders, and lavish spectacles. Even the hardest to impress graced its halls with satisfied impunity. Along with the endless parental marble, the station’s architectural beauty was a casual wonder that Jason inevitably beheld. Enormous windows lined the corridors whose view can be changed to any landscape from any time period during mankind’s existence. One could view the beaches of Hawaii before and after western influence, the mountain side of Pompeii before her eruption or, for some of the more imaginative, watch the siege and capture of Istanbul in real time. Hallways widened and varied with carbon-fiber staircases extending one way simply to re-tract to another yet the showcasing of each and every significant work of art that could have been saved from the old world was housed and protected dutifully throughout their vestibules. Certain exhibits were ambitious projects like the housing of the Pyramids of Giza, yet they were able to replicate the texture of the sand and wind near identically to how it was in the old world. Although they were the most numerous Creators were proud to call it home and spared no expensive to astonish all who visited. It was natural for them to be comically boastful, but most of them knew that their success was only capable with the coordination and help of the other districts as well.

As Ashton found what he had been looking for he slowed his pace. One of the enormous windows leading to his bastion showcased the curvature of the Earth. It was a view that gave him a mixed range of emotions that anyone in the station would find hard to describe. The sight aged him.

“Whenever you go missing, I always know where to look” With champagne in his hand Russo approached him with open arms

“Who said I wanted to be found?” the poet continued to stare into his green and blue enigma

“Well it’s not often that the Founders ever leave their district. Some might say that they’re right at home with the Creators, and frankly I thought they would be better received” Russo stood by his side as they stared into the old world

Mysterious as he may have seemed, Russo Tsan had played an instrumental part of Jason’s life. As the son of a Manchurian tech industrialist he had received the most exceptional education from across the globe. Unlike entrepreneurs of the past he selflessly found ways to funnel clients and successful start-ups back into the family that supported him which further propelled the Chinese markets to nearly inconceivable heights. One could simply say that he always knew when to be in the right place at the right time, but his studies in coordinating passive campaigns through the deep web made him a lead recruiter in finding the right candidates for El Dorado. Although he had contributed significantly less in monetary funds and resources, he directly coordinated those who could, eventually earning his title as the youngest Founder. Ashton remained silent as they gazed out of the window.

“Hard to imagine that this is just the beginning” continued Russo “Daily reports from the Guardians show that the Mars Colony finally established successful trade routes between all Protection Centers. Within three years they will be entirely self-sufficient.”

“Have they stopped using the Mark Vs to transport the hydrogen tanks? Would probably cut down on collateral damage. Those damn things were designed to kill, not to drive” Jason tapped the white marble and ordered himself another drink

“Well the Capital District seems to think they do a good enough job.” Russo followed Jason’s lead by ordering a drink of his own “And I’m sure the Guardians agree. No one wants to spend time designing a new automated pilot interface, they just want to finish what they started.” At waist height in front of both Ashton and Russo two spaces in the marble appeared. Occupying the white-lighted hollows were their drinks.

“Speaking of which” Russo took his glass and gave a congratulatory tip towards Jason’s direction, “Salutations to your new book. We were waiting for you to finish with great anticipation for quite some time”

“Good thing the Founders are known for their patience” Russo had waited for Jason to return the gesture yet was only greeted with an empty glass.

Laughing came easy to Russo yet he was always an admirer of Jason ever since their first interactions. Back when the internet was available to every citizen, untraceable VPN addresses explored the deep web like expeditions to an ice burg with a depth that went far unseen by the naked eye. Most people lived their entire lives without tapping into the occasionally sinister potential of the internet which is depicted most accurately through the deep web. Before Corporate Consolidated America and the UN each muscled their way into passing legislation to monitor all private, public, and global servers, certain individuals could find anything from mail ordered brides through human trafficking, to professional hitmen whose untraceable contracts changed intermittently at the buyer’s request. Yet in the confines and forums of the deep web Russo hunted for something more than just illegal transactions and contracts. He searched for individuals that shaped the world as we know it even if they didn’t. What he had found, or rather who he had found did not disappoint.

As the world burned so did the fires of Jason’s work. A novel on the French Revolution through the eyes of two young noblewomen made quite the impression in the upper echelons of the soon-to-be Founders. While persuaded monitorization gave them access to his works, the novel was a favored piece of the contemporary elites who admired it even more deeply as the general public burned books in the streets. The grotesquely accurate depictions of the Second American Civil War through Jason’s poetry could barely pay for new socks yet the most powerful and wealthy individuals who ever existed quarreled over which poem spoke most true. It was obvious that this was a man with a certain gift: a man to be preserved. Within their conversations, Russo had convinced him to enter a writer’s competition in which the winners would be contracted to a multinational publishing conglomerate. What he didn’t realize was that there were no other competitors. To an artist boiling his own leather belts for food it was an enticing opportunity.

“I never thought that the lives of wolves could be so interesting. The way that you give them life and their pack structure is just…remarkable” Russo stroked his chin in contemplation “What inspired you to write about them?”

“I thought it’d be obvious. Before I left, I felt as though I was a wild animal trying to survive. It wouldn’t be far from the truth, but I just imagined how I used to be.”

It wasn’t his most authentic work though. He had written it while he was wrapped in warm clothes staring amongst the stars in the deafening silence of the Creators District. It was a far cry from the library he used to sleep in front of in central Pittsburgh.

“Do you, or should I say, did you have friends down there in those days?” Russo very rarely asked about what his life was like before leaving earth. He either never got around to asking him or purposely iuavoided asking any questions that might hint towards Jason’s past. He most likely assumed the worst and wouldn’t be wrong for doing so. Neither of them cared. The ones who saw his potential were more interested in his talent, his art. There was a plethora of gifted people that adorned the Creators District and all of El Dorado for that matter. In the Guardian’s districts ingenious military minds still moved the pieces of war on the world below while still finding time to enjoy a dinner party and feebly attempt to describe their military prowess. Far surpassing the Creators District in the realm of possibilities and bent realities, the District of Knowledge may have held the most exotic of individuals whose sciences crafted the very station that bore them and each seemingly endless technological achievement on the station. Jason was well aware of his role, even before he was approached and passively coerced to join them after winning his fixed competition.

“Of course, I did” Jason said as he stared blankly out into the window “They weren’t much but they were mine. I can only hope that when their time came it was quick”

“You never know. If the wolves you wrote about are anything like your friends, they could still be down there. I’m pretty impressed at how they’re able to survive”

“For their sake I hope they aren’t” Jason paused as something caught his eye. A small light glowed in the corner of the globe, sparkling like its own star. They stood in silence as they stared outside of the glass. Visibly intoxicated party goers noisily sauntered themselves down the white marbled hall behind them. One of them with neon suspenders stops to urinate in a small divot in the wall as the group of them laugh and jeer. Finally, the crowd dissipates and the noise is nothing but a distant memory. The divot and the wall that was once covered in urine self-sanitizes.

A new biometric lung was being advertised across one of the many particle-visions that protruded from the ceiling in the hallways. The two of them continued their silence. Finally, Russo felt as though his presence was no longer desired. He went to leave in silence, knowing that the artist he had chosen from a sea of miscreants would be forever grateful but before departing entirely he briskly returned to their window

“You know why we keep coming back? The Founders? Why we would rather leave everything to see where you’ve gone and what you are doing?”

Russo waited on baited breath for a response. He studied his olive skin hoping that in those seconds he could provoke some sort of curiosity in him

“You make us feel something. That’s more than anyone can ask for now”

Teresa

A blistering sun broke through the shades casting a golden glow on her bed sheets. The amber colors of the morning revealed the scattered clothes and empty bottles across the room. It was an absolute mess. She usually didn’t let it get this bad but she simply didn’t have the time. The warmth of the morning glow was comforting but the hour was an unwelcome one. It felt as though it had only been a few minutes since silence had overcome them. Adam snored loudly when he over drank so she barely got any sleep. With a desperate moan Teresa tried to nudge him awake.

“Adam. Adam get up”

After a few tries the comatose bundle of sheets refused to move

“Make coffee. It’s your turn” her groans went unnoticed

The automated nutrients distributors (ANDs) weren’t going to activate themselves and she knew that Travis was in no shape to get her day started. He was a good guy but if one of them didn’t do it, it would never get done. She rolled over in her sheets wishing that time would stop. As her arm dangled from the bedside her fingers grazed a dirty plate but she didn’t seem to mind. Failing to reach it at first, she slowly slid her half-eaten quesadilla under her bed with her old boots, broken tablets, and divorce papers. As her eyes began to feel heavy again, she finally found herself sitting on the side of the bed staring at the carnage she called her room. It wasn’t that bad though. To the untrained eye it was a cacophony of scattered lip gloss containers, jeans, Band-Aids, bras, deodorant sticks, unopened tampons, brushes, juul cartridges, combs, and all other sorts of assortments of garbage. To her it was home and she traversed around and across it. Travis needed the sleep though. The neurological receptors in his prosthetic-leg needed to warm up and it never felt good putting it on.