Young Writers Society

Kalyds, known to many as The Gilded City, is a paradise for many, a dream come true for simple folk who gave up everything to work in the Gilded City. Thick walls, patrolled day and night by vigilant guards, ensure that nobody gets in-- or out. For the first time in known history, people are completely secure. The number of deaths per year is a staggering 7, with all 7 planned executions of either the disabled, terminally ill, or elderly.

The one downside, however, is that no one can leave. Of course, this bothers very few people. After all, who would want to leave the most technologically advanced city on earth to return to a simple life as a farmer, or a maintenance worker? Robots have taken over many jobs, and some people are able to live without any need to work in very comfortable conditions. Robots clean for them, build for them, make food in factories for them, and improve the technology so that very few people ever have to work, and can still live in comfort and luxury.

But underneath the surface of this perfect town lies a secret so dark and dangerous it runs the risk of destroying them all. When the news is publicized, who will be brave enough to challenge the monstrosity that is the government, and who will be able to survive?

RULES:
1. No swearing, unnecessary violence, gore, or explicit romance.
2. No god-modding, or controlling other people's characters.
3. Your character must be either a citizen or a member of the government. Maximum two government employees allowed, so claim those spots quickly!
4. All other SB rules apply!

Government Employee Spot 1 Reserved For: @Lightsong
Government Employee Spot 2 Reserved For: @XxXTheSwordsmanXxX

Have fun, and good luck to all!

DT: The Gilded City DT

Character Template:
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Physical Features:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]

The lights for Glare and Blare flashed outside, and the barely constrained noise of a boisterous social gathering could be heard from a block outside. Magnus Poder ran a hand through his curly black hair, adjusted his jacket and sunglasses, and stepped inside.

The second he steped through the door, two girls who had been lingering near the door giggled, pointing at him and blushing behind their hands. Magnus ignored both of them and shook his head, walking straight forward. The girls stepped up on either side of him and slipped their arms through his, but he shook them both off and walked around the back for a while.

It was already dark outside, and the street lights cast shadows everywhere on the pavement. He sat down on one of the windowsills, pulling his knees up to his chest, and stared out the window to kill time. Fortunately, the party was set to run only three hours, and if he could linger here for long enough, he might avoid running into any old friends who could embarrass him.

The music switched to one of the few songs he enjoyed, and as the main singer began to sing the first verse in harmony with the electric guitar riffs and drumbeats, Magnus found himself singing under his breath in time with the band.

Pushing himself off the windowsill, he slipped through the crowd toward the front, where the speakers were blasting music so loudly he could barely hear the noise of the crowd behind him. The party was more crowded than he had expected, and the drinks were flowing freely. He, of course, had no alcoholic beverage in his hands. The only thing he disliked more than parties were hangovers, but of course, he was socially expected to get both.

The only reason he even attended these parties was for hope of finding another friend, an ally to aid him if he ever attempted an escape. He had made a few friends so far, but the only people adventurous enough to talk to new people proved to have heads filled with sawdust.

He caught sight of one such friend, a man who called himself Dart. Magnus wouldn't consider Dart a real friend, but they had enough in common that they usually wound up at the same parties, and it was impossible to avoid the man. They were a good distance away, but perhaps he could maneuver to the outside of the crowd where Dart couldn't catch him...

Too late. Dart locked eyes with him and was making his way over to him. Magnus looked at his shoes and swore so Dart couldn't read his lips, then stood and pasted a smile on his face.

"Dart! What's up, mate?"

"Life's been good, as usual, Magnus," Dart replied, with his signature full-face grin. He held up a beer in his right hand. "This party's got some of the best beer in town, you should try some!"

Magnus shook his head, keeping his smile fixed in place. "No thanks, Dart, I'll leave all that for you."

Dart lightly punched Magnus on the shoulder. "Come on, man, you're really missing out."

Magnus sighed, broad shoulders heaving. "Fine, but I'm blaming you when I get a hangover tomorrow."

"That a boy, Magnus! It'll be worth it, I promise." Dart grabbed Magnus' arm and pushed people out of the way, plowing straight through to the bar. He pointed to the bartender, a robotic instrument with artificla intelligence that allowed it to hear any order every time, pour drinks, and even answer basic social questions.

The robot turned away from a group that was pestering it with questions it couldn't answer for the laughs and wheeled up. "What can I get you today?" Its facial recognition features scanned Dart's face, and it leapt back a little. "No more for you, Dart."

"I'm not here for me. I'm here to get Magnus some of this top-of-the-line beer!"

"Very well, then. What beer would you like, Mr. Magnus?"

"Vanilla Corben, please. From the cooler, of course."

The robot turned and returned almost immediately, placing an ice-cold Corben on the counter. "24 credits, please."

Before Magnus could even reach for his pocket, Dart was sliding the money across the counter. He slung an arm around Magnus' shoulders, and Magnus resisted the urge to nudge him away. "Thank you, Dart."

"My pleasure, Magnus. You deserve a treat every once in a while." Dart laughed, and his beer-tinted breath filled Magnus' nostrils as he forced a chuckle.

"I'l let you get back to whatever you were doing there, Magnus. Have a good time, and remember, party like there's no tomorrow!"

Of course, Magnus thought. Keep living this shallow life. Day after day. Like there's no tomorrow.

"I wonder what theme I should do this time for my party," mused Arlen as he French-braided his sister's hair.

Gwyneth sighed. "Just make it gold-themed again. Everybody in Kalyds loves gold." Without turning, she reached a hand out to pet her dog, Bella, who was laying quietly beside them on Gwyn's bed.

It was Arlen's turn to sigh now. "No, I can't redo a theme, at least for a long while. No one's going to be impressed if I don't think of something new. And it has to be perfect."

"Oh. My. Goodness. Arlen, you're impossible sometimes, you know that? You sound like one of those rich girls who only have thoughts of party planning in their heads."

"They have nothing better to do, do they? But at least I pull it off with more style," teased Arlen, pulling another section of hair into one of the three main strands. "After all, my job is to entertain the masses. There, I'm done." He pulled the hair tie from his wrist and fastened the end of the braid.

Gwyn turned to face him, her expression amused. "My turn to do your hair. Turn around."

Though Arlen let out a groan as he shifted position, he smiled as he did it.

"I'm glad you got the day off from most of your work," said Gwyn as she pulled his hair back from his forehead and gathered strands to the top of Arlen's head. "Things have been so different after you decided to pursue an acting career as well."

"It's only a part-time job, Gwyn," Arlen broke in. "The director of Midnight Ball just happened to ask me to be male lead for the movie."

She snorted. " 'Just happened to'. Yeah, right. And preparing to drop a mixtape is a part-time job too." She tied a hair band. "Okay. I'm done."

"Already?" Arlen got off the bed and hurried to the nearest mirror. He fingered the short ponytail sticking straight up on top of his head. "So . . . you wanted me to look like a unicorn for my vlog?"

"Think whatever you want. Just go film your thing. I'm gonna go get a snack from downstairs. Come on, Bella." She walked past Arlen, followed by the Golden Retriever.

Arlen followed her to the stairs and watched them descend, all the way down, to make sure that Gwyneth didn't slip. Then he headed to his own room and shut the door, making a beeline for the corner devoted to his vlog film sessions, complete with lighting equipment and professional cam setups.

After checking that everything was working and ready to run, Arlen plopped on the couch in the center of the studio corner and stared straight at the camera. "Start filming, please."

The red light next to the camera lens started blinking, a cue that the live video was beginning.

Arlen pasted a smile on his face. "Hi, everyone!" He waved both hands. Already, he could see the number of viewers growing rapidly from the screen below the camera. "How are all you lovely people doing today? Personally, the cast of Midnight Ball are getting a day off from filming, so I'm just chilling at home with Gwyneth and Bella. Oh, and Gwyn decided that I should be a unicorn today, so that's why my hair is like this." He motioned at his head, laughing. He smiled as he glanced at a comment scrolling across the screen, reading, 'ur a real life unicorn and a sweet brother. luv it arlen'.

After speaking about various things for a few minutes, he paused, then clasped his hands together. "Ah! It's so hard to believe that my first album is coming out soon. I hope y'all are as excited as I am. I'm sure you guys already know, but it's still so thrilling that I get to introduce Countdown first at the One Hundred Party this Friday.

"And that reminds me." He leaned forward, resting his chin his hands. "I haven't been able to think of a theme for the party yet." Arlen fell silent, thinking. Ideas flew through his head as fast as the comments offering suggestions moved across the tablet.

"Aha!" He straightened. "I got it. This coming One Hundred Party's theme is Victorian steampunk. It's going to be fun. Invitations should be going out in a few hours, so those of you who will be guests, dress accordingly. Now I really want to start planning the deets, so I'm signing off now. Love y'all!" He waved again.

The camera light turned off. Arlen lowered his hand, and sighed as he leaned back against the cushions.

This sure is tiring. Wait. Where did that come from? He shook his head. He couldn't afford to be tired of this life. It was the only way Gwyn had any chance of ever receiving sight. A few years ago, he had hired the best research doctors and laboratories to study her cells and find a way to cure her blindness, but so far no positive results had returned. But he couldn't stop trying. Anyone who had a 'disability' risked being chosen for Elimination. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that his and Gwyneth's fame protected her, deep down inside, he didn't believe it. Everything else aside, she was all he had left. Both of his parents were gone because of the practice.

Arlen stood and went to his desk to plan out his invitation list in a draft message to his manager. This time, he would do a 'invite a friend' ordeal, with the appearance ten other famous figures of the Gilded City (such as Averi Pyle and Tanner Strong, maybe even Minister of Parties Mitch Young), and forty double invitations to be sold for 1 million credits, with all guests alike able to give another person their second one. It would save him time of how many outsiders he should allow in to Rahel during the party, at least. Undoubtedly, the security detail would probably not be too happy. But they ran background checks on the outsiders, anyways.

"All right, enough party planning," he said to himself, clicking the send button.

Arlen exited his room and headed downstairs, calling, "Gwyn! You still eating?" He poked his head into the kitchen and grinned when he saw her. "Let me join you. I'm starving."

I've got to spend as much time as I can with my sister and make every moment count. I'll live like there's no tomorrow.

Edric walked into the Glare and Blare, and was instantly greeted by some aquaintances. After greeting them and partaking in some small talk, Edric makes his way to the bar to grab a drink and see if he can talk to someone else. It's not that Edric doesn't like them, but talking to them is almost like being at work, and Edric doesn't want to be working on his day off.

"Hey, nice to see you again." Edric sat in the barstool, flashing a friendly smile to the robotic bartender. He wasn't sure if the robot had the capacity for real emotion, but if it did, he knew that it could remember his actions more than anyone else.

It's facial recognition features recognised him, at least. "Hello, Edric. What can I get you today?"

Edric leaned forwards. "A pomegranate wine, please."

The robot turned away and returned within moments, holding a wine glass filled with the deep red liquid. The robot placed the glass gently onto the bar. "27 credits, please."

Edric obliged, placing the coins into the robot's outstretched hands. "Thank you," he said, picking up the glass. "Any interesting customers lately?"

"Dart keeps coming back for more," the robot responds. "I think I misjudged his level of sobriety last time I gave him a drink."

Edric grins. "It's always Dart, isn't it? He's quite the character."

The robot laughs, though Edric can't perceive if this is a real or fake response. It seems genuine enough, but the programmer could have been an expert in body language. "Yes, he is."

Edric nodded with a smile, then he leaned in. "Can you do me a favor?"

"That depends on what you need me to do."

He nodded. "Right. Can you watch my drink for a moment?"

"Sure," the robot responded. "Don't take too long. though."

Edric walks to the men's washroom. He looks around; the room being empty, he places both hands on the sink to support him for a moment. He looks at the mirror. He sees himself, and starts to get a handle on his emotions. As fake as his actions feel to him, reputation is very important. Being yourself in public isn't always to your best interest. His mother, a socialite and businesswoman, said that appearances are exceedingly important if you want to make it in life.

Edric recalls some of the the words she said to him. "Dancing is a hobby, not a career. Study something important, like programming, and you will go places."

He turns on the tap, and the cold water runs over his fingers. He cups his hands and splashes himself a few times. The temperature of the water grounds him, and he's ready to face the world with all his charm and glamour. He dries his face, fixes his hair, and returns to the bar.

"Sorry about that. Just freshening up."

The robot's facial recognition features work once more to figure out who is speaking."No worries," responds the robot. "Anyhow, your drink is here and has not been tampered with."

"Thank you," Edric replies, smiling. He takes a sip of his drink. The robot goes to serve some other patrons, who begin bothering it with questions that it cannot answer.

After fifteen minutes of sipping at his drink and charming his aquaintances, he spots Magnus with his peripheral vision. Edric waits until Dart is gone, and then pretends to just notice Magnus. Edric stands up, grabs his drink, and moves to sit near him.

"Hey, I didn't think you would be here," Edric greets him. "Doctors have long shifts, right?"

Magnus grins at the appearance of his friend. "Yes, but I'm off today."

"What a coincidence that we have days off on the same days," Edric muses.

Edric would enjoy these parties more if he had the confidence to dance at them, but talking to people he actually cares about makes it worthwhile. Magnus is one of Edric's close friends. The other is Arlen, the famous vlogger; Edric's networking surprisingly brought him one of the most important people in his life. Edric's thoughts about his friends are interrupted by someone entering the conversation.

Oliver sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The bright screen burning his eyes after hours of staring at it. Looking around the rather small room he felt the tinge of loneliness, being the only one there. There was a time before that there would be hundreds of people in this building all programming or working machines to do some arbitrary task.

Now there was just him, maybe a few others on different floors that oversaw different floors of the building of programming the robots and machines to do the things that would normally be given out to other machines.

Of course his job might be seen as the most vital. While there are programmers that set up all the machines and robots, Oliver was in charge of the data and information hub. He monitored where data would go and what clearance. Of course, it was rather boring. He only did things when something went wrong.

Even now he was doing nothing. Just watching the cpu usage going up slightly then back down. Looking at the time he gave a sigh as he logged out and gathered his pack. All it ever had was his lunch in it. Heading out of the central hub he began his walk back to his apartment. Stopping at the store he gathered a few things to make dinner that night and took it to the register. He was brought out of his autopilot motions when a voice talking to him.

A feminine voice.

Looking up he saw that the normal bot that he interacted with was not there, and in it's place was a young woman giving him a sweet smile. "I said it seems like a fun night with poptarts and Twizzlers," she repeated.

Oliver opened his mouth trying to talk. Looking like a fish trying to breath out of water. After a few seconds of looking like an idiot, he just shut his mouth and nodded a little before paying the credits, a blush on his face. Gathering his things he quickly headed out to his home.

The voice in the back of his mind berating him for not saying something. She seemed like she was really interested in you. All you had to do was say something. Anything and you could have done something.

Oliver just shook his head and entered his small apartment. A bed, tiny kitchen, and terminal that gave him news feeds and a link to his job at the central hub.

There was no one there to greet him. No welcome home. Just the silence of the room meeting with the thudding of the people above him. Running through the news feed with a poptart in one hand before he stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing that something would finally change for him.