Young Writers Society

Propaganda in the Morning

Andrew read the caption on the holographic windshield, Is the world past its carrying capacity? Averting his gaze from it he debated whether he wanted to read more about that stuff. He didn't know if it was just him, but over the last couple of months he noticed that there had been a lot of Media attention on population issues. In fact, just today, some five-hundred inmates who had been in medically induced comas for the past thirty years were to be awakened and sent aboard planes to their respective recycling facilities. He figured it was all just to rid the nation of some unneeded parasites.

A part of Andrew actually wanted something to happen on a big scale. Not like the Black genocide (that people swear had been planned long before the Robotics Revolution), but something that would provide a sense of adventure. The other part of him wondered what he would do if something did go down. What if the Government released a virus that made people go crazy and act like those corpse things that were going after that pretty girl in his dream. That would be fun.

Andrew touched the screen, opening up a small menu, and selected a movie. In an instant, the news melted away and was replaced by the web browser.

"I thought you liked reading the news," Sam said.

"It's starting to feel like déjà vu. Know what I mean?" Andrew said.

"Yes, but there’s more to it than that."

Andrew shrugged. "Like what? We’re all going to run out of oxygen and die? Come on. Everyone knows we don’t need as much oxygen as our ancestors did.”

"Not even funny,” Sam said, turning off the windshield’s newsfeed. “Do you remember the Merion Foulster scandal?"

Andrew nodded. "So you really think that the reason why the Government stopped aiding poor people in hopes that they would die off?"

Sam had slowed his navigation speed below the speed limit. The talk had him captivated. "Unless you can give a reason why Mr. Foulster disappeared off the face of the Earth after he made his second public statement. You know, the one where he accused the America of being a nation that horded all of the world’s resources for the wealthy? That they had lost any love for humanity.”

"I still don't get what you're trying to say."

"Well, look at it this way. He makes the first… greed is not dead statement a couple of people hate him for it, but nobody in politics cares, because they know that they are greedy. After all, for all they care as long as poor people are a minority in the nation they aren’t hurting anybody as long as they are too afraid to speak up. But then the guy speaks something that came from his heart, saying that the Survival of the Fittest Bill should be abolished from existence, which stirred up the poor, which almost seemed to get them ready to start a revolution, and then-poof. He vanishes."

"A hearts job is to pump blood, not talk."

"Listen to me and look at this logically. What are the odds that the guy just up and left his position as one of the wealthiest men in America? Did he move to some isolated island paradise? I would have if I was him, anyway.” He nodded his head.

“Whatever.”

“But seriously, he wasn't kidnapped. So the Govey people had to have done something to him."

"He was too old to be kidnapped. Adultnapped, maybe.”

Sam sighed, clearly not amused by Andrew’s lame attempt at humor.

"Foulster was an avid hunter you know,” Andrew said, glancing at him. “He probably just got lost in a forest somewhere.”

Sam seemed to be debating on what to say next. Andrew was convinced he had shut up his friend.

"So he just packed up and went hunting without telling anyone? Not even his daughter? She's dead too, you know? Suicide they say.”

“She was already screwed up.”

“True, but your hunting incident thing is really stupid. Dude! Do you know that the biggest forest we have in America is smaller than most of our cities?”

"Yeah," Andrew said, shrugging. When he noticed that Sam had navigated into a street that wasn't on the way to school he lowered the volume.

"School is the other way," Andrew said.

"Don't worry, nerd, I just want to keep talking about this. It’s better than our classroom discussions," Sam said.

"Not by much."

"Just go with it."

"I'll think about it," Andrew said. Staring out the window, he saw the wind blow the dying leaves off trees. Right now the trees were dying, but later today they could be sprouting leaves and flowers again. To Andrew, the seasons were like women. Nice to look at and experience, but not to care about. You dress for them, but you don’t have to love them.

The neighborhood was almost completely devoid of activity. However, he saw a woman working in her garden (robots tended to kill flowers), and a robot washing a car (robots loved to take care of anything metallic, sometimes a little too much), but that was about it. Andrew had to admit though, it was cool that plants had adapted to the chaotic weather, shedding leaves only to regenerate them, and how flowers could lose all their petals and bloom new ones all within a day.

"Hey, Andrew, how many people do you think are taking a day off of work today?" Sam said.

On a typical business day a lot of rich people would have been pulling out of their driveways in their perfect little cars. Not today. Andrew only saw about four driving down the road. One had a kid throwing a tantrum; the mother facing the kid in the back while the car navigated forward.

"The ones that have robots to work for them," Andrew said.

"Exactly, what company trusts robots to work without all the supervision they can get?”

“Again, I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

“I mean, unless someone wants this nation to go down, none of these changes would be allowed.”

“Changes?”

“Yeah, you know, allowing people to slack off at home,

"I wish we were family so I could mute you," Andrew said. He had no desire to listen to any more of Sam’s gibberish. He had already been lectured about robot uprisings, led by humans, and the release of mutated inmates into the public. Though, Andrew had to admit, the latter wasn’t too far-fetched. There were some pretty powerful people in power right now. Like the Senator who could command wild animals to follow his every word, which were probably more helpful than politicians anyway, and the family of the doctor who had worked on the experiments that gave human beings immune to disease.

With a smile on his face, Sam pointed a finger at him. “But we’re not. And hey, I think it's time for a song. Andrew knew that the end was going to bend his world into chaos, but he lived in denial, he lived in denial-“

“Do you want to die?” Andrew said.

Sam reached out to the passenger’s side holographic screen and turned it off. “What did you say?”

“Do you want to die?”

“Of course not. Why do you think I talk about all this stuff?”

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

“You can find out when this nation self-destructs.”

“With the way things are going I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet.”

“What? Then why do you get so upset when I talk about it?”

“Because,” Andrew began, “you don’t want it to happen.”

“So, you want it to?”

“Yes,” Andrew said, staring Sam in the eye.

Sam stared back at Andrew, but quickly looked away laughing. “You're awesome. In a sick, messed up kind of way.”

“Just because of that I think might just let you live.”

The Jungle

Chloe sighed, propped against the tree's hard bark, watching as Snowey hopped around the backyard. Her dad had built the obstacle course where the animal was playing.

It was really intricate, with even a small bridge over a miniature creek, complete with a rocky bottom. Snowey stopped on the bridge and turned her head to the side, a black eye staring at Chloe. Wind blew her whiskers from side to side.

“What are you staring at, Nosey?” Chloe said, setting her journal aside.

Snowey raised her ears, but lowered them again and ran off the bridge. Waving her off, Chloe picked up the journal again. She pressed the talk button.

“Hello, Chloe. How was your conversation with your friend?” her journal said.

“Good.”

“And how are you?”

“I'm alive,” she said, sighing. “N-not that anyone c-cares.” She frowned, annoyed by her stutter.

“Oh, Chloe, why so negative?”

“I don’t know.”

“All the things you've written on me say otherwise.”

“Th-they d-didn't c-come from your m-mind, d-did they?”

“I suppose not.”

“Bye, J-Journal,” she said.

“So soon? We've only just begun to talk.”

“Power d-down.” The journal's screen faded to black. Chloe put it on her lap and leaned her head against the tree, gazing at the glass mountain range of Omaha, Nebraska. The city extended for miles with only acres of trees to add any variety to the endless ecosystem of humanity. Towers of business, domes of entertainment, and boulders of residential districts, arteries of roads connecting Omaha to its surrounding state’s cities. As mesmerizing as Chloe thought the city was, she knew that its growth was not accomplished with much bloodshed. Many of America’s majestic animals were now extinct, and thousands if not millions of people were allowed to die off, without any aid from the Government, who wouldn’t even allow their neighbor’s to help. The Government’s philosophy that justified their tactics was that of a twisted form of natural selection. The rich could adapt while the poor died, leaving the nation to grow stronger, generation by generation.

A Shattered Photo on Memory Lane

Stacey walked over the escalator walk, which slithered alongside the road. Through the gaps between the craning necks of buildings, clouds were graying, swirling like smoke. Nothing unusual. The weather always fluctuated. It could be unbearably hot one day and snow the next, but thanks to technology, people were for the most part, protected from most of the elements while they were in non-residential districts of cities, because buildings would sprout spider-web like mesh that could reduce the most brutal of rain to a drizzle, and could even melt snow, so that by the time it reached the ground it was just rain.

She power walked, confident she would make it to school before the rain. But if she didn’t her clothes would just morph into whatever was appropriate for the elements at hand. A red pickup truck hummed by, a boy leering at her from inside. Something was eerily familiar about the boy’s face. The way his eyes could stare at her without emotion. Without shame.

As much as the sighting of the boy bothered her, the advertisements on many of the skyscrapers simply infuriated her. On almost everywhere block there were illustrations of and subliminal messages about overpopulation in advertisements of many things that Stacey would never buy and places she would never want to travel to.

As the wind brushed against her it seemed to be whispering into her ears, comforting her spirit. It was amazing how the wind still managed to blow even when most of the nation was a jungle of skyscrapers. Life was good, Stacey thought as she walked the rest of the way to school. Sure it was full of tragedy too, but there was beauty even in that, and she believed that things could get better. If not now then eventually. However, it was true that eventually could be as distant as a lifetime of suffering. But Stacey knew that she never suffered alone, and whenever she saw anyone else disheartened by the flaws in the deceivingly perfect society of America, she would be there for them too. The thought of helping others reminded her of how she had barged out of the house, angry at her dad. That certainly was not being loving or kind. It must have really hurt her dad, especially since he had willingly taken a day off to be with her for a mere few minutes. Stacey shook her head, remembering the days of her youth.

It had been a little while since she had turned six on January eighteenth. Honestly, she did not feel any different. Her birthday was different than those of other kids. First of all, she didn't have a party or presents. Probably because she never asked for those things. Stacey remembered how she would dance in the house, twirling around in a shirt that expanded with her as she grew, turning into a dress whenever she danced and back into a shirt when she became still. The shirt, which had been about three years old at the time, was on its last few months of growth.

“You’re heart grows with your body every year. That’s why you’re always so friendly,” her mom would say. “Now close your eyes, Stacey,” her mom had said before giving her a new shirt. It had been a wonderful gift. Unlike her other shirts, the one that she had been given in that moment could change from a shirt to a sweater, and in case of rain, into a raincoat. It was wonderful, because all three of those forms were occasionally needed in a day.

Despite having the new three in one shirt, other kids still called her poor, and said that she lived in a box. She had told her parents about it. Mom said that they were rich in love, and Stacey had smiled, because she knew that it was true.

The world back then had been in a brief conflict with robots, who had formed an allegiance with a low-income group of radical protesters. A small conflict eventually broke out in the streets of Dallas, Texas’ city. She could still remember the news voices talking about it:

"Two troops have been killed in the Robot Clan protest conflicts," had said a news person. "Let's go to Second Lieutenant Ashley who has the rest of the story."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Ashley. May we get a few words from you?

"I lost great men today,” he said, “none of them expendable tools. I saw them as what they were, a man and woman with family and friends. Every time I looked into their eyes, I saw only humanity." Ashley became quiet. “Their bodies were desecrated by the machines and the misguided traitors who aligned with them."

He became quiet again. Then he spoke again, “Soldiers don't start conflicts. They just serve in them.”

The man talked like they were his best friends. Stacey could still remember how she had grabbed a hold of her hair, and wiped away some tears.

"Thank you, Ashley," the news man said. "As you can see behind me, this is what is left of the street, and ironically, you can see construction worker robots repairing the damage.”

“They’re civil robots,” Ashley said, “serving and not wanting to be served. That’s what those things wanted,” he said as the camera directed itself to a pile of neatly stacked cubes of metal.

Turned out, Lieutenant Ashley was actually the man who had introduced her mom to the papers. They had met while she was out in the city, picking up food that she had ordered online, since she didn’t have a Store-Cart or delivery service membership to have it delivered to their home. And there he had been, discreetly talking to people about the beliefs that he had come to live by from The Words of Life. That evening, Stacey too had come to believe what her mom had to her the moment she returned home. And since then, Stacey and her mom had begun to live the mission that Lieutenant Ashley had told her mom about. A secret mission that the nation ignored at all costs, because they knew that in acknowledging it as a threat they were risking validating it as a threat, potentially aiding its growth as a movement.

At nine years old, Stacey’s life had become a struggle to find any reason to keep believing The Words of Life. Almost everyone she told about them would not understand what she was talking about and would just ignore her. She had grown bitter about the whole thing, especially ever since her dad had started to mess with her brain and that of her mom’s. One moment she would be talking and the next her mind would blank out and time would flash only to stop and leave her talking to herself, long after her dad had left the room.

It was times like that where she would go outside to watch birds. She loved how cute they were, and how they could soar freely through the sky. They could do whatever they wanted. Unlike people, who could only fly to specific locations via commercial flights. It wasn’t a life of freedom and flying cars, but of limited mobility as vehicles rode over tracks. The only time civilians would be able to use a vehicles tires, which were locked down in their body, was when a national disaster struck, and no one wanted that. Liberation through terror. No way.

And the giant dandelions and spider webs that sprouted like art in and over her back yard and throughout the neighborhood were beautiful too. Though the scary, three foot long flying spiders were not so pretty themselves, as harmless as they were. Still the mesmerizing spectacle of dandelion petals flowing in the wind beneath a silky canopy was amazing. At least until drones swooped down to take them away. They always took them away. But it wasn’t for nothing. They were used to make clothes and sky-scraper umbrellas among many other spectacular creations.

As time went by Stacey’s dad spoke less and less to her and his wife as they gradually grew apart. No longer were they the picturesque that waved from a portrait in the living room. A portrait that fell from the wall one day and shattered. At least that’s what Stacey’s dad had said. She could still remember how she had begun to scoop up the pieces, unaware that the glass would cut her finger as it began to fuse back together, and had become trapped within it, permanently obscuring her dad’s smiling face. She had tried to wipe off the blood, but it had already molded with the portrait. The picture of her family had finally shattered.

Deception

Satisfied with the amount of exercise Snowey got, Chloe carried the hare back to her room. She put Snowey in her cage, fed her, and on her way out of changed into a hoodie and khakis and walked over a pair of shoes that wrapped themselves around her feet. Music played beneath her feet as she made her way down the stairs. The lights that illuminated the stairway glistened off the polished railing.A large portrait of a gorilla flashing a peace sign hung on the wall where the floor was level and the stairway forked. On the left was the entrance to the second floor hallway, and on the right was a bending archway that lead down to the first floor.

The second floor was what her parents called "Their floor." The walls on that hall were adorned with holographic portraits of their travels, with different songs playing in the background of each. She shook her head when she saw the portraits featured her as well. Her parents had offered to have some of them placed on the third floor, but she declined. She liked the walls plain the way they were.

As she went down the last flight of stairs she heard her dad say, "This is why I love you so much. You find so much to make with such a limited amount of meat.”

Breakfast was the only meal where meat was served in. The rest of the day she and her family were vegetarians. It was because meat was limited to five pounds a home per month. Unlike the old days, raising livestock was now understood to take up too much valuable for cities, plus they just reeked.

"I cook the best for the man of my life," her mom said.

“I’ll remember that for our next date night,” her dad said.

"Good m-morning, dad," Chloe said.

Her dad, who was sitting at the dining room table ignored her for a moment. Chloe frowned, she hated being ignored, but people did it all the time.

“M-morning, Dad,” Chloe repeated.

"Oh. Good morning, Chloe,” her dad said, opening up his arms to her. “Come here.”

“I l-love you, Dad,” Chloe said, throwing herself into her dad’s arms.

“Love you too.”

"So, Herby, are you up for another trip on your break from classes?" her mom said, setting a plate of breakfast for her.

"Where t-to?" Chloe said. She shook with enthusiasm, taking a seat at the table. She loved traveling.

"We're taking another trip to Alaska. And if you go, there will be a surprise waiting for you," she said.

"Mom, I h-hate s-sur-p-prises," Chloe said.

"Sorry, Herby, but even as my daughter you can’t ruin my plans."

“Alrighty,” Chloe said, working on her breakfast.

Her dad made a howling sound and Chloe’s eyes lit up. It was an almost perfect imitation of a Huskie.

"What are you a werewolf now?" her mom said.

"Just giving Chloe a clue," her dad said, before taking a big bite of his breakfast.

Her mom sighed.

"We’ll g-get to see the n-new b-breed of Hus-Huskies?" Chloe exclaimed, out of breath. She had only seen pictures of Polar Huskies on the internet, and videos on the news. They were bred during the earlier times of the Technological Revolution, as a means to transport cargo from one region of Alaska to another while old fashioned trucks were modified to hover over snow along specific roadways.

"Not quite your neighborhood Huskies anymore are they?"

What her dad said was an understatement. Polar Huskies were massive. They were taller than wolves, and much more powerful than their smaller ancestors. They were an adorable, powerful breed of dog.

"W-where w-will we s-see t-them at?" Chloe said.

"Well, we aren't going just to see them. We're actually going to be attending a meeting in the Alaska State House," Her mom said.

Chloe sighed; she hated the meetings that her parents attended. They dragged on endlessly.

"Don't worry, you don't have to attend. I'm not even sure if you would even be allowed to attend this one if you wanted to," her dad said.

"G-good, b-because I d-don't," Chloe said. "W-where w-will I s-stay m-meanwhile?"

"We've booked two rooms in a nearby hotel. You can stay there until we get back. But you have to promise to stay in your room and keep the door locked at all times. Don't even open up for the room service robots. You never know what those things are up to these days. I'll tell you now the secret password I'll use is virtus semper viridis."

Chloe smiled.

"Ben, Herby won’t open up for anybody while we’re gone," her mom said.

Her mom was right. Chloe hated strangers. In fact, when she was younger she used to run and hide as soon as someone that wasn’t her mom or dad entered the house.

"Y-yeah," Chloe finally said. “B-besides e-everyone knows w-what t-that means.”

Her dad looked at her as if wondering why it took so long for her to say something. "Ah, so you know what I meant by making the password virtus semper viridis?" he said after taking a swallow of orange juice.

"Even if I didn't know a word of Latin I'm sure I could guess that it meant virtue is always green,” Chloe’s mom said.

"You've been using your time to learn a dead language?"

Chloe poked her dad on the shoulder. “A l-language you killed?”

"It wasn't me. Progress is what killed it. No one teaches history anymore. All it did was help people perfect their plans to repeat it," her dad said.

"Ben, you haven't changed a bit since the day I first met you. I worried about how many coconuts fell on your head then too," her mom said.

Chloe's parents were cheerful people by nature. She only appeared to be, but it was just an illusion. And it wasn’t just her parents that she deceived. She deceived just about everybody that she interacted with. It wasn’t because she had anything bad to hide from them, she was just self-conscious about her quirkiness and felt that it wouldn’t be appreciated by anyone.

“I'll m-meet you at the c-car, Mom" Chloe said, excusing herself from the table.

“Where are you going?” her mom asked.

“To grab my stuff.”

“Herby, you haven’t finished your breakfast,” her mom said.

“I'm f-full now, M-mom." Chloe was actually starving. She was just annoyed by her family’s pointless conversation.

“Oh, Herby, don’t do this. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“I’ll eat at s-school if I g-get h-hungry."

“Well okay, but what am I supposed to do with your plateful of food?”

“I’ll take it,” her dad said.

“Thanks,” Chloe said. She was glad she didn’t have to say anything else to her mom, because her mom could just drone on and on for so long that it could drive her crazy.

As she was leaving her mom said, “Chloe, are you feeling okay today?”

Chloe sighed, turning back from the stairs. “No, mom.” Chloe loved her mom, but she cared about her a little too much. It was quite frustrating

Back in her room she looked at herself in the mirror. Chloe wasn't ugly, in fact she knew that other people thought she was quite attractive, but still, she didn't consider herself to be much. She stared at her green eyed, and golden haired twin in the mirror, who was probably just another liar. Shaking her head, Chloe left her twin and grabbed her bag, noticing that the sky outside had darkened.

Nice day today, Chloe thought as she stuffed her phone into a pocket. She didn’t use it much, but it was good to carry anyway. As much as she hated to admit, she did feel kind of sad that the only contacts in it were those of her parents and Kellie, one of her cousins. She didn't know much about her other relatives. Not even their names. It didn’t bother her much, though. She was perfectly fine with never talking to them. Not that she had much to talk to them about if she had wanted to anyway.

Snowey clawed at her cage. The bars rattled as she continued to push on it with her paws. Chloe went over to the cage and petted her through the bars. The day her Dad had Snowey, the little bunny as a gift had been an immensely joyful moment for her. And now, here she was, in her room, living like a recluse, depressed out of her mind.

“We’re best friends, r-right?” Chloe said, extending a hand to each of the animals. Chloe’s pets looked up to her to take care of them and guide them. And a tundra hare wasn’t exactly the kind of animal that would warm up to just anybody.

"Hey, S-snowey, would you m-miss me i-if I died?"

Snowey pressed her face against the cage, her eyes reflecting Chloe’s picture perfect bedroom. Chloe’s room was always clean. No robots were ever hired to do the cleaning though. Chloe liked that. She wouldn't have enjoyed having strange beings go around the house, scaring Snowey or stealing silverware. Why robots stole metal things she did not know, and no one else was entirely sure either. They couldn’t exactly use it for themselves, because if any modifications to their body were made by any non-government entity the compression mechanism would immediately activate in their body and then their remains would be promptly collected for recycling.

As Chloe gazed out her window she saw how easy it would be for her to simply unlatch it, open the window, and take a plunge into nothingness. But her parents loved her too much for her to even be thinking about such a selfish thing.

“Herby, hurry and get to the car,” her mom’s voice said over her room’s intercom. Chloe rushed out of her room, waving goodbye to Snowey, who was looking out the window, her ears down. She was afraid of something. Detecting fear was one of Chloe’s greatest skills.

She froze when she saw the falcon perched behind the window. It cocked its head at her and then repeatedly pecked at the window, pausing at certain intervals. The falcon threw itself backwards off the ledge and shot itself into the distance, leaving Chloe stunned as she realized that its pecking was actually a series of numbers. 267-81-9195. She had seen that falcon before on a dark, and terrifying night two years ago at the age of fourteen.

Frozen Concrete

“Buzz off,” Chloe’s friend said, her forehead scrunched on the door’s screen.

Chloe spoke into the microphone door again, “H-hey, it’s me. W-want to h-hang out?”

“Buzz off!” came her friends voice again.

“W-what?”

“I said buzz off!”

Chloe pursed her lips, confused as the screen vanished and left behind a plain door. How could her friend do this to her? She came to her house practically every day. Every day. Maybe that was the problem. But what else was she supposed to do? Be bored at home? She didn’t have any other friend’s houses that she felt comfortable going to. Didn’t have very many friends at all, actually. Head bowed, Chloe walked away from the house, glancing at it one last time before she slouched to the escalator walk, allowing it to carry her along. She could feel her eyes blink. Tears wanted to come out, but Chloe fought against them and prevailed, maintaining some pride as she processed what had just happened.

Turns out her mom had been right, and by going to her friend’s house so many times in the past months she had pushed her friend to the point where she considered Chloe’s presence to be an annoyance. But how? They were such good friends, watching online programs, and playing in holographic fields, and…well that was about it really. They talked occasionally, but that was usually only when they were watching something or explaining the rules of a game. She sighed, realizing that she had failed at maintaining a friend.

Cars hummed by, their lights bathing the street in a ghostly green haze. Musicblared from a house somewhere, an aged car clanked its rails into place as it was locked down in a driveway, and a flying spider flapped past, its fangs clicking. She jumped onto the grass, startled by street cats as they tore down the escalator walk, screeching like banshees. After the curtain came down on the sun, the city became a nocturnal wilderness.

She was a ten minute cruise from her house, but on foot, she guessed it would take about half an hour to get there. Despite it being night time Chloe knew she was safe. Or was she? Out in the open, she could be abducted, raped, killed. She sucked in a mouthful of air, trying to push the thoughts away, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other instead. Those things rarely happened. Still, the moment she got home she would take a shower and try and forget about this night ever happening.

The closer she got to her home, the more forbidding her surroundings became. Darkened stores and businesses stared at her with their vacant glass eyes. A few, however, were still up and running. In those, people were at cash registers, scanning their hands to pay for their merchandise.

They were like dead zombies, only stumbling along with society. A zombie, was already dead, but Government and Media influenced people were in a realm beyond death, functioning solely by what their minds absorbed through the internet.

As Chloe bit her lips, disgusted as she passed a strip club, its holographic walls blazing in blue. As disturbed as Chloe was, she would be lying if she didn’t wonder what it was like to mess around. Chloe closed her eyes as she went by it, but the intense blue glow still burned through her lids. It was an ego killer.

“Why am I such a loser?” she whispered. She was answered by an alarm going off in a store far behind her. That was surprising. If it was a robbery it had been the first in about half a year. No matter, it was about a mere fifteen minutes to her house.

The National Police would catch any burglars within four with their free roaming, trackless vehicles, which people swore could fly. The NPs were scarier than those that they recycled. A light marker cutting through the clouds above the skyline confirmed that the entire situation would end in within a minute. In the sky, the drones observed life on the ground, but from space, satellites hunted over the nation, their omniscient eyes always ready to locate anybody who violated the law.

Chloe began the countdown in her head, and played out the process. The NPs radar is synched with the satellites, and the very heartbeat of the burglars is being tracked, they're putting their cars auto pilot, upholstering their W-Steradins. The cars have already surrounded the poor fools, their bodies are enveloped in a web five times as strong as steel.

“Five, four,” Chloe began to count. “Three, two-” a sound like a carpet unfolding pierced the night, followed by another, and then the anguished wails of two women shattered Chloe’s mind. She trembled. For all she knew the women had probably just stolen some food.

She heard the low growls of the police cruisers draw closer, and walked with her shoulder gracing along the walls of slumbering skyscrapers. The black and white vehicles rumbled by like a pack of killer whales. And suddenly, the city came to life as thousands of skyscraper windows flashed with: Two Criminal Women Recycled. Population Update: 4,458,252,014. Within seconds, Chloe’s cellphone recited the same information to her from her pocket. She bit her lips, no doubt the captures would serve as a warning to any other criminals planning anything for the entire year.

Chloe walked and walked, reaching the edge of Rainbow Park, which during the day was filled with cheerful people, wildlife and unfortunately drones who floated through the beautiful, multi-colored trees, studying mankind, waiting for any reason to alert the authorities. It was quite sad really. How the Government didn’t trust people to know how to govern themselves. It was absurd really, just how much supervision the nation was under. But no matter, her thoughts were still safe from their eyes, and that was of some comfort.

After a while Chloe came to the Rainbow Park pathway stepped off the escalator walk. On the other side of the park was the housing district where her house was. Cutting through it would be quicker than going around. She squinted into the darkness, seeing nothing but rainbow colored leaves, skeleton-like branches and scattered boulders throughout the edges of the path. She bit her lips. The boulders looked like bodies under the glow of the moon.

She could see the moon! That meant the city lights were already beginning to power down, the city curfew was starting. It didn't mean that people weren't allowed out, it just meant that there would be less illumination. She laughed nervously, anything that was meant to combat Global Warming made her think of her mom and dad’s outrageous beliefs. Worrying about the earth was kind of part of their job, though.

She stood at the edge of the park, waiting for the backup lights to start. They sprung to life all over the path. The solar powered lamps were dim, but adequate to see by. Taking quick, deep breaths, Chloe stepped onto the path, feeling like she was walking through a forest deep in a canyon. In a way, she was; a canyon in the concrete jungle.

She stopped next to a man in a grime coated clothes, sleeping next to a boulder, using emptied trash bags as covers. It was such a depressing sight. She and her family were living in wealth, while this man didn't even have a home to live in. And by law, Chloe wasn’t allowed to do anything about it. At least he had a rock to rest his head.

The luminous green eyes of a massive street cat studied her from atop a tree. As she drew closer she saw that it had a camo-mouse clamped in its jaws.

“N-nice, k-kitty,” she said.

The cat let the mouse drop from its mouse and shrieked at her. The bark of the tree crunched as the cat's claws ran over it.

“E-easy, I'm no t-threat to you,” Chloe delicately said.

The cat continued to shriek at her as she walked past. Chloe looked back over her shoulder. The cat was crouched down, and then it sprang off the tree, fleeing into the foliage. It was if something had startled it. She shrugged it off. That cat was probably just scared by her.

Scared of me? Why does everything innocent have to be afraid of me? Trembling, Chloe collapsed in the middle of the path, tears seeping from her eyes.

It wasn't fair, that good guys avoided her while dogs went after her. She slapped the concrete beneath her, knowing it was her fault for being too afraid to act. She was too shy. Too awkward. And she hated it!

After several moments of silent weeping, Chloe started to shiver and her arms broke out in goose bumps. The temperature had noticeably dropped several degrees. It wasn't uncommon for temperatures to fluctuate, but they never happened so swiftly.

She jerked a hand out as a tree limb snapped, crashing to the ground. The air was now freezing cold. Her ears and nose were beginning to numb and her teeth were chattering violently, and her clothes morphed into a jacket. She clawed at her eyes as her tears began to freeze.

What was going on? Is an ice age starting? She sprang on her feet as something metallic hummed. The alley darkened as light posts froze over, the light becoming fainter and fainter. Her neck muscles twitching, Chloe turned around. In the distant darkness a hunched over, thin figure shambled toward her.

Measuring the distance in her mind, Chloe cocked her head to the side, the figure, which was now clearly a person mimicked her. Maybe whoever it was was was just lost and needed directions, Chloe thought as she slowly made her way toward the figure. But the chill, it was still biting her skin even under her jacket.

“H-hello? “Chloe said as she waited for the figure to get closer, and it did. It was a young girl who looked only slightly older than Chloe. Her face was pretty, but her eyes... They were swirling in her head like egg yolks in a bowl of water behind her wiry dark hair.

“You c-can’t be out h-here,” Chloe began before a boulder next to her lifted itself off the ground. Frightened, she took a step back, and screamed as the boulder slammed down with a muffled thud.

“Y-you’re one of t-them!” Chloe said backing away. This girl, whoever she was, was among the few elite humans in the nation who had unlocked their repressed powers. This woman was telekinetic!

“Easy, easy,” Chloe whispered to the girl, who continued to shuffle toward her, unfazed by her words.

Behind the girl, the homeless man that Chloe had passed by while he had been asleep shouted, “Hey! Can’t a man sleep?” Chloe froze as the girl turned around, her skin squirming and bones crackling as she raised a spasming hand, swiping it up and then slamming it down as the man was crushed by a boulder. Chloe counted the seconds, waiting for the population to be updated on the skyscrapers, but it didn’t, so she stood there, too afraid to move.

And then she did the smartest thing she could think of. She turned and sprinted down the pathway. As she fled down the path the girl’s mind ripped leaves from trees, shredding them in midair, scattering them like confetti. Chloe grimaced, knowing that the girl’s mind could tear through her innards at any second. Chloe jumped over tree limbs that were flung down on the path and dodged around flying boulders that were slammed against trees.

Lights bathed the other end of the park as cars passed by on the road. She was almost there, but that didn't mean that she would be safe. There was no telling if the girl would stop following her. She was insane! Why was she doing this? Why weren’t human’s minds as immune to illness as their bodies? Was she going to die tonight? Chloe could feel her bladder contracting in her abdomen.

Suddenly a stream of rain descended upon her and then stopped as if someone in the clouds had turned off a facet. There was no time for Chloe to speculate about the mysterious rain, because a trickle of water froze beneath her feet and she went sprawling, landing with thud. “No,” Chloe said, her voice feeble. And then she felt her body go limp as she was levitated off the ground. Chloe forced her neck to crane to the girl, whose eyes blankly studied her before she was swallowed by a web. And as she was slammed to the ground, and dragged down the path, Chloe collapsed on the hard ground, moaning in pain. She swallowed her pain and instinctively threw herself behind a boulder, noticing that the temperature had instantly returned to normal, her coat reverting back to a long-sleeved shirt.

As Chloe peered around the boulder, far off in the distance she caught a flash of the web wrapped girl and of two uniformed, masked figures throwing the girl into a car and then navigated off, their car completely silent as it rolled over the tracks. Chloe remained there, her back plastered against the boulder, traumatized by what had just happened. And without warning a falcon landed on one of her knees.

“Tell no one what you have seen,” it said.

Chloe’s eyes widened, shocked by the falcon’s voice. Had it really spoken, or was whoever had captured the telekinetic woman speaking through it? She didn’t have time to think because the bird spoke again, startling her anew.

“You are free to go, Chloe, Rahab, Tillman, 267-81-9195,” the falcon said as it jutted out its wings, soared up to the sky, and was swallowed by darkness.

Chloe’s chest heaved, her mouth open. What had she just witnessed? And what would happen if she told anybody? No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t! No doubt these people knew who she was! A bird had just said her full name and recited her social security! Had the satellites seen this? Sure they had, and they probably laughed, knowing that she wouldn’t dare to whisper a word to anyone.