Emerging from the imposing steel doors of the government sanctuary into the misty September morning, Mr. Derek Miller relished the sensation of his feet hitting the cold metal grates feeling a sense of freedom and independence that was becoming rarer with each passing day. Nodding to the guard with hands in pockets, he acknowledged the few moments outdoors he had. As he walked through the silence, his identity tag flapping in the wind, he watched as the dark grey sky looming overhead.
The year was 2082. It was five years after the end of World War 3 and the United States was a shadow of its former self. Devastated after the war, the government had made sweeping changes to the country, and life had become bleak and monotonous. They had ensured that everyone follows the exact same routine every day, making it easier for them to keep track of everyone.
Miller's routine was predictable: Crossing the bridge, he would stride off past the factories belching out thick clouds of smog. And, like clockwork, he would strap his gas mask on with practiced efficiency, exactly two seconds after passing. He didn’t have any intentions whilst on these walks. Ever since the War, he had given up on hope and dreams. And that was just fine for him.
Checking his watch, he turned at the intersection. The time read 9:30. Derek smiled, he had 5 minutes left. Walking past the tomb-like building, ignoring the Propaganda posters plastered on the wall showing the only sign of color in this dreary city, turning at an intersection, he followed his usual path.
Suddenly, an announcement cackled overhead, interrupting his thoughts. "Numbers 3,750 to 4,500, make your way back to your Sanctuaries, Numbers 4,501 to 4, 750 come to the cafeteria to receive your morning nourishment."
These announcements were always public so that everyone knew what everyone else was doing at every precise moment. This was one of the promises the new Government had made all those years ago ‘Everyone will know what everyone else is doing, which will bring unity and efficiency to the nation.'
Miller furrowed his brow and checked his watch. The announcement was too early. Unbothered, he carried on walking, his curiosity piqued. It must have been some sort of accident. But, the Government were never wrong. Well, not in this society.
Unwilling to let this curiosity go unanswered, he continued on his path. He felt a sense of longing ignite in his heart, and it grew with every step he took. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. As he walked on, his steps quickened, and his heart pounded with anticipation. It was as if he was finally waking up from a long, monotonous dream.
Yet still, as he carried on through the desolate street, he saw no one. No Patrol Guard on duty, no protestor hiding in the alleyways, no pedestrian walking back to their Sanctuary, No one. The silence was deafening, except for the cold whistle of the wind in the distance. The emptiness of the streets only fueled his growing sense of unease, and he knew that something was not quite right.
All of a sudden, he heard a slow Woosh and saw a sleek black car gliding past him. Miller sighed; the peace was enjoyable while it lasted. He knew he’d better get back to the Sanctuary, or else who knows what was going to happen? He turned round to head back. Suddenly, a cold, sharp voice called from behind “Stay still sir, you have the right to remain silent.”
Derek halted.
“Put your hands up," the voice continued, and Derek slowly did as he was told, feeling a surge of fear and helplessness. The police had a lot of authority in this society, and Derek knew that he had no choice but to comply.
"Show me your tag," the voice demanded, and Derek hesitated, feeling a sense of dread creeping over him.
The officer sighed, "Yes, you can turn around. Ah, number 3,803." Derek nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he had been identified.
"Right," the officer said abruptly, "get in the car."
Derek hesitated, wondering where he was being taken, but the officer didn't reply and motioned for Derek to follow. As he entered the car, he saw the guard from earlier sitting inside, looking equally apprehensive.
The car started moving, and Derek's heart raced as he wondered what fate awaited him. The government was always unpredictable, and Derek knew that his life was in their hands.
Writer's Note:
Might add a prologue to describe a bit more about this dystopian society and the Government Sanctuaries.
hello eveyone, i hope you are all doing well! i will leave a quick review on this short story. i have read multiple stories over the years of a controlling government, and this is definitely one of the best ones I have discovered. the way everything makes perfect sense and is in perfect harmony is astounding. i love the tiny details we get and the detail within the writing. its exciting and overall just a great work. phenomenal job! 
Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),
Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!
First Impression: Well this was quite the little start here. Loving the world that you've managed to build u here. We've got ourselves quite a lot of work from the looks of things going in to building up this world and I honestly get drawn in from just that alone but the actual bit of tension we've got going is also making for quite a powerful moment on its own.
Anyway let's get right to it,
Emerging from the imposing steel doors of the government sanctuary into the misty September morning, Mr. Derek Miller relished the sensation of his feet hitting the cold metal grates feeling a sense of freedom and independence that was becoming rarer with each passing day. Nodding to the guard with hands in pockets, he acknowledged the few moments outdoors he had. As he walked through the silence, his identity tag flapping in the wind, he watched as the dark grey sky looming overhead.
The year was 2082. It was five years after the end of World War 3 and the United States was a shadow of its former self. Devastated after the war, the government had made sweeping changes to the country, and life had become bleak and monotonous. They had ensured that everyone follows the exact same routine every day, making it easier for them to keep track of everyone.
Miller's routine was predictable: Crossing the bridge, he would stride off past the factories belching out thick clouds of smog. And, like clockwork, he would strap his gas mask on with practiced efficiency, exactly two seconds after passing. He didn’t have any intentions whilst on these walks. Ever since the War, he had given up on hope and dreams. And that was just fine for him.
Checking his watch, he turned at the intersection. The time read 9:30. Derek smiled, he had 5 minutes left. Walking past the tomb-like building, ignoring the Propaganda posters plastered on the wall showing the only sign of color in this dreary city, turning at an intersection, he followed his usual path.
Suddenly, an announcement cackled overhead, interrupting his thoughts. "Numbers 3,750 to 4,500, make your way back to your Sanctuaries, Numbers 4,501 to 4, 750 come to the cafeteria to receive your morning nourishment."
These announcements were always public so that everyone knew what everyone else was doing at every precise moment. This was one of the promises the new Government had made all those years ago ‘Everyone will know what everyone else is doing, which will bring unity and efficiency to the nation.'
Miller furrowed his brow and checked his watch. The announcement was too early. Unbothered, he carried on walking, his curiosity piqued. It must have been some sort of accident. But, the Government were never wrong. Well, not in this society.
Unwilling to let this curiosity go unanswered, he continued on his path. He felt a sense of longing ignite in his heart, and it grew with every step he took. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. As he walked on, his steps quickened, and his heart pounded with anticipation. It was as if he was finally waking up from a long, monotonous dream.
Yet still, as he carried on through the desolate street, he saw no one. No Patrol Guard on duty, no protestor hiding in the alleyways, no pedestrian walking back to their Sanctuary, No one. The silence was deafening, except for the cold whistle of the wind in the distance. The emptiness of the streets only fueled his growing sense of unease, and he knew that something was not quite right.
All of a sudden, he heard a slow Woosh and saw a sleek black car gliding past him. Miller sighed; the peace was enjoyable while it lasted. He knew he’d better get back to the Sanctuary, or else who knows what was going to happen? He turned round to head back. Suddenly, a cold, sharp voice called from behind “Stay still sir, you have the right to remain silent.”
Derek halted.
“Put your hands up," the voice continued, and Derek slowly did as he was told, feeling a surge of fear and helplessness. The police had a lot of authority in this society, and Derek knew that he had no choice but to comply.
"Show me your tag," the voice demanded, and Derek hesitated, feeling a sense of dread creeping over him.
The officer sighed, "Yes, you can turn around. Ah, number 3,803." Derek nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he had been identified.
"Right," the officer said abruptly, "get in the car."
Derek hesitated, wondering where he was being taken, but the officer didn't reply and motioned for Derek to follow. As he entered the car, he saw the guard from earlier sitting inside, looking equally apprehensive.
The car started moving, and Derek's heart raced as he wondered what fate awaited him. The government was always unpredictable, and Derek knew that his life was in their hands.
Some works of dystopia give me chills, and this is definitely one of them. The idea of people being reduced to numbers is just so cold to me, and I feel like you did a fantastic job of portraying that here. Also, the cold setting and the way you describe it is so detailed, it's really easy to picture it, but at the same time hard to imagine such a soulless place. Of course, a little more background would really tie the story together, but I'm sure you're working on that for future parts of the series. I can't wait to see what happens after this!
This is a great story. I love the dystopian genre, and this story screams dystopian.
First, I would like to say that your descriptions are on point and really detailed, especially in the first paragraph.
Second, I would love to learn what exactly caused WW3 and what happened during it. Maybe you could write something to explain this?
Third, I am pretty excited for the next part, and I have a few questions about what will happen next. Why did the call sound earlier, why are Derek and the guard being arrested, and what is going to happen next? You are leaving your reader in suspense, which is an awesome and essential writing tactic.
Overall, your story was great and it left me in suspense, and I CAN NOT WAIT for the next part. Keep Writing!
- RazorSharpPencil
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