You must never question. To question is to betray.
"Those, ladies and gentleman, are two sentences you won't go through in a day without hearing, if you were to live in the place where I formally resided. What's that? You wish to know who I am? Nah, I'd rather not divulge in my identity. Should I do so, you'll consider me a threat, menace to society, worthy of the dea...well it's the same old song if you ask me. I tell you and you tell another, who tells another, and another, and another. Then by nightfall I'll be faced with collaborated mob justice. Heh, not that I don't hear of it everyday. The select few who sympathize with the persecuted are just as shunned as those who never harmed the ones they claim to "protect" or anyone for that matter. After all, we should cancel out all of our reasoning within the mind and instead let our hearts go out of control with emotion, thus leading to arbitrary judgment of everything else in general! (and in case you can't tell, I was being sarcastic on that last sentence)
"Funny how they assume the worst about things they know nothing about. Things seem a little different here. The higher-ups didn't induce mass brainwashing and controlled panic to the masses into becoming celibate. There doesn't seem to be a police vehicle between 2-3 blocks. The President seems to be more then just a figurehead ruler...I think. And don't get me started on the full-swing "pedhunts" and emotion-driven sermons every which way. All of this is just the tip of the iceberg. An iceberg my father attempted to melt, but failed.
"But that's a story for another time. Or at least, a portion of this story for another time. As I said earlier, this story is not for those who wish to retain delusions. It shall explain most of what we've become, or may become in due time, should things such as conformism and intolerance come into play even more. It went long past its limit where I came from. The people at the time had their heads up their asses so much even a child was able to see it! But not just any child. This child suffered a little more then the others. Cindy. She saw her gift as a curse. Not just to herself, but to everyone around her.
"Nevertheless, I'm getting far ahead of myself. Certain things must be taken one step at a time. Or in this case, one chapter at a time. Best if I don't ramble on any further. Now please...read. Read...and think. Think about the certain things that are being told to you on a regular basis while you read this dystopian tale. Think of the newspaper articles and news segments you view as you read this. While I can't insult it in its entirety, one can never see any errors in logic unless they ask questions. Anyone, let they be man, woman, even child. They all have a right to the truth of things. I wish it was the case for the children of that prison of a homeland I used to live in.
"Now, no more talk. No more introductions. Now is the time to read. Read...and rethink how you view certain people. The following isn't forcing you to be like those you hate. Simply accept. Accept them like my dad accepted my mom.
*the very first scene opens up with a birds-eye view of a suburban neighborhood. Dozens upon dozens of blocks are covered with pale white houses evenly spaced by a foot or so with the usual slanted shingled roofs. They have four square windows, one at the left and right side of the beige door, and the last two right above said door. A pole with large speakers at the very top are firmly drilled at the very corner of each block. From above and afar, each block is as nearly identical as the last. However, should one take a closer inspection of sorts, not all is alike*
*some of the beige doors have rather odd markings on them. Others have various scratches on them that have yet to be painted over. More often then not, they have what appears to be video surveillance cameras attached on the roof. Most may not see it. But it always sees them. The different markings on the door represent the certain people who live within the house. They must be identified. All must be identified. Anyone suspected of being IT must bear the mark on the door. Also, no one seems to be on the streets. A few bikes are overturned on the ground, the wheels still spinning, suggesting that the citizens made a hasty retreat back in their abodes. But for what reason?*
*the scene now zooms in at a particular house. This house has no markings on the door. To the residents within, it's a good thing. They wish to keep it that way. Zoom even further and the interior of the home can be seen as well. Right now, all that can be seen is the living room. There's a short table, a couch, and a television set right at the opposite end of the furniture. Two of the residents watch the news broadcast on the TV*
*one is an adult, possibly in her mid 30s. She has long jet black hair tied into a ponytail. Her eyes are brown and her skin is as white as the exterior of the house. Her attire consists of a cerise long-sleeved shirt and a denim skirt. Her facial expression is rather dull, and the nails on her hands are a little thin and rough, which are possible signs of the occasional nail biter. The second person, a male child of 12, has short hair and eyes. Both are the same colors as the woman's. He dons a light-blue t-shirt and khaki shorts. His feet and ankles are covered with gray socks. The t-shirt has what appears to be a laminated identification card. All that's on it is a barcode with the numbers 19-8-1-4. He, too, watches the news report. However, his face seems to have a look of slight confusion on his face. It's as if he has no idea what he's watching*
*the TV shows a brunette woman holding a microphone with what appears to be the news logo on it and the number five. She's wearing a cobalt suit of sorts. It's clear that she's the reporter of the news bulletin. There's also a look of urgency on her face, as if what she's about to report is something of great importance*
Newswoman: Greetings, fellow viewers. This a special news bulletin from Channel 5 news. I'm Tyler Kipper here with an emergency broadcast. Just ten minutes ago, the local authorities received a call from an anonymous tipster who claims that he witnessed a child abduction in progress at a nearby grocery store. The local citizen followed the abductor and victim, only for the trail to end at a nearby police station. Although the abductor, who was soon identified as being a marked one, was hastily apprehended, the exact reasons as to why he snatched age 8 Child Unit 3-9-14-4-25 was unknown according to interrogators. The aforementioned child has been reunited with her family as...
*Tyler stops as her eyes rapidly shift left to right, her mind paying attention to something else besides the task at hand. Half a minute later, the eyes stop moving about as the reporter continues to speak*
Tyler: This just in. The details of the abduction and the abductor shall be explained via the public speakers in full. Everyone, please cease your current activities until the public announcement is finished.
*outside the house, the speakers at each corner of the block start their blaring voices being transmitted from a nearby police station The volume of the speakers are so loud, even those away from the block can hear it quite clearly*
Public Speaker: ATTENTION!! ATTENTION!! THIS IS A REMINDER TO THE FAMILY UNIT OF CHILD 3-9-14-4-25!! PLEASE KEEP YOUR CHILD IN YOUR SIGHT AND BESIDE YOU AT ALL TIMES!! MAKE SURE THAT ALL THE CHILDREN IN THE SUBURBAN DISTRICT TO KEEP CLEAR OF ALL THOSE WHO ARE MARKED!! THOSE WHO HAVE NOT YET BEEN MARKED, YET EXIBIT ABNORMAL BEHAVIOURAL PATTERNS MUST BE REPORTED POST-HASTE!! THE AUTHORITIES HAVE JUST DECLARED THE FATE OF THE LATEST APPREHENDED MARKED ONE!!! HE IS GUILTY!! I REPEAT: THE MARKED ONE IS GUILTY!! HE SHALL BE KEPT WITHIN ISOLATED CONFINMENT UNTIL HIS FULL SENTENCE CAN BE DECIDED!! ANNOUNCEMENT OVER!!! YOU MAY NOW RETURN TO YOUR CURRENT DUTIES!!
*and with that, the speakers stop speaking and the adults who rushed back inside exited the house and continued their daily outdoor rituals. Of course, a few people remained inside. The woman and child being one of them. And those who resided in the houses with the marked doors dared not leave their sanctuary*
*inside the home where the woman and child resided, the boy pressed hard on his ears with his hands, still thinking that the loud, blaring voice of the public speakers is still announcing something. But the woman, who we shall call Claire, puts her hands on the boy's hands and gently pulls them away from his ears*
Claire: It's okay Shad. The announcement is over.
Shad: Why did they switch to that loud speaker mommy? Couldn't the news just say it themselves?
Claire: *sighs* It's...well, it's a little complicated I suppose. Everything has their own way of things. Regardless of what others think of it.
Shad: Well I think it's loud. Loud and annoying. I tried telling the adults if they can put the volume down.
Claire: When was that?!
Shad: When we went out shopping today.
*Shad stands up and walks to the nearby window. He looks outside and sees adults walking about. Not too many of them, for most of them are at work elseware in the community. The boy's eyes are fixated on a bag dropped on the front lawn some time earlier. A small area around the bag is damp, the green blades of grass stained by what appears to be a brown liquid. A few onions also rolled out upon its fall, along with parsley and a pair of cornish hens wrapped in plastic*
Claire: Shad, don't worry about that. It's not your fault.
Shad: I know. It's just that last time it happened, adults were around and they got really mad at me. It was just an accident! Besides, those cheap bags are really weak. I should ask the people at the grocery store...
Claire: Which reminds me, you said you asked someone about the public speakers?
*Claire makes a light gasp as she covers her mouth in shock, as if she made a rude remark on impulse*
Claire: Oh Shad, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have interuppted you.
Shad: It was a small mistake. I just wanted to ask questions.
Claire: You mustn't. You know what happened the last time?
Shad: They didn't answer. That was really rude.
Claire: Not just that. They just stared at you, coldly.
Shad: What's wrong with that? You said that daddy told you that it's okay for us to ask questions. Just as much as it's okay for us to be here!
Claire: *sigh* Fine, you're right. That's exactly what Dimitri said before...*Claire stops as her eyes start to flood up, as if hesitating to finish the sentence*
Shad: You know that news report about that girl who got abducted?
Claire: What about her?
Shad: Well...hehe. I think she's cute.
Claire: *raises her eyebrows a little* Come again?
Shad: I saw her outside the store when we were leaving. She looked kinda...
Claire: You saw her?!
Shad: Yeah, but I thought she was waiting for her parents. The ID card on her is the same number as the one the news mentioned.
Claire: *stutters* O-o-o-okay Shad. *bites her nails a little* Let's get the groceries inside.
*the mother and son step outside as they pick up what they can from their fallen bag of goods while avoiding the glass shards of what used to be a container of apple juice. Claire was silent the whole time. Picking up the batch of parsley with one hand while biting her nails with the other. Her nail biting is something that occurs only when a type of stressor is triggered. During times when she felt all too nervous about something, she took it out on her nails. Thankfully, she doesn't bite all the way through, but it worries Shad nonetheless*
*once the groceries are gathered in their arms, Claire and Shad make their way back inside. But although Claire gets inside, Shad is halted by a vaguely familiar sight. Right on the sidewalk, a girl of eight years old walks home with a woman beside her, possibly her mother. Her brown hair is long, flowing, goes straight down as it ends at the back of her hip. Her eyes are of a shining violet, yet her cheeks are wet with tears for reasons yet unknown. Her attire consists of a red shirt with a smiling bunny's head on it and a blue skirt. Finally, her sneakers are white stripped with hot pink complete with ankle-length white socks. Shad gazed upon the visage of the girl. Her ID card is exactly how he remembers it. Yet why is she sad? Tears still roll down her cheeks as they fall to the ground. Could it be the abduction? If so, then why is the woman next to her have a rather contemptuous look on her face, probably directed at the girl. Wanting to cheer her up somehow, Shad yells out a greeting and waves at the girl*
*unfortunately, before Shad can ponder things further, he's suddenly jerked backwards by his shirt collar. His mother has just pulled him back into the house before he can get a response. He ran out to the window, but nothing changed. The woman and the girl still make their way across the street and to the next block as they reach their house. The girl is the last to enter, her head down in sadness, as the woman locks the door*
End of Chapter 1.
_________________The Life and Times of Shad Staydamind
PPG fic; finished. part 1/3
Dual Minds Think Alike
PPGD fic, part 2/3; finished (trilogy is on an indefinite hiatus)
Original, ongoing fiction. (also hiated. Stupid college!)
Last edited by Shadowed State of Mind on Mon Sep 25, 2006 6:35 am, edited 1 time in total.