• It…it happened so fast. There was nothing I could do. It was as if I was choking on my tongue. Before I realized what was happening it was over. All I remember was silence, the loud screech of the wheels from the hum-v, and then…blood. Even after I still couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I’m sure there were people there but if they were I don’t remember. My heart was pounding so hard. I couldn’t move my eyes. The smoke started to clear…I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to look. And then I saw her…the woman who was standing next to me…the same woman…and yet…

    ****
    Thinking back on it I never expected I’d ever witness a death right in front of my eyes. Though I doubt anybody would ever expect something like that to happen. It’s just...nothing exciting - for lack of a better word- ever happens. And not just that, things just don’t surprise you anymore. Not after seeing what we have seen. What we have experienced.
    Our homeland wasn’t always like this, barren and dry, or so I’ve been taught. It was said that during the Primitive age, some odd years ago starting at year 2000, our world flourished with life. Though, it’s still hard for me to know what they mean by life. Our history classes don’t go into much detail about our past. The only important things, they say, are our history of our leaders and the wars our people have faced to get us to such a prosperous place as we are today. The rest of the stuff is as they say…history. Our current leader, Hubert Neval, is responsible for bringing us to our affluent state. He was the one that initiated The Era of Change. During this time our people were beginning to die off by the hundreds. A plague had fallen over us and there was no telling where it came from or how to stop it. Medications and vaccinations became useless. There was nothing to be done once you were infected. The only thing people could do was send those who were branded for death to a place called Sanctuary. There they would live out the rest of their days in comfort and away from those more fortunate.

    After years of death and disease, president Neval announced an invention that would stave off the disease. It was called The Shield. It was a scientifically modified chemical suits and gas mask that was distributed to every household. It became a common and required clothing if people wanted to survive. The suit allowed for free movement; the bulkiness was reduced to a modified jumpsuit worn over the clothes. The gas mask allowed for a maximum of a week’s breathing before a cartridge change. The new innovation reduced the mortality drastically and people began to have faith that things would prosper.
    In the following year this faith was broken with a savage attack to a family of four. The attack was by their family dog. The plague had manifested itself inside animals and made them deranged as it ravaged their brain. President Neval then implemented The Fortification Project. All animals- domesticated and wild- were captured and taken to the outskirts of town where the military had immediately begun work on The Divider - a great wall that acted as a barrier around the entire city. It kept the animals out and our people safe.

    As they say, peace fell upon our society. President Neval named our new nation Revival. Plans were produced to find a vaccine for the plague but people grew restless as our standard of living grew worse. Water supply began to deplete and fresh food sources became scarce. The only way president Neval could, in my opinion, appease the masses was by giving them what they wanted. Security. Magically it seemed the food shortage never existed as the government introduced instant meals. People stopped complaining and soon turned to pleasantries to distract themselves from the truth of their existence. This is my existence. A life surrounded by people who exist in fantasies and hide within falsities.

    ****
    1
    Have you ever had a dream that seemed so real that you find yourself believing that it’s true? The sensation and the colors are so vivid it almost makes you feel as if you’d been there before. I speak of this only because very recently I have been dwelling on these recurring dreams that wrench my heart. It always begins the same. I can see myself, so clearly, as if I were having an out of body experience. I’m dressed in a white sundress that fits me quite loosely and I’m alone. Very much alone. Everything around me is shrouded in black and all I can do is grope around in front of me and keep moving.
    My heart pounds so hard that my ears become clogged and all I can hear is ringing. My body moves on its own, as if leading me, me who am not fully ready for whatever it is I am searching for. Then suddenly a blinding tunneled light appears before me. Automatically my feet move faster and faster. My body no longer gropes and the me that wasn’t ready at first is now as impatient as my body.
    As I step into the light a breeze greets me, startling me at first. The foreign feeling almost sends me stepping back into the darkness, but as my eyes adjust so do my, now childish, fears. Adorned in front of me is the most indescribable landscape known to man. Trees, the color of the deepest green, dance against the sky, leaving peaceful notes of music behind and the sky, naked of clouds, is a perfect shade of blue. Slowly I step further into the scene, letting the wild, knee high grass brush against my skin. The most gratifying feeling takes hold of me and a smile stretches across my face. I close my eyes and inhale the biggest draft of air my body will allow, stopping when my chest begins to ache. Slowly and carefully I exhale and open my eyes. Warm tears cascade down my cheeks and startle me, for I know not why I cry. And then always, always before I can fully take in the splendors of my surroundings I awaken.

    ****
    Slowly I opened my eyes, hoping the sleep would remain. I wasn’t ready to face reality, to face routine. I heard the knocking downstairs on the front door but I chose to ignore it. I closed my eyes and tried to return to my fantasy. My eyes fluttered as I fought against my wakefulness. I lost. Silence was broken as I heard the flighty steps of my sister rush down the stairs to the door. The creak of the door was immediately met with the squeal of a shrill voice. My mother. That’s just what I needed, for her to return.
    Their muffled conversation oozed through my door. The only thing I could do was sigh in defeat. I still didn’t feel like relinquishing myself from the warmth of my sheets so I decided to roll over onto my back and explore the contours of my room. It was an activity that I enjoyed doing after returning from the realm of my dream. I remember the first time I experienced the dream. When I awoke my heart was racing and I could feel myself trembling. I had broken out in a sweat and my eyes were wide with terror. It was as if I had experienced a nightmare. But what I remember most was when my eyes searched the room. It felt as though it wasn’t my room. Like I was some stranger. I felt alone, and not only that but the worst feeling of all, empty.
    As I searched my room I made sure to pay close attention to the meticulous details - the scrapes against the walls from where I rearranged my room so many times, the carving my father and I made on my desk after we put it together (Well, he put together. I just handed him tools and read the direction), and the worn out carpet near the window from years of gazing out and staring for hours. These were the things I looked for and cherished. They were me…my markings, my existence.

    My alarm clock wrenched me from my trance. I ended up laughing at myself as I almost jumped out of my skin from the sound. I turned it off and looked at the gigantic numbers staring back at me. Seven o’clock. Maybe I’d wait until 7:05, just to mix it up a little. I decided it was a good decision and stared up at my ceiling fan. The sun was pushing its way through the blinds, casting a deep orange across my room. The white blades of the fan looked amazing against the loud color. Maybe I’d paint my room orange. Most likely it would stay white. I glanced back over to my clock, 7:02. I was restless. It seemed that I would lose this too.
    I fought my way out of the sheets. Apparently in the middle of the night I like to contort myself within the sheets as if I were performing in the circus. I ended up falling out. My sheet twisted itself around my ankle in a tricky way. The sad thing was, the shrill voice of my mother didn’t break once. No yell up the stairs to see if I was okay or anything. It’s to be expected from somebody as selfish as her. Once I won the battle against my sheets I stumbled into the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind me.
    I cut on the water. Usually the sound of it brings my mind into focus. I waited for the awesome power to bring me back. As I waited I stared into the mirror at my reflection. Sometimes I find that when I do this I don’t really know who’s staring back at me. It’s a complete stranger in the mirror. Those weird, soft, brown eyes. The odd, rose colored lips accompanied by that strange pointy nose. The cheeks creep me out the most. They lack life entirely. There’s no laugh lines, no sign of emotion whatsoever. Such a cold face is deserving of that pale skin. The only thing I recognize is the wavy, dark brown hair. Only because I can see it all the time (it annoyingly hangs in my face and no matter how many times I pull it back a few strands always seem to defiantly hang in the way.) Everything is unfamiliar.

    Suddenly, something caught my eye. How I missed it, I have no idea. It was a sticky note posted on the mirror to the side. It read, ‘Water restrictions are in affect again. Five minute water limit.’Dang. I already wasted two. Quickly I brushed my teeth.
    After I was dressed and ready I began to head downstairs, a dreaded task. As I stepped down each step the voice of my mother grew louder and louder. My skin crawled as the bouncy voice pierced my ears. It’s about as annoying as when somebody takes a piece of chalk and boars it against a chalkboard.
    "Isn’t she just the cutest little thing you’ve seen?! Oh! She’s going to grow up to be just perfect!" I could hear her say. Coming down the narrow staircase it was as if someone handed her a microphone and plugged it into five amps.
    I know I may seem harsh but there’s something you have to know about my mother. Picture talking with a Hollywood blonde, you know the ones that you see on T.V. that act like their heads are filled with hot air. That’s her. At times I feel like I’m talking to a five year old. I can’t really say she’s a bad mother or a good one. She takes care of both my sister and I. She makes sure we have food in our stomachs and clothes on our backs. Sometimes she’ll exhibit an emotion remotely close to concern for us. But lately her blonde-complex (as I like to call it) has increased. She no longer cares about morals and values but material. And she wasn’t always like that. Before, when my dad was still around, she actually had a soul. She worried about the news, she cared for our existence, she loved. I can’t really say what made her change. It could have been the day her good friend caught the plague or the day my father started to gradually lose his mind. Whatever it was it made her weak and I hate her for it.
    "She’s kind of quiet for a child her age. She’s pretty old too. When you said you were expecting a child shouldn’t she have been a new born?" I heard my sister question in a small voice, usually meaning she’s hiding her true feelings to avoid confrontation.
    "No! Why would I want that? I specifically told the company that I wanted my child to be an infant so I didn’t have to deal with all the crying and getting up in the middle of the night. I handpicked the options for her to be mild in manners, to be a fast learner, and when she grows up a little more she’ll have a natural skill at music. She’ll also be attractive as you see that I picked her to have those beautiful blue eyes and flawless wavy black hair to bring them out. She’s the child I always imagined. Just perfect!" my mother explained with a ring of excitement at the end of every sentence. She must have got a rush from her own outrageous accomplishment because he suddenly let out a loud squeal.
    My mother’s latest feat was some sort of baby. It was something scientists had been bragging about for a while now. They called it Replication. Women could take their impregnated egg and pick features they wanted to give their children, ranging from physical appearance to strength of knowledge. People flocked to the Incubation Banks and infused their children with all sorts of things. They call it advancement but I call it disturbing. I remember a mother on the news suing the Incubation Banks because her child had brown eyes with sandy brown hair instead of her ordered blonde hair with blue eyes. When I watched her on the screen I could see the disgust twisting through her body. She held the baby away from her as if it were a bag of leaking garbage. I felt sick.

    "Tessa! Good morning!" my sister immediately said as my foot came off the last stair. I could tell I was her scapegoat. I smiled to myself. I knew if I went into the kitchen she would follow to escape from my mother. I didn’t mind. If I were in her situation I would want her to do the same for me.
    "Did you…did you see the baby mom brought home? She’s our new sister. Seems like you have a lot of family to look out for now, with you being the older sister and all." She said with a weak smile.
    "No I don’t." I corrected as I searched in the cabinets for pop tarts. "I’m not going anywhere near that thing and it’s not my sister either."
    "Tessa." She said almost mechanically. It was more of an agreement than a reprimand.
    Suddenly I could feel a cold prickling on the back of my neck. My mother was glaring at me. I could imagine her lips disappearing into a hard line as she pursed them and her narrow eyes that made her look more comical than menacing. I ignored her, my search for pop tarts was more important.
    "Is that jealousy I hear?" she questioned with a serpent’s tongue, "Just because you’re not getting any attention with that dreary attitude of yours, doesn’t mean that you have the right to call your sister a thing. She’s a human being-"
    "Correction." I deliberately interrupted, "A manufactured human being. A robot if you will."
    "Not funny." She barked.
    "I know. I wasn’t making a joke." I said as I finally found the pop tarts. It was my lucky day. It was the last one.
    "Where did I go wrong when raising you?" she spat. This was becoming her favorite rhetorical question whenever I spoke my mind, "I bet it was that father of yours."
    I got anxious. It came out of nowhere. I had to clutch my fists and bite my tongue to keep from saying anything. Never in my life had I been so incline to strike my mother than when she brought up my father. I stormed to the Clean Room in silence. There was no telling what would happen if I gave into my urge.

    "Oh well, this time he won’t be around to corrupt this child." She said dismissively. From the corner of my eye I could see her return to a small figure. I made sure to not identify it fully. I knew it would creep me out, "She’ll be perfect."
    I couldn’t take it. She didn’t deserve to be happy. She should be hurting. Besides, I had to get back her some way for saying that about my father.
    "Exactly," I said in as nonchalant a tone I could muster, "She’ll jump when you want her to. Smile when you want her to. Bend over backwards for you…"
    "That’s enough Tessa." She said with a hard voice. I wasn’t going to stop. I was on a roll. I could feel the excitement boil in my stomach as my words gave me my revenge. I made sure to dress myself in my Shield as if it were a complicated dress that needed the utmost attention to add to the air my sense of ignorance to her words.
    "Scratch your back when you want her to…"
    "Tessa!" This time it wasn’t just my mother’s voice I heard but my sister’s as well. She had moved from the kitchen to the dining room table.
    "She’ll be your perfect like conformist."
    "That’s it!" my mother went up an octave, "I want you out of this house now! I will not have you speaking to me like this!"
    I slid my overcoat on with a victorious grin. I grabbed my gas mask and walked to my sister as if my mother wasn’t even there.
    "I said get out!" she shrieked.
    "Have a nice day Lilith." I said gently. I knew this argument had unsettled her. She never could handle the pressure of raised voices.

    I softly kissed her cheek and made my way to the front door. I couldn’t help but glance at my mother. Her face was a deep red in an unhealthy way, as if she were constipated. I was so satisfied that I let a couple notes of laughter slip out. This really sent her over the edge.
    "Out! And you should pray that I’ll let you back in here! I’ll have you sleeping in the streets!"
    I shut the door in her face. I felt good. Today was going to be a good I thought as I put in my headphones and turned on my favorite song - Where is my Mind by the Pixies. I secured my gas mask and slipped on my gloves. Each move gave me satisfaction. I pushed the button to let up the garage. As the door rattled and cranked the heat from outside immediately rushed in to greet me. Usually it’s something that I loathed but today it felt as if it matched the flame in my heart. I looked to the sky, pushed the garage button, and let it rattle and crank behind me as I stepped out into the blinding light.