Century of Retrogression

Prologue

The night was cold and unforgiving when it started, the wind whipped causing Edwin's disheveled damp hair to plaster against his forehead. His walk home typically only took half an hour, but due to the severe weather, it was taking twice as long. The street lights were barely lighting the darkness that was beginning to envelop him. He took refuge in an alley between two tall apartment buildings, providing some semblance of shelter. A breath of relief barely leaves his lips when he hears the sounds of a struggle. Slowly he furthers into the alley and sees a man laying on the cold wet ground.

The man appeared to be taking his final breaths, visible in the crisp November night. Blood oozing from his abdomen and pooling nearby, mixing with a puddle of rainwater, swirling. The sight sent Edwin spiraling, a sight he never expected to see on a Thursday evening, even less so on his way home for his Daughter's birthday. While gang activity had been up in recent years, he had never encountered it first hand, and that was all that was crossing his mind as he made his way away from the alley and closer to home.

Money had been tight, as it had been for everyone since the crash. He had saved enough to buy his daughter a used doll. Something nice in these uncertain and tumultuous times in the world, let alone Chicago. Just a few years earlier the news broke of the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre, leading to more unrest amongst the city's population.

Edwin knew he was lucky to be employed at all, with the city's unemployment nearly at fifty percent these days. But with the World's Fair moving in, he hoped that meant an even better opportunity to move his family from the west side and even better, would be to move from the city entirely. He hoped that they would make just enough money to move east to New York or Boston, one of the cities that he had heard was in better shape than Chicago had been in a long time.

As he approached his street the rain seemed to intensify. He quickened his pace as his apartment building came into view. It was a smaller building compared to the newer ones built in other parts of the city, an older house renovated into several units. He shared his unit with his wife and three children as well as his mother and brother. The subsequent months after the crash, his mother lost the home he and his brother grew up in outside the city. His brother, barely eighteen, was still living at home with their mother, just about to make his way out into the world. Now four years later, John, his brother, has been moving between jobs, hoping to find one that can afford to keep him longer than a few months.

Just before he turns to walk up the steps to his building an odd noise stops him in his tracks, he turns back and sees nothing. He shrugs it off and walks a few steps closer to his building. He hears the noise once again and whips around to see a man around six feet tall, lanky, and holding a large knife, perhaps that of a butcher. This is the last thing he sees as the knife is brought down upon his head. He doesn't have enough time to react, his body falls to the ground, the doll for his daughter landing in the puddle of oozing blood next to his head.