The Trials of 2050 - DNF AND DREAM SMP STORY-

Chapter Two - Clay

Trigger warning: swearing, mentions of violence and abuse.

Clay stood backstage holding his guitar. He peeked through the curtains to see the crowd he was about to face. It was a lot of people but he did this all the time. The artistries held monthly music festivals and Clay had performed in them for as long as he could remember. He thought back to that first performance at just 6 years old playing twinkle twinkle little star on the ukulele. He has, since then, matured into a beautiful vocalist and guitar player. However that wasn't deemed that special in his faction. Everyone did something in the arts. That was their job, performing and indulging in artistic activities and musical performances. For many it would seem an easy and fun job but it wasn't as easy as it seemed. Still, It wasn't the performing that bothered Clay. Sure he still got butterflies as he stepped onto the stage and adjusted the microphone to reach his height. He nervously brushed his long rainbow streaked hair off his face and positioned his guitar. His hands shook as he strummed the first chord but after that, it was just him and the music. He began singing and heard the crowd cheer as always. He saw his friend Nick in the crowd with a sign that said 'Go Clay!'. Clay shook is head at the ridiculousness of the obnoxious sign and laughed as he entered the chorus.

"You won't find him down on sunset
Or at a party in the hills
At the bottom of the bottle
Or when you're tripping on some pills
When they sold you the dream you were just 16
Packed a bag and ran away
And it's a crying shame you came all this way
'Cause you won't find Jesus in LA"

He strummed the last chord as the crowd continued to cheer. He smiled and did a small bow before getting up to exit the stage. He looked out to the right seeing the large division fence that held the Techmavens on the other side. He could see small black dots moving around and wondered who they were, what they were doing. Was it a better life over there. Was it a better life anywhere? Out of all the four divisions was anyone really happy or just doing what their told. imagine being Ikodomos he thought, wouldn't it get boring building all day? He had always especially admired Techmaven, he secretly loved to code and game and it would be amazing to have the ability to do it every day. However the rules were strict, you make the music, the entertainment and that's it. His father was very strict on those rules. He remembered sneaking onto his fathers computer when he was a child and attempting to turn it on followed by a round of punishments from a wooden spoon, a belt or even just a fist right to the face. Even worse if he asked why he wasn't allowed or why he was restricted to his division and nothing else. He never did get an answer. Clay snapped out of his thoughts when he realised Nick was calling his name.

"Clay? Clay what are you doing?" Clay walked off the stage and greeted his friend who had a concerned look on his face. "You were fully zoned out Clay are you alright."

"Yeah yeah I'm fine... just started thinking about dad that's all."

"Oh right yeah... Well you did great out there." Nick said pulling him in for a hug.

"Thanks man. Hey I think I'm gonna head home I don't feel great." Dream replied. He wasn't sure what triggered it but anything could give him anxiety these days.

"All good see ya later Clay." Nick said before walking back into the sea of people. Clay turned around and went off to find his faded green truck that was parked some distance away from the festival grounds. When he finally arrived home he noticed a letter at the door. From the ministry.

Hello Clay,

We request that you come in for your immunity testing.

Please remember to remain calm about this process it is simply to help find a cure for this nation.

It is for the best.

Arrive at the Artistry Ministry Centre at 3pm tomorrow for your testing.

Kind Regards

Kelly Holland

Head of Artistry immunity faculty

Immunity testing.

"Fuck-" Clay muttered before pushing the door open and throwing the letter on the counter. He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Immunity testing. He closed his eyes and when he opened them he saw a father and son. The boy was on the floor hysterically crying taking hit after hit from the man standing above him.

"Don't ever. Mention. Being. Immune. They are immortal, selfish creatures that don't fit in this world. You hear me." The man sputtered sending a shower of spit onto the small boys face. The boy nodded wiping his face. The man started walking away and turned around causing the boy to flinch.

"Clay,"

"Yes dad."

"Do the dishes will you."

Clay opened his eyes. His knuckles were white from gripping the couch and his face was wet with sweat. He pulled up his shirt to reveal a dark slash mark down his side. Like his trauma was engraved into skin. He was forever branded with this memory. He took a deep breath and reminded himself it was ok. His father was far away doing ministry business and hasn't bothered with him in years. Why would he come back. Clay Grabbed his black runners and slipped them on. He grabbed a water bottle then went out his front door running beside his house and out into the fields behind. The grass got progressively longer brushing his hips as he ran through the green abis. Letting nothing pass through his mind. Just the cool air and the blue sky. He must've been running for at least 45 minutes before finally stopping to take a break. He turned his head and realised how close to the division fence he was. They weren't supposed to go near it but Clay couldn't help himself. He cautiously walked close to the fence. It became bigger with each step. There was something else there too. A black dot. as he got closer he realised it wasn't a black dot and actually a person. He kept walking. He could no longer stop himself. If the ministry caught him he would be dead, but he kept walking. once he was about ten metres away he stopped. He stared at the figure. It looked to be a boy around his age. He had fluffy brown hair and was staring at the ground picking at some grass. He wore a dark blue hoodie and black jeans that seemed to be a little to long for his short legs. The boy looked up and stared at Clay with big chocolate brown eyes. They were stuck like that for a second. Just staring. Clay lifted his hand and waved smiling slightly. George smiled and waved. Clay started walking again closer and closer to the fence until he was about a metre away.

"Hi" He whispered.