The date is September 26th, 2168. Today is the ceremony where the new Leader is sworn in, a man by the name of Daric Turner. Standing without the slightest slouch in his spine, and his dark brown hair combed neatly to the left, he looks regal. The room is full of people dressed lavishly. They are laughing, dancing, and talking. Daric stands with his advisors, who congratulate him and offer their condolences on the death of his father. He shrugs at each mention of his father. One by one they slowly leave, mingling into the crowd. One advisor lags behind slightly, an older looking women with gray hair, and Daric grabs her wrist. "Who is that?" This is the longest sentence he has said all day. The advisor follows his gaze and spots who he is referring to, a girl in a pale pink gown with blonde hair pulled back into a bun.
"That's Advisor Lemaire's daughter. Her name is Amanda... or something-" she pauses, "Sir, can you let go of my wrist."
"Sorry," he releases his grip slightly, "So you were saying."
"Go ask her her name, I don't know it." She pauses, thinking. "Oh it's Avery, that's it. Avery."
"Thank you," Daric states, letting go of her wrist. The advisor quickly walks away, frightened. "Avery," Daric whispers under his breath. "What a lovely name."
Several hours later, it is close to midnight. Avery enters her room and sighs. The walls are painted a light blue and a bed, with sheets of the same color in silk, sits in the middle of the room. There is a mirror, a dresser, a desk, a music stand, a violin, an upright piano, a bookshelf, and a window over-looking the garden with a cushioned window seat. She draws the window shades closed. She moves and sits on the edge of her bed, staring at herself in the mirror briefly. Wearily, she takes off her high-heeled shoes and puts them back in the closet. She then sits back on the bed and unpins her hair, letting it fall past her shoulders in blonde waves. Avery yawns then enters the adjacent bathroom where she takes off the gown and showers. She dries her hair, brushes her teeth, and puts on a nightgown not focusing on any of the tasks. Absentmindedly, Avery plucks a string on the violin before she collapses into bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
A few rays of sun break through the window shades, landing on Avery's face. She covers her eyes with her palms, letting out a quiet moan. She sits up and stretches out her arms, yawning. She sits on the edge of the bed staring, almost hypnotized by the ray of sunlight. Avery shakes her head slightly to clear it and changes into light blue long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants. She takes a brush and smooths out her unruly curls and braids her hair flawlessly, having years of practice. She exits her room and climbs down two flights of stairs, past a library, a study, a parlor, the kitchen, and her mother's office to make it to the dining room. Her mother, a woman with brown hair with streaks of grey pulled back neatly and brown eyes similar to her daughter's, sits at the head of the table. "Hello Avery," greets her mother.
"Hello Mom," she acknowledges and sits next to her. She takes a piece of toast off her plate and nibbles at it thoughtfully.
"How are you," her mother asks distractedly, reading the newspaper.
"I'm okay," Avery replies, "I'm going to go on a walk after breakfast."
"Okay, but be careful."
"Why?"
"It's dangerous in the city."
Avery rolls her eyes. She puts down her toast and gets up. "I'll be fine Mom," she says, leaving the room.
Avery walks down the long path to the gate. Along the path rose bushes grow, but none are in bloom. Hedges behind them grow high over Avery's head. She arrives at the tall wrought iron gate attached to two brick posts. On one there is a small grey box, this she opens the cover of and types in 21807 on the keyboard, unlocking the gate. Avery exits to the busy city street and pulls up the hood of her jacket. She takes the street that takes her to the center of the town. People line the streets, selling fruits and vegetables among other things. Avery, who doesn't have anything to give them puts her hand in her pockets and looks down at the grey bricks making up the road. People whisper to each other as she walks past. Avery pulls at her hood, trying to cover her face. They all know the girl who has everything, while they have nothing. She feels guilty even though she has nothing to do with their suffering. Avery clings on to nothing but hope that things will change. What else is there for her? By the time she turns 20 she will probably already have been married off to some high-ranking official her mother selected. Then she will be in the public eye for a few years attending exorbitant parties thrown by the Leader, having a child who would be condemned to the same fate, and smiling for the public and telling people that it will all be better eventually. These thoughts occur to her in mere seconds, because they have built up over the years out of sheer anxiety. A small boy runs up in front of her. "Do you have any change," he asks.
"I'm sorry, I don't," apologizes Avery, feeling shameful for wallowing in her own despair.
"Liar," yells a woman to the side.
"I'm sorry I honestly don't have anything," she repeats. A group of people encompass her.
"You're that spoiled brat of Lemaire's," accuses one.
"If you don't give us anything, we'll make you," shouts another. Avery is unable to move, frozen with terror.
YOU ARE READING
Outcasts
Fiksi Ilmiah"In the twenty second century civilization has crumbled from war. From the ashes rose a new society of the survivors, but it is worse than ever before." Idris Summers, a truculent nineteen year-old, is part of the lowest class of society, which is g...
