The Imperfect's Journal: 1

May 21st, 2066

Tomorrow night, the bus will be here to collect everyone heading for the airport. There are numerous imperfects here, now, but I've been told that a seat was reserved for me as soon as I provided my destination.

According to the bus schedule, I'll be arriving at the airport on the 30th of this month. It's going to be a long, cramped bus ride, but I'll have Jess to keep me company. We reserved seats at the same time and those seats are right next to each other, so we won't be splitting up for over a week, now. I'm grateful for that. It's nice to have a friend.

Three more Renewers were dropped, today. There was one in South America. I'm not sure where the other two went. No country has launched a bomb at America. That's the problem with being against the United States in this war: you can't just bomb your enemy. The whole point of the war is to protect and rescue imperfects like me, and you can't do that if all of us have been wiped out in bombings.

So while the U.S.A. and its allies are wiping cities out with Renewers, the nations trying to save me are just working out ways to get troops on American soil. And once they're there... well, I really don't doubt that the U.S. government will hesitate to drop bombs on itself just to make sure that it can keep enslaving the people it believes are lesser.

I'm on the losing side of this war. It's the morally correct side, but it's still the losing one. When the U.S.A. wins, they'll get to write history. They'll be the good guys, just like they were the good guys when they murdered the people who originally occupied North America.

Why couldn't we stop this? Why did we let this happen? It started off small, long before I was born. Piece by piece, things got worse. We let this happen. Oh, god, we let this happen.