Salvation 2035

Chapter 1- I'm Not a Criminal

   『Abel』

     I guess this is what you get for trying to learn a bit about the past. Who would think studying a language would get you in so much trouble? Oh well, I suppose I had it coming.

     My name is Abel Palomo. I'm a medical student─ or I suppose I was a medical student, now I'm a criminal. I knew it was deadly to try and learn Spanish, the language of my forebears, in this day and age but I went forward with it anyway. 

     Everyone is so obsessed with being the same and equal that we forget how important our differences were. Apparently criminalizing learning languages and the practice of distinct cultural traditions is what we've come to in order to promote unity. Now we're spoon-fed information about how to be the ideal citizen by their federal propaganda machine. As far as the general public is concerned, America is the only country. We'll just go ahead and blame all the war on 'them' and forget that it was our own bad decision-making that led us to this dreadful reality in the first place.

     It's funny. I thought I fit in perfectly into this world until this moment. I always got straight-A's, was the quarterback of my high school football team and was considered fairly popular. And I was on the track to becoming a doctor too. But all of that doesn't matter at all anymore I guess. Never did I ever think that I'd end up under the same roof as thieves, murderers, assailants, and sex offenders. Now that I'm here, I suppose surviving and behaving well are my main priorities now.

     I don't know. Going on rants like this is pretty out of character for me, but I can't just keep it all bottled up. I've had it under lock and key since I could comprehend the New Constitution. I mean, having an emotional release from time to time doesn't hurt, even if it is just inside my own head.

     As I walk through the hallways of the prison, metal doors of other inmates' cells line the walls, reflecting the dim lights that showcase the way. It's funny, I always thought prisons would have those no-privacy-classic-bar-doors, but thankfully I'm wrong. There's only a small window in the front for the guards to look in.

     Speaking of which, two guards are at either side of me here to make sure I don't get aggressive. Yeah, me. The guy who decided to study a language is a threat. I've never fought in my life, and yet here we are. In other news, the one guard is your classic, dead-inside man of the law, while the other appears to be in her early to mid-thirties with long wavy blonde hair tied back. She's actually decently attractive too, standing up tall and regal rather than rough and imposing. I'm sure she gets all sorts of unsolicited comments from the inmates.

     "Abel we're moving you in your cell, I'm sure your roommate will be very inviting," the male guard tells me.

     It's early morning and apparently, I'm being escorted to my cell. Supposedly I have a roommate as well. I am genuinely curious as to what kind of person I'm paired up with. Will it be someone like me, a person of education who was enamoured by what else is and was in this world, or a more traditional criminal. The male guard unlocks the door and I'm greeted by my roommate. Well, his back at least. If I'm not mistaken, I think he tried to hide something as we came in. From what I saw, it appeared to be a bag of some sort.

     I guess this is someone who is very different from myself.

     In front of me is a head of bleach-blond hair loosely tied back into a messy stub of a ponytail. The orange jumpsuit looks much too large for his small frame, hanging liken to a garment strewn upon a clothes hanger. My guess is that he is actually around my age or a little younger, so he'd be in his early twenties or late teens. He's sitting down on a mangled lump of blankets and pillows that is most likely a bed.