So this one was written by my sister whose profile is @vintisha777, she's got a couple stories published that I strongly recommend. The picture is not mine but from Google images.
---------------------------------------------------
It was the year 2080, where speaking out loud was rare, and communication was confined to cuff-phones. We didn't have friends, and we didn't fall in love. Work was the love of our lives, and money was our best friend. Relationships were a thing of the past, and would destroy our planet. That's what the government told us. They said that order could only be achieved if we remained diligent in our isolation of human interaction. Our fellow humans didn't matter, they would only distract us from what was important in life, the earning of money. Because of this, children were only fed and clothed by their creators,(once called parents), who taught them from a young age to use the cuff-phone, a device cuffed to the wrist, used only for necessary interaction. After a child could use the cuff-phone, usually at the age of three, communication between the creator and created were confined to the cuff-phone. The price of living in the same house as our creators was that we had to clean their home and cook their meals.
When we were 18, we were assigned a job, a new house, and a partner to create the next generation of human beings. Once we hit that age, our days were spent at our jobs, and our nights spent laying down, recharging for the next day. As for books, movies, and music, these were all banned. Laughter, crying, and any form of intense emotion were looked down upon, even feared. This was the kind of life I lived. I lived in a small, brick house, just like every other house in the world. My name was Micro, before I changed it to Carter, a name used in the early 2000s. I was male, tall, and classified as a white citizen. This meant that I would be partnered with another white person. This was the law. Blacks partnered with blacks, and whites with whites. This evaded confusion. I was never entirely content to live like this, it never really seemed to be living. But I didn't have the chance to listen to my doubts until July 1st, 2080.
On that day, I had to pick up some cleaning supplies from the local store, since I was nearly out.
I walked stiffly, like everyone else. Like I was a machine. I trudged through the aisles, never giving another citizen a second glance. When I reached the cleaning section in the store I was confronted by an elderly male. I was baffled. He looked at me, his eyes were sparkling, and his mouth turned up like a banana. It was a strange and alien expression. At the time, I had only been exposed to blank, stoic faces and dull, stern eyes. I stared at the man, confused, and then, to my utter horror, the man spoke.His gruff voice sounded like music because his voice was the first voice I'd ever heard.
"Boy, my name is Bob Matthews. My name may sound strange to you, but in my day, it was common. I've been looking for kids like you, ones that aren't as far gone as the rest of 'em. You still have a bit of life left in you, I can see it in your eyes. Now follow me, before it's too late. I have something to show you." The man stalked down the rows of shelves, leaving me in amazement. What did he mean, he could see life in my eyes? Was I different? Was there something else to life other than work? I was confused, and curious. I never felt curious before, but I liked the feeling. It felt like a fire, starting with a spark, but growing. Finally, the fire inside me became too insistent, and I ran after the man, seeing him waiting for me at a broom closet. I walked over and looked around. I always knew I was a little different. I used to hide in my room and practice forming the words I read on my cuff-phone into sounds. I spoke for hours, enjoying the stretch of my vocal cords and the wonderful break of the quiet that hung on our planet for years. I looked up into the old man's big, brown eyes and whispered,
"Sir, why are we going into a broom closet?" The man smiled, seeming a little over-pleased to have evidence of my rebellious nature. I guess Bob mustn't have been entirely convinced I was different. The man was still smirking as he lifted a tile, revealing a trap door. I gaped at the ladder that led into a deep abyss. I admit, I was a little scared to find out what the man was going to show me. It was a bit hard to believe that there were more people like me. I followed the man down the ladder, the rust of it cutting my palms. When we reached the bottom, he led me down a number of halls. It looked like we were inside some underground building. The walls were stone, and there were torches lighting our way. Wooden doors lined the halls, and voices, male and female, floated out. They were loud, soft, deep, high pitched, I loved it. Finally, we came to a large door on the right, which read, 'REC ROOM'. I opened the door and walked into the room, excited to find out what was on the inside. There was a line of bookshelves, a couple T.V.s, and a bunch of computers. It was amazing. I had only seen these things inside one of the textbooks at our school, (it was a book about the so-called Dark Days). Although we only communicated by cuff-phones, we still went to school, but the sole purpose was so that we wouldn't grow up unable to work. Anyway, the man told me that he was going to teach me the beauty of relationships and love. He said that after I got a little used to the place, maybe even made some friends, we would chat. I spent all day watching shows and reading books, all of them beautiful and terrifying in their own way. They gave me insight into the lives that other people lived, and I really began to understand what love was. The books and movies taught me what I had been missing out on. I wandered the halls in a daze, too drunk in the turning of events and didn't even notice when I bumped into a boy. He was about my age, and was laughing. And before I knew it, I began to laugh too. In a moment, I began to feel a wonderful feeling, a connection to the boy, and I knew the feeling was called a friendship. After living a month in this underground paradise, I had made two friends. The boy I had hit, named Lee, and another boy with brown skin named Nate. I never had friends before, and I felt bad for the many children who didn't know the joy I was experiencing. When Bob called me to his room and asked me to join him and the rest of the people living here in a rebellion against the government, I instantly agreed. I wanted to make a difference; I wanted to take down the government and restore the world to what it was before. My own parents, (creators as I used to call them), never even noticed I was missing. I was angry, just like everybody else here, and when I heard that there were places like this all over the world, I knew that we stood a chance. A year after I came to the place, we took down the government, the people were so concerned with work, they never saw us coming. The fight was won on July 1st, which is called Victory Day, and celebrated with fireworks.
My name is Carter, I am male, and I am watching the fireworks with my friends. I hate to think what would have happened to me if I never ran out of cleaning supplies on July 1st.
----------------------------------
So there you go. I know that my sister would love comments and feedback on this story so please comment.😊
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories of the Golden Six
Historia CortaA series of short stories written by my group of friends, edited by me.
