Pure black, that was the color of his gas suit, it was originally yellow but was permanently dyed by the smoke from the outside. He opened the sealed door, sealed doors were developed as a way to keep the toxic air out of workplaces, living spaces, and many more things. He entered the entrance and resealed the door. After sighing, the man tore off his gas suit, it was stuffy and uncomfortable, but it was needed if he wanted to keep living. Crimson hair and dead blue eyes were his face’s defining features, he wore a tank top and shorts. His synthetic right arm and the machines letting him breathe could be seen at this point, metal fit parts of his chest and right elbow. Hard cold stone floor was under his feet. He stood in his one room home, it had a bed, a fridge, a oven, a toilet, a shower, and a cheap computer. Nothing else was there, and what was there was rarely used. A thick layer of dust grew on the broken-down computer, the small cheap oven, and the broken empty fridge. He used to cook his own food and play video games, but since the surgeries and the changing office hours, he didn’t have either the money or time. Cooking was a passion of his since he enjoyed it and it reminded him of his mother, video games were another passion of his, it let him escape and to sometimes express his anger. There was a small area where the toilet and shower was, if he were to do his business, you could see him do it from the rest of the room. But, even with all of that, he was still a part of the upper middle class. The poor would have nothing, while the rich had everything, that was the world he lived in. He knew what it felt like to be poor, after his mother died, he had to learn to grow up early or die. The middle class were lucky enough to get the scraps from the richer class.
After such a long day, he needed to rest, his boss and coworkers had pissed him off again. Unfortunately he couldn’t show it out there. Emotion had to be hidden, bottled up until the right moment, without an outlet he would surely crumble. He was tired but wide awake, rage swelled up inside his mind. He needed to let it out, or face the consequences. Anger, sadness, agony, despair, desperation, and finally… Wrath. All of those emotions kept building higher and higher, and would soon boil over if he doesn’t let it out. Screaming into, punching, throwing, kicking, and many more things happened to his pillow within those twenty minutes. He calmed a bit, but for how much longer could he beat a pillow to relieve himself, each time he did this the calming feeling became less and less. Something had to change, or he would have to find another outlet. He kept getting closer and closer to boiling over, no matter what he did, and if he broke down at work, that would be the end of him. He would be fired and thrown out, he would live on the streets again. A pressure started to build up, something was moving towards his throat. He swiftly moved towards his toilet, knees on the floor, his eyes staring down the bowl. He knew what was going to happen next, after all this was normal to him. Crimson and black, those colors were the only two colors to come out of his mouth, the pressure of the muck climbing up his esophagus would be the worst torture to those that never experienced choking. This hurt the first few dozen times, but he was now numb to it. Almost every single day since the accident that tore up his lungs, he experienced this. Has it already been an hour? The clock had shown that it was already midnight, and he had to get up at two in the morning. He grabbed his beaten pillow and placed it on his bed. After laying down, the dark calmness of sleep overtook his mind. This was the beginning of the last day, for that world at least.
The sleeping young man heard an alarm, he so wanted to sleep forever, to finally rest. But he couldn’t die, he wanted to live, he wanted to find a way to control his own life. Sometimes he wanted to end it all but never went through with it. The mentally or physically troubled were abandoned most of the time, unless they had money or were willing to go into debt. To the higher ups a person was just another worker, property. Even if a worker killed themselves, they could just get another one, like nothing happened. Unfortunately, the only ones that could control their own lives were the rich, the ones that own everything. His tired eyes opened sluggishly, his synthetic hand reaching to stop the noise. He had woken up to another day of being a slave, forced down by a monopoly, by debt, by the establishment. His life as well as the other non-rich people in this world’s lives look like the perfect example of wage slavery. He had finally got ready, he had started breathing exercises in order to make sure his own thoughts, his own emotions don’t overtake him. He was angry, no anger was a severe understatement. Rage and hatred for this world and the way things are would need to be calmed. The young man needed this job, it was this or die on the streets. The old black gas suit was glared at for a second, before he had pulled it on. The sealed door opened and closed, and the young man left for work. He didn’t know that in about ten hours, the world he hated would destroy itself.
The young man walked to the bus stop slowly, wanting to draw this out as long as he could. Dark layers of toxic smoke clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun, stars, and moon. The streets of the city were dreary and uncared for, no civil services, no clean up crews, no help with cleaning the streets. Trash littered the concrete everywhere, garbage bins were completely overtaken and covered by the garbage they were supposed to contain. Many of the street lights were broken and old, but nobody would fix or replace them. This was just one example of an area that the middle and lower classes were allowed to live. Unfortunately there were no police or medical workers, that is because there was no community government. There were attempts in the past, but the higher ups threatened them with loss of jobs or military action, so the poorer areas were bound to get worse and worse. Criminals had ran rampant, muggings, thievery, murder, assault, rape, and many more terrible crimes went mostly unpunished. As long as these things weren’t happening to the rich, in their gated communities, the higher ups didn’t care. He passed a dark alley, sobbing could be heard. He turned to look, a body that was covered by a sickly colored gas suit, laid flat on the ground and a smaller individual who wore a brighter gas suit, crouched over the body. Child-like cries came from the individual, as the body was shaken by little terrified hands. “Mommy… Mommy… Please wake up!” Someone dying from exhaustion was not a rare occurrence, it was actually the number one cause of death. In that world dropping dead wasn’t abnormal, they could be walking one minute then dead on the ground, the next. The young man had quite a few friends and coworkers that went out just like that. The young man looked at the scene occurring before him, but he couldn’t do anything. A scene like this one happened after his own mother died. He knew what it was like to experience this, he wanted to help. But, he had no idea how or rather he couldn’t.
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On February 1, 1865 of the Post-Nuclear Era. A red haired, blue eyed child was born and was given the name Jack Carlton. He was born to a twenty five year old mother, and a father that died in an accident three weeks before his birth. That is to say he never knew his father and was raised by his mother. His mother was poor, there was only enough money to break even, even if she spent entire months at work. They lived in a tenement house with several other families. He was an only child, as his mother never really got over his father’s death and the fact that she wouldn’t have enough funds to care for another child. As Jack Carlton’s body grew, so did his mind. Although schooling was bought for lots of money, money that his mother didn’t have, he didn’t have an education. This was one of the results of not having any government mandated schools. He still learned how to read and write through his own efforts, through labels and the way words are used, he managed to learn by himself. And what he couldn’t learn himself he asked some of the others for what it means. It even got to the point he started teaching other children in the tenement how to read for some money. He also learned how to cook by experimentation and emulating how others prepared food, although it wasn’t much. Whenever his mother was away at work, which was almost all the time, he would do errands, clean the tenement, cook, and help out around the tenement. In the tenement, the families inside shared most of anything, they had to use the same bathroom, same kitchen, same utilities. But each family had to pay their own bill in order to live there, it was normal for four families to sleep in the same room at the same time.
On February 1, 1875 of the Post-Nuclear Era. Jack had awoken with sparkles in his eyes, today was his birthday. And his mother promised she would be here today. He leaped out of his bed, the old creaky floor screeching under his feet. Although three other people were sleeping in the small shabby room he didn’t care. He wanted to see his mom. She wasn’t in the room he was sleeping in, even though they had to share the room with two other families, she slept in the room with him when she could. A cheerful visage replaced his drowsy face. Jack sprung out of the room and ran down the hall, stopping only to see if his mother was in a room. He held his arms out, trying to imitate a plane. “Zoom, zoom.” He chanted as he traveled jovially. The room he and his mother had slept in was closer to the stairs going up, than the stairs going down. He checked each of the rooms. Nothing, nothing, nothing. As he ran he spotted a crowd near the stairs going down, the crowd were made up of people he knew, neighbors, adults. The crowd spoke to each other. “What happened?” “Is she dead?” “She isn't breathing.” “Is she still alive?” “She has no pulse.” “Did she die of exhaustion?”Jack walked up to the crowd. “What’s going on?” A few members of the crowd turned their heads toward the child’s voice. Some of them wanted to speak but didn’t know how to speak of this, what to say. The crowd noticed the quieting, and slowly shut themselves up. They knew who the woman was, they knew who the child was. Yet, they couldn’t bring themselves to say anything. The child pushed through the crowd of adults, but they didn’t do anything to protect him. After all, people dying like this was normal in this world. If an individual couldn’t get used to it or didn’t learn early, they would surely drown in a mental sink. The boy, the child, saw his mother still on the ground. Unmoving, unbreathing, not alive, dead. That was the day the child, who became a young man, lost his innocence as his eyes were forcibly opened.
From that point, he slowly grew into a jaded adult, thanks to the world he was born into. The world that swallows people up and spits them out like they were nothing. Many parents, mothers and fathers would want their children to be protected from such a harsh world. But, the children couldn’t be protected forever, the death of a parent became like a precondition for a child to become an adult. For the child could no longer be protected from the reality, placed before them. The young man remembered that day that changed his life forever, briefly, before returning to what was before him. What am I supposed to do? What can I do to help? He thought to himself. He couldn’t give the child money because he was broke, he couldn’t take the child anywhere because that would take too much time, and he couldn’t get help because those that were trustworthy were extremely rare. He could only help the child if he gives up what lets him live. Sorry, Kid. Sorry for being a worthless adult, for being a piece of shit. I’m sorry. He thought before heading towards the bus station.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
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He arrived, but he was almost late. The bus was already there and he had to yell at it, so the doors would stay open. “Hey, I’m getting on. Wait for me.” The young man just about jumped on the bus's stairs like an athlete in a jumping competition. He walked in front of the driver, took off the headpiece of the gas suit, and showed the bus driver the back of his head. The driver held out a scanner-like object to the back of the young man’s head, then a green light on top of the scanner turned on. “Alright, you have two cents left. Enjoy the ride.” “Okay, thanks.” Two cents! I don’t have enough for the bus home. He sighed briefly. It’s fine, I could ask someone for spare cash. Although that was the hopeful outcome, it wouldn’t happen. The young man had sat down in the third row of seats, the first two rows were used by the rich. The poor and the people in the middle class could use them, but when a higher up and their posse gets on, the lower classes have to move to the back of the bus. Although that was rarely an issue since the rich had their own vehicles most of the time, even with that some of them would still wander in from time to time. In most busses it was okay to take off parts of a gas suit, and breathe the air. Most busses had a pretty powerful purification system, but in no way did it filter all of the toxins. It was safer to leave the gas suit on in the bus, but if you wanted comfort you could take parts of it off and not die almost instantly.
The young man stepped off the bus and left the stop. He had the head of his gas suit off, but it was alright in this area. He was inside the Northern Dome, one of four domes in the world, it was an area with clean filtered air and it was entirely encased in metal. Large beckons of light shone from the dome’s ceiling, trying to emulate sunlight. Each of the domes were like this, the four domes were, the Northern Dome, Southern Dome, Eastern Dome, and Western Dome. Inside the domes were gated communities created and used by only the rich and their house servants, capitals of the domes, greenhouses for the nearly extinct plant life, and many more things. The young man walked to the locker area, and glanced at the robot at the counter. The robot had a screen for a face, a thin and chrome body, with no wires showing on the outside. Here too? Of course. “Greetings, Sir. How can I help you today?” That was said by a robotic voice, and it got no reply. On the black lockers were numbers and a scanner. “How can I help you today?” The robot moved from the counter and began to follow him. The young man moved towards the locker he normally used. He then picked up the scanner attached to locker number “777”. “How can I help you today?” He placed the scanner to the back of his head, and pushed the trigger. A hard beep sounded, the light turned red. “How can I help you today?” What? I paid for six months! What the hell! Then he tried again, it still wouldn’t work. “How can I help you today?” The young man responded to the unnatural voice. “I bought the half a year package two months ago and I can no longer open my locker.” Then the robotic voice started responding without even a hint of emotion. “All packages have been discontinued.” “What? Why?” “We are under new management.” He sighed to himself. So, you’re telling me I wasted all that cash. If I knew that I would pay for just the two months. I wasn’t even told of this. “How can I help you today?” His visage was one of slight agitation. “Nothing. I’m leaving.” “How can I help you today?” “Shut up!” “How can I help you today?” The second the man passed the counter the robot stopped following. “Come back soon.” He had walked to the workplace one last time, annoyed and frustrated by the inconvenience. He would normally store his gas suit in the locker, but now he had to find another place to put it safely. Nine hours left, just nine hours till complete and total destruction of the laws of that world.
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Jack ran after something in the streets of the mysterious city, the flames of rage filled his eyes. “Come back here, you magic bitch! Give me back my arm!” The right arm of his was where it shouldn’t have been, it was off of his body, but it wasn’t bleeding. In fact, it was in another’s arms. The woman he had been chasing, didn’t look anything like a normal woman. Her skin was pure white like porcelain, it glowed in the light like snow during a sunny day. Her hair looked as if it was taken off a white rabbit, it flowed down to her shoulders. Her eyes looked as if round rubies replaced her irises, it was the only part of her body that wasn’t white. But that wasn’t even the most abnormal thing, the area her ears should have been were earless. The thing on top of her snow white head was a black top hat that looks like it would be used by a magician. The top hat had a crimson band attached to it, like how a ring would fit somebody’s finger. A small pin with a white rabbit design was stuck to the band. A cape flowed down her body, two of its ends were connected by a red bow tie around her neck, on the outside the cape was black, the inside was red. Inside the cape she wore a white suit, with a red rose sprouting from the shirt pocket. “???” That was the name. The HP bar was unable to be seen, and the Lv. was replaced by another question mark. The strange woman had held Jack’s right arm tightly, not wanting to let it go yet. She knew what she had to do, this was just her way of doing it. A grin like that of a magician using a trick on people was very much like her face in that moment, light chuckles could be heard from her.
She turned around, but didn’t stop running. The strange woman was running backwards, in fact she started going faster than before. If her speed was that of a marathon runner when she was running normally, she was now going at break-neck speeds. “Hello Wrathy, catch me if you can.” “Wrathy?” “Would it be an issue? Now that I think of it, would Patience be better? Perhaps Envy? Humility? Pride? How about Diligence?” “The hell are you talking about?” The woman giggled mischievously to herself, then she held out one of her hands. She moved the fingers on her hand in a way that would be perceived as goading him on. “Come, come, catch me. You do want this back, don’t you?” She held his arm over her head, if the sun had shown, the arm’s shadow would have covered her face. In her eyes there was nothing to be concerned about, a potential representative of sin or virtue, took her bait. Jack ran and ran, he was relentless in his chase. But even then, fatigue started slowing him down. No matter how fast he ran, she got even faster. It eventually got to the point that whenever he turned a street corner, she turned the corner ahead. Come on! Come on! I will not lose my arm again! I have to go faster! Statements like these flooded his mind, forcing him to go on, despite his fatigue.
The woman stopped for a second. “Perfect,” she said with an excited gleam in her eyes. She set the arm next to her and stabbed the ground with her hands. Her hands acted like knives and dug into the concrete, then the hands went deeper and deeper. After a few seconds of sitting and digging into the ground, her hands reached the sweet spot. Jack ran to where the woman last changed her street and saw that the strange woman sat on the hard concrete with her legs crossed and arms elbow deep into a space that was once covered by concrete. Then, the woman tore the ground open, what was there wasn’t anything you would expect to be under the ground. The woman glanced at Jack, grabbed the arm swiftly, and smirked at the man running toward her. “If you wanna catch me, you gotta go down the rabbit hole.” She then jumped down, down, down and finally out the other side. Jack finally reached the hole and saw the sky, a sky under the ground, it wasn’t the big blue sky on his first day here, it wasn’t the starry sky of his first night. What it was, is a familiar image to him. It was a dark sky that covered the planet, toxic smoke clouds floated above everything, it was a sky that the sun couldn’t shine through. It looked like his own era, a very terrible time.
Jack stared at the hole in the ground. He was thinking. Do I have to go down there? Why is there sky? Uhh… Whatever! I have to get my arm back! He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and jumped. He went down, down, down. He didn’t want to think what would happen when he landed. He could already hear… Splat. Then, he stopped falling. There was no noise, his feet connected to the ground, he was standing. He slowly opened his eyes, and saw a world similar to his own, but it was different. Am I near another dome? Everything was still, he could breathe outside without feeling pain, the color of this area felt slightly drained. Clapping of hands sounded behind him. “Congrats, you bravely jumped. You’re my hero.” Sarcasm had spued from the woman’s mouth. Jack turned and saw the woman sitting on a stair with his arm in her lap. He clenched the fist that was still on his body, visage had shown anger and annoyance. “Give it back!” Jack growled. “Hmm…” The woman imitated the thinking man's pose. “I don’t know. I still have something to show you.” Jack breathed in and out, loosening up a bit. “Alright, you can take me to wherever you want, but you have to give me back my arm first.” “Hmm… Deal.” The strange woman bounced up from the stair to six feet in the air, did a flip, and before she landed, she grabbed onto Jack’s right shoulder. “What are you doing?” “Putting your arm back.” After sighing he said. “Okay, okay.” The woman attached Jack’s right arm to his body, on the wrong spot. “Hey, my arm isn’t supposed to be on my waist!” The woman chuckled like a clown laughing at her own joke. “Okay, okay I’ll do it again.” She put it on his spine. The process of connecting and disconnecting his right arm to his body continued until the woman finally stopped joking around.